Last week I managed to punch myself in the chest with my bike handlebars.  At the time it hurt, but I was more focused on getting through the rest of the bike ride and back to the car.  While I’ve had more than my fair share of cuts and bruises, I’ve not had an injury like this in quite awhile – one that actually sidelined me for a few days and made the smallest of tasks (changing sheets, carrying a laundry basket) painfully difficult.

For someone like me who is active, there was the added realization that I couldn’t do much – I couldn’t swim, ride my bike, roller skate, or get my butt kicked in the ladies group fitness class I joined. Heck, even the notion of cooking wasn’t appealing (chopping, lifting pots, etc.). Having physical limitations that prevented me from doing what I enjoyed most was almost worse than the injury itself, especially as I had no idea how long the recovery would be.  If there was a cracked rib amongst all the bruising, it could be awhile.

Luckily the pain started to subside mid-week, and I could walk and even run by this weekend.  I haven’t been so excited about the prospect of a run (ok, a jog given my pace) in a long time.  It was a huge reminder about how lucky I am, that despite some chronic lower grade issues, I am able to do most anything I want to.  For that I am grateful. 

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