Temporary? Insanity

To feel this old. That’s what I told Neil as I limped along the lakeshore path yesterday afternoon as our three hour hike around two local lakes was finally (oh finally!) drawing to a close. You see, my recent focus on trying seems to have addled my brain, because when we arrived at the crossroads where we had to decide whether to do the one hour loop of the small lake, or the figure eight around the two that would take three I said, “I’m up for it!”

I even felt cheerful at the prospect at tackling so huge a challenge. Addlepated indeed.

It began with a slight twinge in my right hip. The swinging motion of my gait seemed to be rubbing my hip raw from the inside out. I started walking with a slight limp, but I kept on. I’ve given birth twice. This was nothing! Just a twinge of pain. Well, then the twinge morphed into a stab, then on to stabbing and twisting combined. I let out a few gasps of pain but still, nothing I couldn’t handle. I’ve been working out for two months now. I’m tough. I can hack it.

Then my knee started flaring up. I’ve soft tissue damage there from a spill I took a year or so ago and it acts up when I push myself too hard. It started to seize up a bit, and pain radiated out from my kneecap in sharp bursts. The slight limp became a pronounced hobble. Next was a tensing of a muscle in my lower back, which began doing painful little flip-flops while my toes…good grief, my toes! The three end toes on my left foot went strangely numb and prickly. This feeling was sporadic but crippling.

Neil offered a few times for me to climb up the embankment to the distant road and wait for him to pick me up later in the car. Normally, I would have jumped at such an opportunity. But when we’d been at the cross-roads a few hours previous I’d seen something reflected in Neil’s facial expression that I rarely get to see. Pride. He’d been so proud of me. For having come so far from the whiney, snivelly, weak willed young girl he initially married.

He once told me he married me for my potential and I didn’t know whether to smack him, cry, or be glad that he saw in me things that I didn’t see in myself. I opted for none of the above and just tried to forget it, but yesterday I focused on the latter. There is some measure of joy in building a life with someone who can see my potential. Who wants better for me than I want for myself. Who can see what self-doubt and fear obscure from my vision.

So I kept on plodding, near to tears by the time the little dirt parking lot where we’d started from came into sight. And despite the waves of pain I was glad I was there, clutching at the car door wincing and sucking in quick gasping breaths. Glad that I wasn’t sitting by the roadside waiting to be picked up.

Perhaps that would have been the wiser course. Perhaps I wouldn’t be as sore as I am today, avoiding the many stairwells in our three story house the same way I avoid cheap chocolate. But I wouldn’t be as gladdened either. I wouldn’t feel the same pride I saw in Neil’s eyes yesterday as he pondered how far I’ve come. I wouldn’t be spending my day with a quiet smile on my face, pondering the exact same thing.

Yes, it hurts to try. I’m glad to have been taught that the hurting is okay. That it means something. That good can come from it.

Oh, and Thanksgiving dinner? Turned out scrumptiously. Potatoes would gladly die for the glory of tasting as good as my mashed potatoes. Recipes to follow.