How Do You Deal With It?

Author's Note: So many of my posts are of the quasi-heroic nature. Life isn't like that, though. It's filled with bouts of doubt and insecurity. I'm right in the middle of one right now. It's where I've been since Pelotonia. I haven't written about Day 2 for a reason...

I'm just over half-way.

7 out of 12.

58%.

Then I start rehab.

--sigh--

I'm recovering from a major injury...again. My third in three years. You'd think I be wiser about it...about recovery.

I'm not.

I'm still learning.

And I'm doing a bad job of it.

What's Going On

I have a torn calf muscle.

Sounds pedestrian, doesn't it?

How's this: I tore part of the muscle from the bone. Think "chicken leg". More specifically, think: "gnaw on chicken leg."

Yep. I excel in the art of the injury.

Simple Is Never Enough

Two years ago it was a torn labrum (shoulder) with a detached bicep tendon. Not enough for me...nope! I had to take it to another level! Two weeks into recovery I developed bronchial pneumonia. You try coughing up buckets of phlegm with an immobilized, excruciatingly painful arm. Five weeks out of work, a frozen shoulder, and scary rehab followed. I rock!

Last year? Same shoulder...still with limited range of motion...and I shatter the collarbone--not broke, shattered five to seven pieces. Surgery. Titanium plate. Later x-rays revealed...the bone not fusing, so all I have holding the shoulder together are six screws, a thin, green (!) titanium plate, and my atrophied muscles. I am awesomeness personified!

So here I am, recovering once again.

You'd think I be wiser about recovery.

I'm not.

Honesty-time

Every Snickers I sneak. Every morning I stay in bed. Every "bad for you" food I devour. Every blog post I consider, and abandon, betrays me.

I'm weak stuff.

Sure, I still work out. Fits and starts. No regularity. No plan. No cardio (I can't!) Strictly weights.

I keep trying to convince myself I'm enjoying it. I keep looking at myself in the mirror seeking...something.

Validation?

Strength?

Focus, desire, intensity?

Nada. All I see is a flabby forty-something with little self-control and no drive. Where's the fire?

Who is this guy?

I don't recognize him, and I certainly don't like him.

So, back to the beginning.

How do I deal with it?

Badly.

Something's got to change...