I had a spill on my bike last Saturday. The seat post stem freakishly sheared off while I was riding, which in itself wasn’t so bad. It was the fact that I took my eyes off the road to figure out why I was suddenly standing on my pedals that caused me to miss the dip in the bridge toward the thick mud. The split second of relief when I stopped sliding along the road was unexpectedly interrupted by my husband crashing on top of me. Yup, smooshed me even more decidedly against the asphalt.
I have to pause to say that I am ashamed of myself, when in my pain I cried out to my never-would-hurt-me-on-purpose husband, “What are you doing ON me??” I only slightly redeemed myself as I rolled over, clutching my elbow as pain helped me come to my senses, groaning, “Oh, well, at least you didn’t hit your head.”
Short story: nothing broken, but deep, broad abrasions and bruising on whole left side creating intense pain when I move my limbs, especially my legs, and hands that ache when I use them too long. When I’m on my feet my leg swells up. It’s ugly.
Here’s the thing: all week I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. Depressed, even. And you probably know me well enough to guess that neither of those things sit well with the kind of person whom I aspire to be. Which makes me cranky and then the spiral continues. But then this morning I saw this:
Which made me think, okay, what IS still working? My right leg. My right arm, even if my hand can’t grip well. My trunk is fine. So, I kicked myself in the rear and picked up a kettlebell as a weight, since I wouldn’t have to grip it too hard, and got to work. Winded after 20 minutes but much, much happier.
Yes, I will have to sit for the next few hours with my leg up. But you can bet I will be doing another round with that kettlebell.
–> What has motivated you to find another way forward when you couldn’t move the way you wanted? How did you shake off the self-pity and get going?