Maybe you’re wondering what I’ve been up to since I last wrote, nearly a year ago. Maybe I flatter myself.
A few weeks ago I passed the one year anniversary of my orthopedic surgery. My thoughts immediately went to the expectations and goals I set for myself at the time, and my reasons for getting the rod in the first place. In spite of the trepidation of going under the drill, a year ago I was filled with excitement and hope for my future. I envisioned races of all kinds: sprint triathlons, trail runs, 5ks… even half marathons. With my indestructible leg, all signs pointed to “yes.”
I have the nonrefundable race registration receipts to prove it.
Reality had something a little different in store for me. Post-op, I was less bionic woman than tin man, with a dash of cowardly lion thrown in for good measure.
The first setback I encountered was the limp. For weeks, months…. I limped and limped and limped. Limping was not on the Pre-Op Vision Board.
The second setback was the stiffness in my hips and lower body. My range of motion on the left side of my body was… Negligible? I had taken for granted the high degree of flexibility I previously enjoyed. Rods and bolts made of titanium tend to inhibit flexibility in the joints and limbs. One would think I might have prepared myself for this inevitability, but no; I was sublimely unaware of just how difficult it would be to manage the day-to-day stiffness and soreness I encountered, and still encounter (albeit less and less).
The third setback (and this was a real kicker, guys) was throwing out my back in February. I know there must be a better medical term for what happened to me, but I don’t know what it is. I just know that I had been doing a fair amount of working out when one day I woke up, bent over to pick something up off the floor, and felt a sharp pain in my lower back. The pain did not go away quickly. No, it took many days – several weeks, really – for the pain to fully subside.
Fourth setback: rapid and massive weight gain. I was easily twenty pounds overweight on the one year anniversary of my surgery. Boy, do I hate to admit this. The shame! It’s true, I am ashamed of myself for gaining so much weight in a year. And I am ashamed of myself for admitting I am ashamed! I know I am supposed to “love my body” and “be kind to myself” but to be completely frank with you, it was not so long ago that I enjoyed two consecutive years as a LEAN, MEAN, MUTHA-EFFING-RUNNING-MACHINE; with a body that, if I am being honest here (and I am), I felt ENTITLED TO. I WORKED FOR IT, GODDAMNIT.
And it went away. Poof. In an instant.
Netflix took it away as I sat on the couch. Sauvignon Blanc took it away. Rang Bistro Chicken Korma took it away, among other grievous wrong-doers. They are all jointly and severally liable to this bitch right here, and I am coming to collect! That’s right; I see you Oyster Bay Sauvignon, cowering on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator… You’ve written a check you can’t cash. The needle on the bathroom scale, hovering between 140 and 150… YOUR days are numbered too! Banished! You are all banished!
In addition to litigating my FAT ASS…. The nice weather is finally here, I’ve joined a gym called 0600 Conditioning, and I’m on a strict diet. This blog is going to help me stay accountable to myself again, as it’s done in the past. There are races in my future, to be sure, but right now I am focused on building strength and losing weight. I’d like to get some of that dynamic muscle movement back, as well.
See? New goals replace the old goals and the cycle continues. What is that famous quote? “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward… 8 minute splits.” Isn’t that how it goes?
What’s everyone been up to?
Still finding time to run as civilization crumbles, or burning calories building a bunker?
You tell me!