“ I broke my ankle.”
This is a phrase I hear multiple times a day as an emergency provider. In fact, it was a phrase I used myself following the tragic Duplo Block incident of 1997 where I tripped on a lego coming down the stairs with a full basket of laundry. Much like me at that time, the person uttering said phrase usually has an ankle the size of a watermelon that is actively turning colors right in front of me, and has convinced themselves of the shattering of bone that clearly lives beneath this mess. However, about 90% of the time the X-ray reveals no break and I am left wrapping up said watermelon ankle as the patient asks me over and over if I am sure it is just a sprain. Am I sure this ugly looking leg is not broken? I am sure. In fact, the radiologist and I are both sure. At times arguments ensue as people are incredulous that something that looks like this could truly be incrementally better in the two weeks I am promising them. Yes, it is quite a process at times with sprains.
Which brings me to the actual mangled ugly fracture I saw this week. Not a speck of bruising, a wee bit of swelling to where I was questioning the drama of her being in a wheelchair when she arrived. Yet, what lived underneath was a mangled mess that will only be walkable again with a huge amount of hardware and a painful surgery that will take a while to recover from. On one of my two hour commutes this week I was thinking about how paradoxical this clinical picture actually is. Well, to be fair, I was trying my best to get my mind off a text I had sent that morning.
You see, I have an accountability partner. The person I promise trainings to when I simply don’t want to do them. That particular day, I was coming off a 72 mile commute three days prior leading into a three day stretch of 32 hours, only to commute 2 more hours to my next site and gear up for a 9 hour day the next day, followed by a two hour commute home. I was tired. I was hungry. I missed the kids, and most importantly, I didn’t want to train. This was going to be really ugly. The,”I don’t wanna” screamed through my thoughts alternating with my disdain for the text I had sent, as well as some misdirected anger at the person I sent it to. After all, it was hard to let down someone else. It would be much easier if it were just me. When I arrived at the hotel, I would be reminded by said text recipient, of the big hairy goals that lie months from now on the back end of this training . Profanity slipped out and echoed off the walls of my hotel room as I laced up my Hokas and hit the rickety hotel tread for a benchmark run at a 9:00 minute pace rounded out by the New Radicals,”You Get What you Give” through my wireless headphones.
Don't give up. My partner would not allow that and I wouldn't let him down. The run on an old hotel treadmill proved to be aggravating to my hip full of hardware and was not outstanding. It was ugly, uncoordinated and not what I was used to. At the same time, it was faster than two weeks ago, a run I also considered ugly at the time. Much like the watermelon ankle, I am wondering how many times we allow what appears to be ugly and hard to stop us from realizing that just about anything we take on may be that way at first, but we are not broken underneath, and with practice, will be a whole lot better in two weeks if we just stay the course? How many times do we choose instead, to rest on something that looks perfect from the outside, choose to take on no ugly challenges and submit to a complacency in our journey that is ridiculously broken underneath and then suffer the fallout of truly only getting what we gave. In the end, I would send my partner my stats, suddenly seeing myself one step closer to the big goals in the distant horizon, grateful for the text I had been pissed about all day long and suddenly thankful to the partner who holds my feet to the fire to make me better.
This is a phrase I hear multiple times a day as an emergency provider. In fact, it was a phrase I used myself following the tragic Duplo Block incident of 1997 where I tripped on a lego coming down the stairs with a full basket of laundry. Much like me at that time, the person uttering said phrase usually has an ankle the size of a watermelon that is actively turning colors right in front of me, and has convinced themselves of the shattering of bone that clearly lives beneath this mess. However, about 90% of the time the X-ray reveals no break and I am left wrapping up said watermelon ankle as the patient asks me over and over if I am sure it is just a sprain. Am I sure this ugly looking leg is not broken? I am sure. In fact, the radiologist and I are both sure. At times arguments ensue as people are incredulous that something that looks like this could truly be incrementally better in the two weeks I am promising them. Yes, it is quite a process at times with sprains.
Which brings me to the actual mangled ugly fracture I saw this week. Not a speck of bruising, a wee bit of swelling to where I was questioning the drama of her being in a wheelchair when she arrived. Yet, what lived underneath was a mangled mess that will only be walkable again with a huge amount of hardware and a painful surgery that will take a while to recover from. On one of my two hour commutes this week I was thinking about how paradoxical this clinical picture actually is. Well, to be fair, I was trying my best to get my mind off a text I had sent that morning.
You see, I have an accountability partner. The person I promise trainings to when I simply don’t want to do them. That particular day, I was coming off a 72 mile commute three days prior leading into a three day stretch of 32 hours, only to commute 2 more hours to my next site and gear up for a 9 hour day the next day, followed by a two hour commute home. I was tired. I was hungry. I missed the kids, and most importantly, I didn’t want to train. This was going to be really ugly. The,”I don’t wanna” screamed through my thoughts alternating with my disdain for the text I had sent, as well as some misdirected anger at the person I sent it to. After all, it was hard to let down someone else. It would be much easier if it were just me. When I arrived at the hotel, I would be reminded by said text recipient, of the big hairy goals that lie months from now on the back end of this training . Profanity slipped out and echoed off the walls of my hotel room as I laced up my Hokas and hit the rickety hotel tread for a benchmark run at a 9:00 minute pace rounded out by the New Radicals,”You Get What you Give” through my wireless headphones.
Don’t give up,
You’ve got a reason to live
Can’t forget
We only get what we give
Don't give up. My partner would not allow that and I wouldn't let him down. The run on an old hotel treadmill proved to be aggravating to my hip full of hardware and was not outstanding. It was ugly, uncoordinated and not what I was used to. At the same time, it was faster than two weeks ago, a run I also considered ugly at the time. Much like the watermelon ankle, I am wondering how many times we allow what appears to be ugly and hard to stop us from realizing that just about anything we take on may be that way at first, but we are not broken underneath, and with practice, will be a whole lot better in two weeks if we just stay the course? How many times do we choose instead, to rest on something that looks perfect from the outside, choose to take on no ugly challenges and submit to a complacency in our journey that is ridiculously broken underneath and then suffer the fallout of truly only getting what we gave. In the end, I would send my partner my stats, suddenly seeing myself one step closer to the big goals in the distant horizon, grateful for the text I had been pissed about all day long and suddenly thankful to the partner who holds my feet to the fire to make me better.
You've got the music in you
Don't let go
You've got the music in you
One dance left
This world is gonna pull through
Don't give up
So, friends, today, I think the trick is to find the music in you and embrace the ugliness that comes along with any hard challenge and then tell someone about it. Tell someone you would be mortified to let down, and get after it regardless of the amount of profanity it may take to get yourself out there. Only then can will you truly see what you are capable of. In those moments you will know with certainty, the best in yet to come.
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