“Slowing Down”

Whenever I think I don’t have material, I giggle.  A broken ankle is golden material if there were to be any, as I can surely type while lying on the couch with dogs sprawled across me! People keep saying (as I have said to them): maybe this is God’s way of slowing you down.  And admittedly at first, I agreed.  Isn’t that a logical thing to assume?  But then I started to think about it, and I stopped agreeing.  I don’t think God wanted to slow me down – I think I was bouldering and fell off the blessed wall and had an accident. Especially me, we are all so quick to need a reason for something to happen.  Especially me, we need analysis in order to accept reality and move forward.  Especially me, we need to make sense of something awful in order to process it logically and have faith that it will still turn out OK. No, this wasn’t in my plans.  I did not intend to fall and break my ankle and stop training just a few weeks into getting back into a comfortable groove.  I did not want to stop working on my legs, evening out imbalances from running so much and not having as much strength training underneath me.  I did not want to stop improving my aerobic capacity or stop running on the weekends to clear my head.  I did not want to have to reschedule all of my work meetings in the middle of our busiest quarter and do presentations remotely.  I did not want to cancel going to Ocean City for a weekend of service and connection.  I did not want to change my plans, but guess what? I did, and I am.  And despite a lot of tears of pain and frustration and overall sadness at my condition, I really am OK.  I really am OK not training right now.  I really am OK not continuing down the road I was already embarking, because I know that road will be there for me to continue on when I’m ready.  I really am OK taking a backseat and working from my couch, knowing that I always give my best effort regardless of the location I am working from (and frankly, driving to Virginia three days in a row sucks even on a perfect day).  I really am OK going with the flow, letting people help me and letting people show up. None of this is within my control, so struggling to fight what I cannot would do me no better. This is life.  We go up and we come back down.  We stagger sideways and we bump into a few corners, but we keep going.  I think it’s important to be where we are and not rush into acceptance or forgiveness or gratitude before we are ready, but once we can we to keep going.  Never did I think I’d be grateful for the times I could easily carry a cup of coffee or take Bam her food.  Never did I think I’d be grateful for the ease with which I can usually make my bed or put on pants, as I can do neither right now.  Because of that, I have had moments of extreme sadness and self-pity, but then I move on.  I say them out loud or share them with someone I care about, cry hysterically for 5 seconds and then onward I go.  I’m not playing hero or trying to do more than I can, which I normally would without question.  I didn’t “suck it up” and travel to Ocean City and hop around for the weekend even though I probably could have.  It served no purpose in my healing and didn’t bring me any joy to think about putting my body through that.  I’m not worried about how quickly I can start biking, let alone walking or running.  I’m not worried about how soon I can start up with some upper body work and get back to it, to do something.  Right now trying to get off the couch hurts and so does every movement. It is a visceral signal that doing absolutely nothing is exactly what I am supposed to be doing right now.  I am an athlete but being an athlete does not define me anymore.  I am fit but being fit is no longer my life’s purpose.  Working on myself physically is a gift I now know even more to not take for granted.  And that’s how I know training is a joy and my meditation today, and not a means to abuse myself and burn calories.  I used to need exercise because I couldn’t stand in my own skin.  I used to need to train because I didn’t have any connection to myself as my own friend and couldn’t slow down long enough to appreciate that. Hello growth.  Never would I have been able to sit with this before.  Never would I have embraced the pain and the suck and let it be what it is.  Never would I have accepted every persons’ offering of help.  Never would I have let someone put my clothes away, take out the trash, asked for them to do things for me because I was hell bent on proving I could do it.  Never would I have waited for someone to come help with the dogs and let them out because going down several flights of stairs with a boot I can’t actually use and crutches sucks. But guess what?  Denying someone the opportunity to help me hurts both of us.  It’s insulting.  I know how I feel when I push my mom around in her wheelchair so proudly and lovingly and hear her tell me she’s sorry and a burden.  Never have I felt my mother was a burden – I get no greater joy than when I help her get around because I know she can’t. So here I am.  I can’t get around, and I feel like my mother. Only I don’t have to – I can rely on my experience pushing her around and know that it may bring joy to other people to do the same.  Ever think about that?  Wear the other shoe longer than a second and you might remember that the same rules apply to us all. I almost forgot.