Roaring Back

Lap swim begins at 6 a.m.

Re: My injured hip. I’ve gone from philosophical and accepting to (almost) screamingly impatient. Can’t say what brought on the attitude change—could have to do with how smug I’ve been about having already worked through my denial and anger. They are both back with a vengeance. I suspect it’s because now, four weeks and a day after my crash-and-burn that sent me to the ER, I am very close to fully ambulatory.

I’ve rejoined the gym and have been riding the stationary bike. My new hero, Jamie the physical therapist, has prescribed some exercises that make me feel studly. She is enthusiastic and kind and encourages me in my healing.

Flip-flops and a crumpled towel. Hmm. Someone's been swimming—and she left her cane behind!

This morning I’m pretty sure I overdid it. To start, I went swimming (left my cane hanging in the locker room). I managed to stay with it for a lucky 13 minutes. Could have gone longer but I wanted to maintain my self-image as a prudent person.

Soul of prudence that I am, my next act was to head off for work, walking from my house to the BART station, which is 0.8 mile. I used the cane, and felt the ramble went well. So well that when I got off the train in SF I decided that buses are for sissies—and I walked from the station to the ad agency, a doable distance of about 0.75 mile.

I did take my time in SF. I caught up with an elderly gentleman who was also walking with the a cane, and we got to chatting as we hobbled along. He sported a red-white-and-blue ribbon around his neck from which hung a huge gold medal. I admired the shiny disc, and he shared with me that he won it in competition. His rivals for the gold were a group of combat veterans who were either currently in the hospital or had been at some earlier time. Seems they meet once a year to compete in games, every year in a different city. These activities are many and various, from cards to checkers to horseshoes and beyond. “I won a lot of games last year,” he told me. “We all have a lot of fun—just trying to get young again.”

I voiced my hearty approval of the whole scenario. He went into the bank (where maybe he keeps his award money?) and I pressed on. To entertain myself I practiced walking 100 steps with the cane, then 100 without. I arrived at work early, tired but not suffering any dire pain. A little ice pack on the ache, a little food (homemade coffee cake—thanks, Katie!), and I was good to go.

I shouldn’t predict anything regarding this injury. I should “play it by ear.” I should “go with the flow.” I should “give myself time to heal.” Okay, okay. My non-prediction is that I’ll do my first run Monday, June 1, which happens to be Memorial Day—r.i.p. you blasted injury. From where I hobble now, a small holiday session of the old heel-and-toe seems like a realistic goal.