Some of you may know that I managed to screw up my hamstring in my left leg. The leg itself has an interesting history, having almost abdicated its responsibility to always keep the right one company and to sincerely cooperate with brother leg. It’s a really good story, but the whole thing here is an excuse to write from a completely unplanned perspective and not that one.
I have had the most fun writing when I have traveled far away, experiencing newness with each blink. Man, I couldn’t wait for some of the days to end, because I was so excited to share my utter amazement with people like you. I am sure everyone has had a feeling way more than one time that you were busting to tell the first person you saw about something that just happened.
I spent one of the most terrifying nights of my life, sitting on an unfamiliar Harley Street Glide, snaking my way up into Yosemite, freezing my ass off in the pitch black mountain darkness. Miraculously, I made it to my cabin, seriously concerned I wasn’t going to pull of my 2,000 mile odyssey, which lay ahead. After catching my breath for a day, I was sitting on my Harley like I owned it, the Eagles were blasting out of the speakers and I was rolling into the park, greeted by those fantastic rock gods. I couldn’t wait to share it all.
I’ve got a good one for you. Let’s say you’re pretty much going about your fairly predictable routines and the next thing, you are in bed. Your left leg is hugging the three pillows under it. You are constantly wrapping it or icing it and always, always treating it deferentially. When you know how much it can hurt, the thought of being strangled by it one more time makes you terribly tentative. Suddenly, everything stops around you and you surround yourself in a healing cocoon, where nothing else matters. My disclaimer is that I am only talking about me and what i say doesn’t necessarily reflect the views of management.
I would be so much happier, sitting on my rented Harley, gliding into Yosemite, owning the road, but I am in midst of an adventure in stillness and mindless repetition. I would say I’ve spent at least 80% of my time during the past ten days in a single position, in exactly the same spot on my bed. I spent more than half that time with no music, no movies, no nothing. Think about it.
My body told me we really screwed up that leg and should have been paying more attention to it all along, but we didn’t. It is so hard to describe living in that cocoon of healing. I didn’t care about anything else. I wanted that pain to stop. I dreamed of sauntering to the bathroom, getting back before the throbbing became a guttural, pained exhalation. It’s funny how you also hold out for any detectable sign of improvement in the midst of the body chaos.
Before we go any further, I don’t want you to think whenever “pain” is in the title, it’s gonna be this old guy bitching about all the pain in his life. I want to continue writing about this experience and pain is the code word. I am going to be working with my hamstring for some time to come. I am a man of iron clad, dumb ass, habits and they have been totally disrupted by this obscene intrusion.
Up until now, my participation has been passive. My job has been to do as little as possible and I’d like to think I shined in the effort. Today seemed like the perfect day to check back in with you. I think the party is over for me. Sitting on my ass and complaining is not a viable alternative any longer.
I now officially mutate into a world class athlete, whose sole concern is to be able to compete at a level that continues to nurture his soul. I want my body back and I am finally feeling it is time to begin the work. I just got off the bed and walked around the kitchen briefly and it felt incredibly new. Ravi Shankar came on with one of his thirty-minute ragas and I had to get away. Fast forwarding would be the act of a weak man. I really do feel like I burrowed deep inside myself to do the work and I have suddenly emerged into a new world.