I hate being yelled at. I hate it even more when it’s my own body doing the yelling.
I went camping a couple of weeks ago. In my natural tendency to over do it and misread (ok, ignore) my body telling me to slow down, I decided it was a great idea to hike 23 miles in 3 days, with all 3 days being lots of bouldering, and the last day being mostly vertical. So on day 4, I hurt. My knees and hips were stiff. So I relaxed. Days 5, 6 and 7 I felt great. Still a little stiff, but nothing to write home about. Day 8 I spent sitting on airplanes. I HURT! Apparently I didn’t relax or stretch enough, and my knees don’t appreciate being cramped into a tight airplane seat for 6 hours. OK.
Days 9-13 sucked. I park on the 4th story of a parking garage, and work on the third floor of an office building. And I’m claustrophobic, so I NEVER take the elevator. Stairs were apparently not a good idea last week.
So on Saturday I visited a friend of mine who’s a sports therapist. She checked out the knee that’s still giving me fits. Yep, I f**ed it up. Her recommendation–stay off of it. No stairs, no running, no biking, no yoga. Nothing that requires severe bending or extension for at least 2 more weeks, probably a month. Right. After sitting at home not doing anything physical for a week, my plan was to hit the gym for some light biking last night (against her advice).
So I’m walking to the bus stop yesterday morning. I see the bus about a block away, but I’m still a block from the bus stop. I start running to make it. I get about 5 steps, when SPLAT! OUCH! SHIT!
I should have listened to my body in the first place, and my friend in the second. My punishment: I sprained my ankle. Now I have no choice but to take her advice.
Guess I should have listened before the yelling started. I promise I’ll slow down, (but I’m still taking the stairs).