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With physical therapy, I find myself apologizing for things and saying, "If you could have seen me 6 months ago, I was in much better shape than I am now." Of course, they say, "Your'e doing great." And it makes me feel better, but I still feel... I guess embarrassed. I jogged for 5 minutes the other day and it felt like I had run a marathon. The anger I had toward the injury has changed to anger toward myself. I'm angry that things aren't the same as they used to be and I can't just go run two miles, go lift weights, and then the next day get through a two hour practice.
I know, it'll come with time, but my youthful impatience is still here.
I find myself excited to go to physical therapy though. It feels good to be able to jog again. To sweat and jump and realize that I can do things I thought I couldn't before, it's been quite the journey. I feel the same excitement about working out now as I used to. Yes, things are slow, but they are progressing. I mean, I wish I could just get out on the court now and go for 40 minutes, but that's not how life works when you have an injury.
People stare at me just like they used to, only this time I know that it's not because I have a brace on my leg or I limp. Unless I'm wearing shorts, no one can tell I've had surgery. Nobody can see the four scars on my leg. I'm actually kind of proud of them. I've had numerous people tell me ways to prevent scaring, but it doesn't bother me one bit. The four incision scars on my leg show that I got through something hard. I persevered, coming out with more than just renewed muscle strength. These scars remind me that even when life gets tough, in the end, things will work out.
It's been a whirlwind 3 months. My greatest Christmas present?
Feeling like my normal self again jogging in 41 degree weather.
My only New Year's Resolution?
Never give up.
Until next time...
Happy Healing,
Alyssa