POP! It's the sound every athlete dreads. I sucked in a lungful of air. The sound echoed in my mind.
POP! It felt like hot pokers were stabbing me in my right hamstring. I instinctively shifted my weight to my left leg, feeling the reverberations deep in my core.
POP! My stomach churned. I envisioned my summer plans fading into darkness before they could even begin.
POP! One bad decision. In an instant, the pop changed everything.
I was standing next to an elderly man when he lost his balance and started to fall forward. Instinctively, I reached out to try and stabilize him. At the instant my arm connected with his chest, he lurched forward. The lurch abruptly twisted my right hip, and POP! I yanked my arm away and grabbed my right hamstring. The elderly man fell slowly to the ground, elbow and knee skinned but otherwise unharmed. I asked him all the appropriate questions, encouraging him to take a moment and collect himself. I watched as he slowly made his way upright, checking his elbow and knee. All good. Away he went.
The pain radiated from my hip to my knee. I felt the pop on my ischial tuberosity, or sit bone, but the pain was everywhere. Hot. Stabbing. Aching. The first nice weekend of the year lay ahead and I had big plans to cycle both days and do an afternoon birthday hike with friends on Sunday. I took a few tentative steps. Swinging my leg through the stride brought a gang of hot pokers with each step. I walked slowly, short strides. Why oh why did I try to catch the man? Rule number one: Let them fall. Always let them fall. The anger set in. The bad words. Frustration, rage, disbelief, defeat.
I got in my truck. Sitting was worse than standing. I shifted around, trying to get off of the burning pokers penetrating my leg. I called my husband, sobbing as I told him the story. He listened quietly, offering kind words, saying all the right things, all the things I needed to hear. He calmed me. I had a full day of clients and needed to gather my wits.
I texted my best friend and told her the story. I canceled my hiking plans for Sunday, knowing that I couldn't hike since I could barely walk. I held out hope that I could still ride my bike.
It took two full hours for me to work up the courage to look at my injured hamstring. Visions of a bruise from my hip to my knee flitted around the periphery of my brain. I stood in front of the mirror, facing away. I carefully peeled off my leggings, took a deep breath, and looked over my shoulder. No bruising. Whew. I looked closer for any muscle deformities, any strange lumps. All looked normal. I started palpating, trying to locate the specific point of the injury, but everything was sore. I pulled up my leggings and felt a glimmer of hope. Nothing appeared to be fully torn. I made it through the rest of the day, walking slowly, avoiding sitting at all costs.
Saturday dawned clear and bright. The hot pokers had receded, leaving a localized pain high on the hamstring attachment. I iced. I did some gentle stretching and easy mobility. I tried to process the anger I was feeling, to no avail. I did the only thing I knew how to do in moments of distress. I donned my cycling kit, gingerly swung my leg over the saddle, and slowly pedaled down the driveway.
I turned onto the main road into a bit of a headwind. I didn't care. The sun on my face was melting away the rage. Each soft pedal stroke feathered away the anger. The wind on my body felt like a blanket of peace engulfing me in its calm embrace.
I played with cadence, with gears, with tension on my leg. I found that it felt better to push just a little bit and keep an even, smooth pedal stroke. I tried standing. Immediate pain. I quickly sat down and resumed my even rhythm. My hamstring felt good with the even pace, pushing just a bit but still going easy. The movement felt healing for every facet of my being.
I finished the ride a different person. Every one of the negative emotions had fallen by the road side somewhere along the way. I felt happy again. I hung out on the back deck in the sun with my husband, our two dogs, and three cats, doing some easy stretching as we chatted about the upcoming summer.
My hamstring was still tender, not healed by any means. I knew hard efforts of any kind were in the distant future, but I could do easy efforts. I could move my body to help it heal. I could move my body to clear my mind.
As athletes, we know this. Movement heals the body and mind. Being outside heals the soul. Put tit all together and it results in a winning lottery ticket every time.
Injuries happen. All we can do is keep our bodies in shape, strong, flexible, mobile, and fit, so when we hear that inevitable POP, we know our bodies will be able to recover. I will ride tomorrow, and the next day. I will be back in the gym on Monday, doing my strength training. I may have an injured hamstring, but the rest of my muscles are strong and fit. My hamstring is no excuse to neglect the rest of my body. In fact, I look at it as an even more important reason to keep moving in ways that help my hamstring to heal.
Keep moving, fuel properly, and get outside. The rest will take care of itself.
Comments
Post a Comment