I go to physical therapy so often, it feels like visiting a second home. I know all the familiar faces, have the routine down, and it just feels like an obligatory part of my week. I am happy to report this week proved to be another promising one. I jumped back into physical activity on my same, limited basis, but enjoyed being relatively pain free throughout the process. The novelty of appreciation for my body was back. This also meant I hit a new phase in PT.
By new phase, I mean my exercises elaborated and/or changed completely. That's a really dialed-down way of saying it got real in Physical Therapy this last week. My one legged squats on the machine were upped 10-fold. My quad was shaking trying to handle the weight. I broke a sweat with whatsherfacenewgirl, and I felt extremely fatigued and tired. But I didn't feel hurt. Every time the girl would ask me how each exercise felt I had conflicting feelings of wanting to be like "What do You think," and smiling and hugging her. It was hard. Really hard. But I did it. I finally feel like I'm moving forward and toward the end game.
Halfway through my therapeutic torture chamber, I was forced to balance on the "involved" leg and slowly lower myself down to chair level, all while not letting my knee slide inward or outward. I'm sure that's a simple process for all you healthy-kneed individuals, but this took a crazy amount of dedication and concentration for me. I chose to pick a spot to stare at as I silently counted down the repetitions while good ole' whatsherfacenewgirl stood and silently clapped me along. The spot I chose to stare at seemed to do the same thing back at me. It was the base of the cable machine and in big, bold letters, simply read "Patent Pending."
Hm. No really. Hmmmm. Like the patent of that cable machine? It's in the process of being designated as a non-replicate? Which part of it? I've seen tons of machines like this. Are they in the same, pending boat? I kept my eyes glued to the spot as I lowered, lifted, and kept balance. Patent Pending.
Kind of like me.
My healing process and full recovery is in process, but it hasn't been fully applied yet. The issue of acceptance is not quite there. But the general public is aware that the patent could be issued in the near future. I am a figurative version of this mind-numbing expression that is stamped on the bottom of a metal contraption that is luring me in and out of my own process. You with me here? Call it a stretch, but I am going to stay with this analogous measurement.
I have never invented anything, so I don't know all of the legal processes that go with obtaining a patent, but I have lived through many versions of the concept. Even relationships. All sorts - friendships, romantic relationships, or professional relationships. Isn't there always kind of a patent pending? A period of time before things are either real or rejected? When do you go from dating to a relationship? Or to nothing? When do you go from acquaintances to BFFs? I would argue that it takes time, trust, and experimenting of sorts. Despite the fairy tale concept of love at first sight, there's a lot that goes into things becoming established. Patent Pending.
By new phase, I mean my exercises elaborated and/or changed completely. That's a really dialed-down way of saying it got real in Physical Therapy this last week. My one legged squats on the machine were upped 10-fold. My quad was shaking trying to handle the weight. I broke a sweat with whatsherfacenewgirl, and I felt extremely fatigued and tired. But I didn't feel hurt. Every time the girl would ask me how each exercise felt I had conflicting feelings of wanting to be like "What do You think," and smiling and hugging her. It was hard. Really hard. But I did it. I finally feel like I'm moving forward and toward the end game.
Halfway through my therapeutic torture chamber, I was forced to balance on the "involved" leg and slowly lower myself down to chair level, all while not letting my knee slide inward or outward. I'm sure that's a simple process for all you healthy-kneed individuals, but this took a crazy amount of dedication and concentration for me. I chose to pick a spot to stare at as I silently counted down the repetitions while good ole' whatsherfacenewgirl stood and silently clapped me along. The spot I chose to stare at seemed to do the same thing back at me. It was the base of the cable machine and in big, bold letters, simply read "Patent Pending."
Hm. No really. Hmmmm. Like the patent of that cable machine? It's in the process of being designated as a non-replicate? Which part of it? I've seen tons of machines like this. Are they in the same, pending boat? I kept my eyes glued to the spot as I lowered, lifted, and kept balance. Patent Pending.
Kind of like me.
My healing process and full recovery is in process, but it hasn't been fully applied yet. The issue of acceptance is not quite there. But the general public is aware that the patent could be issued in the near future. I am a figurative version of this mind-numbing expression that is stamped on the bottom of a metal contraption that is luring me in and out of my own process. You with me here? Call it a stretch, but I am going to stay with this analogous measurement.
I have never invented anything, so I don't know all of the legal processes that go with obtaining a patent, but I have lived through many versions of the concept. Even relationships. All sorts - friendships, romantic relationships, or professional relationships. Isn't there always kind of a patent pending? A period of time before things are either real or rejected? When do you go from dating to a relationship? Or to nothing? When do you go from acquaintances to BFFs? I would argue that it takes time, trust, and experimenting of sorts. Despite the fairy tale concept of love at first sight, there's a lot that goes into things becoming established. Patent Pending.
I think this also keeps things exciting. If the patent is pending, nothing has been rejected yet. You may very well have a product that is a lawful mouse trap for anyone who dare re-create it, and that feels exhilarating - even if it hasn't happened just yet. I feel the same way. As long as I'm in the recovery process, the hopes and dreams of being an athlete again, being my fullest and fastest version, still stand. No stamp of disapproval is keeping me from this. It's the bait that is dangled just close enough to keep chasing after it. It's not a big topic of discussion while still in the process - you don't want to count your chickens too soon, right? What if the patent falls through and you told everyone your product was going to be the next protected entity? My 3rd ACL recovery feels the same. I don't want to promise that I'll be back on the court/field/track because...because what if that's not the case? I'd rather silently share my small victories and smile as I put one foot in front of the other. The pending mystery is scarier than I'm willing to admit most of the time.
But that's real.
Patent Pending is paradoxical mind-warp that is hope, fear, excitement, and dread all mixed in at once. It's when dating feels amazing, but looming disaster of the pin dropping in the 50% bracket that you don't want takes away some of that enjoyments. It's when you share your first secret with your new friend and sit on the vulnerability until you get to decide if it remained safe or not. It's exposure. It's risky. It's unsure.
But it's crazy awesome when you go from pending to patent issued. It's not perfect - there's a lot of work that comes along with this, too, of course, but it's successful. I picture taking my first running steps as if it will be this epic Forrest Gump moment where I just go and never stop. But to be honest, nothing has been like that thus far. At one point, I sat cross-legged, did a jumping jack, and squatted for the first time. I don't remember any of these moments specifically. They've all been part of the pending process. That's the thing with a patent pending - time doesn't stand still. There are still items that need to be addressed in the meantime. The end goal remains, but to just sit back and hope without working at is the biggest risk of all. I highly doubt those who are coming up with these products and applying for patents are just stopping the creation and production. The interim is important. I get that.
I don't think each victory is a big gesture. The patent pends until it is issued or abandoned. So does my recovery. I think both have a hell of a better chance with the right work though, and if I have to shakily lower myself down with a bored-but-friendly audience member, so be it. Dating doesn't become a relationship overnight the same way that an initial meeting doesn't turn into a secret-sharing slumber party. Those moments are gradual and earned. They are discovered for all of the right reasons, and my recovery stands as another pending success story. It will not be a life-defining moment. It will just be a compilation of many moments strung along to create a better feeling in the most relative sense. And then it will just be. My patent will no longer be pending and my health will represent the issuance of fortitude. It will not be a ribbon-cutting ceremony or a victory speech. It will just be a past that paid off in the long run.
And a lengthy collection of cringe-worthy blogs. It will be that as well.
But that's real.
Patent Pending is paradoxical mind-warp that is hope, fear, excitement, and dread all mixed in at once. It's when dating feels amazing, but looming disaster of the pin dropping in the 50% bracket that you don't want takes away some of that enjoyments. It's when you share your first secret with your new friend and sit on the vulnerability until you get to decide if it remained safe or not. It's exposure. It's risky. It's unsure.
But it's crazy awesome when you go from pending to patent issued. It's not perfect - there's a lot of work that comes along with this, too, of course, but it's successful. I picture taking my first running steps as if it will be this epic Forrest Gump moment where I just go and never stop. But to be honest, nothing has been like that thus far. At one point, I sat cross-legged, did a jumping jack, and squatted for the first time. I don't remember any of these moments specifically. They've all been part of the pending process. That's the thing with a patent pending - time doesn't stand still. There are still items that need to be addressed in the meantime. The end goal remains, but to just sit back and hope without working at is the biggest risk of all. I highly doubt those who are coming up with these products and applying for patents are just stopping the creation and production. The interim is important. I get that.
I don't think each victory is a big gesture. The patent pends until it is issued or abandoned. So does my recovery. I think both have a hell of a better chance with the right work though, and if I have to shakily lower myself down with a bored-but-friendly audience member, so be it. Dating doesn't become a relationship overnight the same way that an initial meeting doesn't turn into a secret-sharing slumber party. Those moments are gradual and earned. They are discovered for all of the right reasons, and my recovery stands as another pending success story. It will not be a life-defining moment. It will just be a compilation of many moments strung along to create a better feeling in the most relative sense. And then it will just be. My patent will no longer be pending and my health will represent the issuance of fortitude. It will not be a ribbon-cutting ceremony or a victory speech. It will just be a past that paid off in the long run.
And a lengthy collection of cringe-worthy blogs. It will be that as well.