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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2lPsT5h:
lookninjas:
I’ve seen a lot of posts comparing the current political situation to a race – it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon! No, it’s not a marathon, it’s a relay! Well, if it’s a relay, then it’s fucking Ragnar (okay I haven’t seen that one which is kind of disappointing so I’m putting it out there) – and none of them have quite connected, which is strange to me because I’m usually a glutton for running metaphors of all kinds. Today, however, as I was stretching out my painful, tight, still slowly-healing left hip and quads, I realized what did feel right to me, in terms of metaphors. And that is that this isn’t a race at all.
This is rehab.
I’m kind of an expert in injuring myself, as it happens. I’m good at it. I do it all the fucking time. So this is a very familiar process to me. It starts, not with a sudden, catastrophic failure, but with a slow accumulation of symptoms that are categorically assessed and then written off as no big deal – a little tightness here, a little soreness there, increasing daily but still casually ignored as something that can be run on, as something that will certainly never get in the way of anything. The proverbial frog in boiling water, if you like. And then one day, midrun, it becomes clear that that little twinge is in fact a big fucking deal, and what should’ve been just another run turns into a painful, limping crawl towards shelter. Next, the immediate rush of denial, of bargaining, of looking for miracle cures. Maybe some homeopathic arnica pills! Maybe a new foam roller, the kind with the knobs and spikes for deep tissue release! Maybe yoga, or stretch bands, or hot baths or ice baths or maybe – But the goal being that one week of doing this Weird Trick That Makes Physical Therapists Hate You! and it’s back to running again.
That doesn’t work, of course. There is no One Weird Trick to recovery.
This is the point, for me, where I make a token effort at Being Good. I resolve to foam roll every day. I might pick up a stretch or two to add to my repertoire. Utility doesn’t necessarily matter – it’s just doing something, because I need to be doing something, because I want to do something that will fix things but I don’t actually want to figure out what it’s going to be so I just do something. I do this for like a month and sometimes, if I’m lucky, I have hit on the something that actually does help, but sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I spend two weeks for a miracle and then another month trying to Be Good and I still find myself completely unable to just lace up my shoes and go for a run, even for a little bit, even for three fucking steps.
That’s when the despair sets in. I probably don’t have to tell you what that looks like. Pretty sure we’ve all been there.
At some point in the despair period, though, I realize that just sitting around in misery is, in fact, not getting me any closer to running. That I’m going to have to commit to the long, slow process of getting better if I want to actually get better, and that it’s going to suck and be painful and hard and I’m gonna have to just deal with it (and possibly even go to a doctor if it comes to that). And I start taking my first, faltering steps to figure out what that process is gonna look like. If I need a doctor. Where the injury is, exactly. What caused it, what will actually help it, and what I’ll need to do to prevent it from happening again. I pick a place to start, and I start, and it’s fucking hard as hell and everything is awful and nothing is helping and then, one day, some small progress. I get out of my car and my hip doesn’t hurt when I stand up. I can walk without having to think constantly about what my left leg is doing and why doesn’t it feel like my right leg does. I manage a single-legged squat without falling over.
Slowly, a new normal reasserts itself: not a normal where I go out for a run every day, not a normal where progress is a matter of miles, but where progress is a matter of tiny degrees. Figuring the exact position of a low lunge to get the best stretch in my hip. Getting my foot closer to my hand in Half Happy Baby. Not having to put a pillow under my knees for Reclining Bound Angular.
Adding form drills, one by one, to my warmup. High knees. Prone marches. Leg swings. Hip raises.
I set a goal – to run to the corner and back.
The first time I try, I walk half of it. Wait a week. Try again.
Walk half. Wait a week. Try again.
Try again. Try again.
But the point is, as the point nearly always is for me, learning to make incremental progress. To let go of the idea that the goal is to set enormous goals and attain them easily, with no pain and no risk, but to work steadily towards small moment of hope despite pain, fear, and setbacks.
That’s what this shit feels like to me, at least right now. Not a race, with a clearly defined finish and free water and bagels on the other side, but a long slog through pain and fear and frustration in the hopes that it will make me stronger, more stable, and able to avoid this kind of collapse in the future.
And if this resonates with you, then just remember one thing – the fundamental thing about recovery is for the most part, it sucks. It really does. It hurts and it’s hard and it’s scary, and that’s normal, and it’s okay, and it’s going to get better. You’re going to figure out what works, whether on your own or with someone who’s been there or with a whole team of experts, and you’re going to do as much of it as you can do on as regular a schedule as you can come up with, and you’re going to make progress even if it doesn’t always feel like it, and you’re going to heal. We’re going to heal. Together, we’re going to heal this.
So if everything sucks today, and it very well might, that’s a normal part of the process and not a failure on your part. Do what you can do, forgive what you can’t, and keep moving.
You’ll heal. We’ll heal. Someday.
lookninjas:
I’ve seen a lot of posts comparing the current political situation to a race – it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon! No, it’s not a marathon, it’s a relay! Well, if it’s a relay, then it’s fucking Ragnar (okay I haven’t seen that one which is kind of disappointing so I’m putting it out there) – and none of them have quite connected, which is strange to me because I’m usually a glutton for running metaphors of all kinds. Today, however, as I was stretching out my painful, tight, still slowly-healing left hip and quads, I realized what did feel right to me, in terms of metaphors. And that is that this isn’t a race at all.
This is rehab.
I’m kind of an expert in injuring myself, as it happens. I’m good at it. I do it all the fucking time. So this is a very familiar process to me. It starts, not with a sudden, catastrophic failure, but with a slow accumulation of symptoms that are categorically assessed and then written off as no big deal – a little tightness here, a little soreness there, increasing daily but still casually ignored as something that can be run on, as something that will certainly never get in the way of anything. The proverbial frog in boiling water, if you like. And then one day, midrun, it becomes clear that that little twinge is in fact a big fucking deal, and what should’ve been just another run turns into a painful, limping crawl towards shelter. Next, the immediate rush of denial, of bargaining, of looking for miracle cures. Maybe some homeopathic arnica pills! Maybe a new foam roller, the kind with the knobs and spikes for deep tissue release! Maybe yoga, or stretch bands, or hot baths or ice baths or maybe – But the goal being that one week of doing this Weird Trick That Makes Physical Therapists Hate You! and it’s back to running again.
That doesn’t work, of course. There is no One Weird Trick to recovery.
This is the point, for me, where I make a token effort at Being Good. I resolve to foam roll every day. I might pick up a stretch or two to add to my repertoire. Utility doesn’t necessarily matter – it’s just doing something, because I need to be doing something, because I want to do something that will fix things but I don’t actually want to figure out what it’s going to be so I just do something. I do this for like a month and sometimes, if I’m lucky, I have hit on the something that actually does help, but sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I spend two weeks for a miracle and then another month trying to Be Good and I still find myself completely unable to just lace up my shoes and go for a run, even for a little bit, even for three fucking steps.
That’s when the despair sets in. I probably don’t have to tell you what that looks like. Pretty sure we’ve all been there.
At some point in the despair period, though, I realize that just sitting around in misery is, in fact, not getting me any closer to running. That I’m going to have to commit to the long, slow process of getting better if I want to actually get better, and that it’s going to suck and be painful and hard and I’m gonna have to just deal with it (and possibly even go to a doctor if it comes to that). And I start taking my first, faltering steps to figure out what that process is gonna look like. If I need a doctor. Where the injury is, exactly. What caused it, what will actually help it, and what I’ll need to do to prevent it from happening again. I pick a place to start, and I start, and it’s fucking hard as hell and everything is awful and nothing is helping and then, one day, some small progress. I get out of my car and my hip doesn’t hurt when I stand up. I can walk without having to think constantly about what my left leg is doing and why doesn’t it feel like my right leg does. I manage a single-legged squat without falling over.
Slowly, a new normal reasserts itself: not a normal where I go out for a run every day, not a normal where progress is a matter of miles, but where progress is a matter of tiny degrees. Figuring the exact position of a low lunge to get the best stretch in my hip. Getting my foot closer to my hand in Half Happy Baby. Not having to put a pillow under my knees for Reclining Bound Angular.
Adding form drills, one by one, to my warmup. High knees. Prone marches. Leg swings. Hip raises.
I set a goal – to run to the corner and back.
The first time I try, I walk half of it. Wait a week. Try again.
Walk half. Wait a week. Try again.
Try again. Try again.
But the point is, as the point nearly always is for me, learning to make incremental progress. To let go of the idea that the goal is to set enormous goals and attain them easily, with no pain and no risk, but to work steadily towards small moment of hope despite pain, fear, and setbacks.
That’s what this shit feels like to me, at least right now. Not a race, with a clearly defined finish and free water and bagels on the other side, but a long slog through pain and fear and frustration in the hopes that it will make me stronger, more stable, and able to avoid this kind of collapse in the future.
And if this resonates with you, then just remember one thing – the fundamental thing about recovery is for the most part, it sucks. It really does. It hurts and it’s hard and it’s scary, and that’s normal, and it’s okay, and it’s going to get better. You’re going to figure out what works, whether on your own or with someone who’s been there or with a whole team of experts, and you’re going to do as much of it as you can do on as regular a schedule as you can come up with, and you’re going to make progress even if it doesn’t always feel like it, and you’re going to heal. We’re going to heal. Together, we’re going to heal this.
So if everything sucks today, and it very well might, that’s a normal part of the process and not a failure on your part. Do what you can do, forgive what you can’t, and keep moving.
You’ll heal. We’ll heal. Someday.
