Scenes from My Life: A Time to Heal

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK..

 

“Come on hit it harder, I want to see those bags move,” my coach yelled over the mind-numbing club music.

 

THWACK, THWACK … UGH!

 

OUCH!

 

THWACK!

 

OUCH!

 

Seriously??? What the hell? Why does that hurt?

 

THWACK!

 

Oh, shit…Yep that hurt.

 

Limping off the mat after class I knew something was wrong with my left ankle. For a moment I thought it was just a sprained muscle, or a stretched tendon, but as the day wore on the realization that it was something bigger hit me.

 

Quickly I called UI Sports Medicine and made an appointment. While a weird part of me was a tad excited {a sports injury for a non athlete is a BIG deal}, the other part of me was worried. What if this messes up my triathlon training? What if I can’t do kickboxing anymore? Damn I’m old.

 

I sounded like a lame joke, as I told the doctor “my ankle only hurts when I hit the bag”, but he was sympathetic and complimented my foot smell as he examined my ankle.  As he poked and prodded my ankle, he immediately found the sore spot and sent me squirming on the table. “Yep, that’s the spot,” I reassured him in hopes that he wouldn’t touch it again.

 

After X-rays, and some jumping up and down on one leg, he finally diagnosed the beginning of a stress fracture in the talus bone. My left leg was banned from kickboxing for three weeks.

 

I was relieved, but annoyed.

 

It’s amazing how when you are forbidden from an activity you just crave it more. This whole time I’d been taking my left leg for granted and now…now I can’t kick, the ONE thing that gets all the stress, depression and bitchiness out of my system.

 

For a moment, about the time it took me to drive to work, I wallowed in self pity. Then I pull on my big girl pants and looked at the bigger picture. I could still run, bike and swim. My triathlon training would go ahead as planned, and three weeks of no left leg bag impact won’t hurt me … what would is getting a major injury and being out for the summer. Now THAT would break my heart.

 

So I suck it up at class, modifying exercises, and kicking air. There are moments the urge to kick is overwhelming, especially when I’m going balls out in class, but I reign in my brain and my foot.

 

I’ve put my body through the wringer and this is THE FIRST time it’s EVER made me stop. Sure I’ve gotten colds or the flu, but this is different, three weeks is a long time. My injury is minor compared to others, but the negative thoughts it provokes creates worry in my heart.

 

“What if it doesn’t heal?”

 

“What if it gets worse and I need surgery?”

 

“What if…

 

“What if I can’t do triathlons anymore?”

 

That is the ultimate question.

 

I am realistic.

 

I know there will come a time when triathlons are no longer an option, but I also know that today is NOT the day. I will heal, and come back fighting, strong in heart and body, because HEALING is just as important as kicking ass.