Before the Jackson Browne concert! On April 1st, I signed off from this blog, declaring that my 28th year was the best it could be in less than 24 hours of that new, ripe age.
However...I'm back. I didn't lie, per say, because I have diligently been working on the projects that I promised to work on, and I have since been enjoying this 28th year as fervently as possible. This morning I woke up with a smile on my face and knew it was time to return here. Maybe it was because I had spent the prior evening dancing alongside my mother to our favorite live musician, Jackson Browne, in my small, but precious town, or maybe it was because our dog, Ginger greeted me with loving eyes and a two-paw hug.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was because I was reminded that an entire year has passed since I entered the operating room for the third time to succumb to the time and toll of recovering from an injury and everything that comes along with it. A year ago, I was determined to let my wit and will guide me through the recovery process better than the two time before, and I was almost giddy in my perseverance toward keeping a positive mind set.
I nailed it.
At least on August 12, 2014. The following days, weeks and months, as this timely tale so subtly, yet directly depicts, were full of trials and tribulations revolving around the injury and life itself despite my best efforts to rise above all. The moments that were supposed to feel so big often came with other subsets that I had not anticipated. The milestones - running, hiking, jumping - weren't quite as momentous as I had made them out to be.
I still ached (literally and figuratively) and I still needed help and attention and guidance. I didn't do it all on my own. For some reason, I had wanted to, but I am so thankful for the support of so many in various ways.
I gained weight, lost weight, felt good, felt awful, felt strong, felt weak, smiled, cried, made big life changes and delayed changing things at all.
All of those things are probably why the smile on my face this morning was so genuine. It's been 365 days since my 3rd knee surgery in 4 years. I worked out with one of my girlfriends yesterday morning, who is also the captain of the infamous football team where everything took place last year. We were doing these jump lunges over and over again - which, believe me, are hard no matter what type of knees you have. I was watching my trunk in the mirror, and when we took a break, we made eye contact and high fived each other.
"It's so great to see you doing all this!" she said.
She was right. Not only did that say a lot about her character, as an individual, invested in the health and recovery of one of her friends, but it allowed me to thank my body and all of those who contributed to its recover over the past year.
I've played in 3 full-day tournaments, took to the football field, rollerbladed, played soccer, jumped higher, run faster and pushed my muscles to new limits all in less than a full year of recovery. I still ice every day. Yes. EVERY day. I click and cringe and ache at times, but that is just part of the cycle. Reflecting on the past year feels quite similar - there are still reminders about things that have happened - lesser friendships, career changes and heartbreak are evident, but not limiting. They're almost a great reminder about the positive that comes from pushing through murky water. You're a little dirty, a little cold and a little run down, but you've crossed to the other side with new experiences and appreciation.
I asked for professional advice from one of my friends yesterday, and he gave it to me straight. "You're teetering between fear and comfort," he said. "You can either rest on the sure thing or you can reach out toward new challenges without security. You have to fail," he said. "Embrace that you're taking risks to better yourself and the fear will melt away."
I (truly) couldn't have said it better myself. Thanks to my amazing support group full of friends and family, my fitness instructors and physical therapist, I was able to eventually stop focusing on the fear of performing below the "old me" and, instead, start focusing on bettering the "current me."
Happy 1 year post-opiverssary to me. I can't wait to see what's in store for the next 365 days :-)
However...I'm back. I didn't lie, per say, because I have diligently been working on the projects that I promised to work on, and I have since been enjoying this 28th year as fervently as possible. This morning I woke up with a smile on my face and knew it was time to return here. Maybe it was because I had spent the prior evening dancing alongside my mother to our favorite live musician, Jackson Browne, in my small, but precious town, or maybe it was because our dog, Ginger greeted me with loving eyes and a two-paw hug.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was because I was reminded that an entire year has passed since I entered the operating room for the third time to succumb to the time and toll of recovering from an injury and everything that comes along with it. A year ago, I was determined to let my wit and will guide me through the recovery process better than the two time before, and I was almost giddy in my perseverance toward keeping a positive mind set.
I nailed it.
At least on August 12, 2014. The following days, weeks and months, as this timely tale so subtly, yet directly depicts, were full of trials and tribulations revolving around the injury and life itself despite my best efforts to rise above all. The moments that were supposed to feel so big often came with other subsets that I had not anticipated. The milestones - running, hiking, jumping - weren't quite as momentous as I had made them out to be.
I still ached (literally and figuratively) and I still needed help and attention and guidance. I didn't do it all on my own. For some reason, I had wanted to, but I am so thankful for the support of so many in various ways.
I gained weight, lost weight, felt good, felt awful, felt strong, felt weak, smiled, cried, made big life changes and delayed changing things at all.
All of those things are probably why the smile on my face this morning was so genuine. It's been 365 days since my 3rd knee surgery in 4 years. I worked out with one of my girlfriends yesterday morning, who is also the captain of the infamous football team where everything took place last year. We were doing these jump lunges over and over again - which, believe me, are hard no matter what type of knees you have. I was watching my trunk in the mirror, and when we took a break, we made eye contact and high fived each other.
"It's so great to see you doing all this!" she said.
She was right. Not only did that say a lot about her character, as an individual, invested in the health and recovery of one of her friends, but it allowed me to thank my body and all of those who contributed to its recover over the past year.
I've played in 3 full-day tournaments, took to the football field, rollerbladed, played soccer, jumped higher, run faster and pushed my muscles to new limits all in less than a full year of recovery. I still ice every day. Yes. EVERY day. I click and cringe and ache at times, but that is just part of the cycle. Reflecting on the past year feels quite similar - there are still reminders about things that have happened - lesser friendships, career changes and heartbreak are evident, but not limiting. They're almost a great reminder about the positive that comes from pushing through murky water. You're a little dirty, a little cold and a little run down, but you've crossed to the other side with new experiences and appreciation.
I asked for professional advice from one of my friends yesterday, and he gave it to me straight. "You're teetering between fear and comfort," he said. "You can either rest on the sure thing or you can reach out toward new challenges without security. You have to fail," he said. "Embrace that you're taking risks to better yourself and the fear will melt away."
I (truly) couldn't have said it better myself. Thanks to my amazing support group full of friends and family, my fitness instructors and physical therapist, I was able to eventually stop focusing on the fear of performing below the "old me" and, instead, start focusing on bettering the "current me."
Happy 1 year post-opiverssary to me. I can't wait to see what's in store for the next 365 days :-)
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