It’s the sound you never, ever want to hear. I was exercising at home, running with high knees, when, POP went my calf. It was audible, and hit me like a sucker punch in the gut. Joints go pop, knees go pop, muscles should certainly not go pop. But there I was, sitting on the ground, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next. You see, I run. Disclaimer: you would not meet me on the street and immediately think “Now there’s an athlete!” I have some fluff around the middle, but I also love to run. And I’m working on getting there, to the land of visibly fit. Hence the high knees.
But now I’d done something, and would have to go see someone with medical training to find out exactly what the extent of my injuries were.
Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. My Achilles’ tendon is mercifully intact. Somewhere within the belly of my calf is a tear that, with good medical care and patience on my part, will heal. I am fortunate to have access to medical care and insurance, both of which should pave the path to this being only a memory.
In the midst of all this, while parts were still unknown, while I was sitting on couches and asking my family to retrieve things to save steps, I thought. A lot. There was some humbling of assumptions and gratitude. And hope. Lots of hope.
Today I was cleared to continue physical activity: “You can walk and do yoga.” I’ve never been so excited for what I would consider the lighter parts of my exercise habits. Perspective. Gratitude. Hope.
“You can walk.”