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Accomplishments
Sep. 1st, 2008 11:54 amThis has been a good weekend for me, and I needed it to be that. I've been up and down and up and down a lot lately, and it's important to remember the up-bits, so I can look back at them when I wind up down again.
There have been a lot of little good things - getting pulled out of a miserable slump Friday night by managing to salvage plans to dance. Taking advantage of opportunities to be social, instead of assuming that the invites were meant for folks other than me and sitting at home moping. Finding chances to get out and interact with people outside my normal social circle, which is exciting and fun and entertaining - while I love the people I spend the most time with, being with different people calls up different sorts of energy, and leads to different conversations, and the discovery of shared experiences in the oddest places.
There's one thing in particular, though, that I want to remember, because not too long ago I had just figured I never would have been able to do it.
Two and a half years ago, I was more or less incapacitated by a knee injury. I couldn't walk from one end of my block to the other, even with a cane. I had surgery to fix it, but my doctor warned me that surgery was only moderately successful. There was a decent chance that I would recover only partway, or that the problem would recur in short order. I went through the surgery, and the physical therapy after, but I had more or less resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to change my lifestyle and scale down my activity for the rest of the foreseeable future.
Now... I'm looking at climbing Mount Washington with a friend. And my husband, being the pragmatic member of the team, decided that before I take on that challenge, maybe I should actually see just what my joints are up to in terms of physical activity.
Saturday afternoon, he and I hiked ten miles. Up and down, back and forth across the city, one short break for lunch. Near the end, he asked me how I was doing, and I allowed that my muscles were getting a little tired, but overall I was just fine. Not once in the entire course of things did my knee even twinge. It's two days later now, and other than the gentle good-stiffness in my calves that lets me know I was up and moving, I really can't tell I did anything out of the ordinary.
I know this isn't the biggest accomplishment in the world - ten miles isn't that far, in the grand scheme of things. But.... I spent so much time when I was hurt whining about how my life was over, and I spend so much time criticizing my body for this or that or the other problem... it's good to have a reminder when things work incredibly, blessedly well.
There have been a lot of little good things - getting pulled out of a miserable slump Friday night by managing to salvage plans to dance. Taking advantage of opportunities to be social, instead of assuming that the invites were meant for folks other than me and sitting at home moping. Finding chances to get out and interact with people outside my normal social circle, which is exciting and fun and entertaining - while I love the people I spend the most time with, being with different people calls up different sorts of energy, and leads to different conversations, and the discovery of shared experiences in the oddest places.
There's one thing in particular, though, that I want to remember, because not too long ago I had just figured I never would have been able to do it.
Two and a half years ago, I was more or less incapacitated by a knee injury. I couldn't walk from one end of my block to the other, even with a cane. I had surgery to fix it, but my doctor warned me that surgery was only moderately successful. There was a decent chance that I would recover only partway, or that the problem would recur in short order. I went through the surgery, and the physical therapy after, but I had more or less resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to change my lifestyle and scale down my activity for the rest of the foreseeable future.
Now... I'm looking at climbing Mount Washington with a friend. And my husband, being the pragmatic member of the team, decided that before I take on that challenge, maybe I should actually see just what my joints are up to in terms of physical activity.
Saturday afternoon, he and I hiked ten miles. Up and down, back and forth across the city, one short break for lunch. Near the end, he asked me how I was doing, and I allowed that my muscles were getting a little tired, but overall I was just fine. Not once in the entire course of things did my knee even twinge. It's two days later now, and other than the gentle good-stiffness in my calves that lets me know I was up and moving, I really can't tell I did anything out of the ordinary.
I know this isn't the biggest accomplishment in the world - ten miles isn't that far, in the grand scheme of things. But.... I spent so much time when I was hurt whining about how my life was over, and I spend so much time criticizing my body for this or that or the other problem... it's good to have a reminder when things work incredibly, blessedly well.
