Pitiful thoughts of the day

What an odd time this has been. The excitement of starting over has been tempered by the reality of multiple injuries. Just as I was getting over falling down the stairs and burning my hand I managed to tear my calf muscle. I was doing a cardio workout, taking a day off of training for the marathon because my calf was a little sore, and on the first kick I heard a horrid pop, felt my muscle recoil into my leg and fell over. Poor Scott – nothing like your wife calling you at work to come take her to the ER. ER said rest, crutches, go see ortho. So here we are 5 days later. Ortho said the deep muscle of the calf (the soleus for those that care) is torn. Good news is it will heal without surgery. Not so good news – no marathon. In fact, it will take 6 months to be 100% again. Decent news is that I will hopefully be off of crutches in 6 weeks so I can at least go to the grocery store, carry my own cup of coffee… All the things we do daily without thinking about.

These frequent injuries keep reminding me of Texas, of times that I’d rather forget, but now I can’t help but remember. There was a 3 year period where I had 3 invasive bone and ligament surgeries and multiple ER trips with crazy injuries. Who else gets a corneal abrasion lying in the bathtub? Seriously, I was lying there soaking when the shampoo bottle just fell off the edge of the tub and the cap hit my eyeball. I actually thought it popped my eyeball, it hurt so much. Then who can forget the day before my major knee surgery I was playing fetch with Lucy, the world’s best dog, and her whole 120 pounds came barreling into me at full speed and dislocated my knee on my “good” side, the one that I had surgery on 6 months prior. The list goes on but I’ll spare you any more of that pitiful reminiscing.

After that last surgery – when was that? 2003? I have been relatively injury free. Sure I’m still extraordinarily clumsy but I’ve managed to avoid the ER and orthos. But now this rash of frequent pain and doctor visits is becoming unbearable. Zandra doesn’t understand why mommy can’t play anymore and why I’m always cranky (pain does that) and poor Scott – moving, starting a new job, and now the stress of this? I was supposed to be the one taking care of the little stuff to make this transition easier for him and all I’ve managed to do is add more stress to him.

I do remain optimistic that the summer isn’t ruined. We had planned on so many adventures. Camping, the redwoods, Yosemite, sleeping in the tress in Washington, just to name a few. One of the great things about moving to Northern California was that we were no longer surrounded by desert but by the majestic nature that we favor. As long as I can walk a few miles we can still do all of these. Zandra is at that great age now where she loves being outside more than anything and I want to keep encouraging that in her. I remember family camping when I was little and it was the best fun. I’m sure it wasn’t as great for my parents but I still remember running through the grassy hills, climbing rocks and trees, playing in the creek and cooking over the campfire. The fun of those things hasn’t dimmed for me yet and I fear if she isn’t taught the joy of them early she’ll never know how much fun it can be.

The marathon is the one thing that really saddens me about all of this. It was only a ½ marathon, but still the first one of my life. It was to be an adventure with my sister. Now instead of training and motivating each other I am forced to cheer for her from the sidelines. I doubt there will be others, it doesn’t seem that I should keep physically pushing myself, but to have a body that’s not even middle age constantly turn against me is becoming a frustration I am tired of dealing with.