Whoever said pride come before a fall clearly hasn’t fallen enough. Or hard enough. Or in front of enough people. Pride doesn’t even factor into the fall although the shame and embarrasment of falling and injuring yourself in front of a bunch of strangers really comes into it’s own (for added effect add gas and air) and there you have it – complete humiliation. And the worst part? It isn’t the falling that’s that problem (although that is a big part of it) it’s the landing. The landing part is the bit that really hurts.
I’m currently “out of action” after my fall from grace on the netball court on Monday and I am officially fed up, grumpy, sore, lethargic and many other adjectives used to describe me at the moment. I had a whole schedule for the week planned out and it went something like this:
- Monday – Netball 6-7pm and then possibly 7-8pm if I had energy left over (I’ve not played in 10 years and was really looking forward to it
- Tuesday – being brave and joining the Hash House Harriers for a 5 mile hash (a “paper trail” of running and walking and a bit of drinking and some eating afterwards)
- Wednesday – my usual pub shift and work out at the end of the night with the clean up
- Thursday – my usual 2.19 mile run/walk/run
- Friday – pub shift again with added extra cleaning
And Sunday would be my run day for the weekend and for the first time in a long time I was looking forward to being busy and active and working my body hard. I realised I felt happier and more confident when I’d run. I bounced round the flat afterwards, basking in the afterglow of the running high. I loved logging my runs, seeing how much further I’d run since last time. But most of all I was really proud of myself for doing it, when not 3 months ago I was an avid couch sitter, face stuffer and non-runner and now I was actually a runner…and I loved it.
I know I’ll run again but my ever present question is when? I see runners out there and I’m consumed with jealousy. I want to be out there, not stuck inside not able to bend my knee and therefore not able to put on socks let alone walk normally. I’m seeing the fracture clinic tomorrow and hopefully they’ll shove me over to physio and I’ll be getting better and back into my running shoes soon.
I know that in the grand scheme of things this is a minor injury and I’m not an Olympic athlete with a career in tatters. I know that this will heal and I’ll be fine again – but until then I’m allowed just a little wallow…like a hippo. How apt.