The second week in February is always a bit rough for me. It is my mom's birthday, she would have been 75, as well as the four year anniversary of my broken hip. If we pay attention, we learn life hands us a few truly defining moments. For me, the broken hip was one such moment. From a lifetime of obesity to being fit for the first time in my life at the ripe old age of 46. The fated x-ray would reveal the displaced femoral neck fracture that needed a hunk a hardware and six weeks out of commission. A ridiculous dose of reality. If I am being honest, I would love to say I had osteoporosis. I would love to say I had a major fall or trauma that brought me to that place. I didn't have either. I had obsessively trained. Two hours of OrangeTheory a day, outside runs on top of that, plus yoga, plus, plus, plus..... The pain truthfully began months before, but I wasn't stopping. I was fit and I was going to stay there, there was no going backwards at that point. A small slip in the dining room on a blanket just before Christmas caused me terrible pain, but I never hit the ground, so I convinced myself it wasn't serious. The only flaw in that logic was I couldn't walk. It didn't matter, I would use crutches when I needed to and I would keep going for six more weeks. I had decent days and bad days, but I was still going. I tried yoga, the chiropractor and hell, the day before the x-ray I rode an exercise bike for two miles convincing myself a little shake out was all that was needed. That is until reality hit. I had broken the biggest bone in my body all by myself. In retrospect, I would learn I had overtrained until I had a stress fracture that ultimately came apart. This derailing was squarely all on me.
"Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,
Drifting through the wind,
Wanting to start again"
- Katy Perry,"Firework"
As I was wallowing in the grief of losing my mom and the enormity of the circumstances of my hip fracture this week, Sirius Radio chose to play this. I remember when this song came out. It was 2010, my son was in junior high and had learned how to manipulate the car radio from the front seat. He loved to put this song on for his otherwise metal loving mom. He would sing along,"Do you ever feel like a plastic bag..." I always had the same answer. "No, because that's ridiculous. Nobody feels like a plastic bag." Over time it became the running joke. He would sing it, I would get annoyed and once again the teenage boy had gotten the best of his Guns 'N Roses loving mom.
"Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin,
Like a house of cards,
One blow from caving in"
Suddenly hearing this song with new ears, I am realizing this song was way more than plastic bags. Recovering from this injury proved to feel much like a bag in the wind or a very fragile house of cards. I couldn't do anything early on. I could not get dressed without sitting down or even carry a cup of coffee across the room as my newly appointed crutch friends required the use of my hands. I was a far cry from two a days at OTF. In a sober confession here, I will even admit, following an attempt to put my underwear on while standing up right after surgery, and realizing I could not do it, I would let out a colorful string of profanity followed by slamming the toilet seat down so hard it broke in half. I would never be ok again. Everything I had worked so hard for was going to slip away due to one stupid self induced injury. Oh yes, the pity party was well attended early on.
"If you only knew what the future holds,
after a hurricane comes a rainbow"
Ultimately I would pull myself together, thanks to the same Katy Perry loving son who would drag my sorry ass to the gym ten days post op, crutch it in there and fight the senior citizens for the arm bike each day that followed. As his early dubbed Batman to my Robin he would take his role seriously and help me to find other things to do physically. I could work core, and got to the place I could handle the arm bike for ten miles a day. Without him, I am not sure I would have found the spark I needed to get through it all. I even was able to go back to work two weeks after surgery and crutched it around the ER seeing patients like a boss for a month.
"Do you know that there's still a chance for you,
'Cause there's a spark in you"
"You just gotta ignite the light,
And let it shine,
Just own the night,
Like the Fourth of July"
I suppose if I am really looking back on the last four years, I have made a lot of progress in finding balance. Truth be told I am still a bit of a novice at training smarter, but am certainly better than I was 4 years ago. I have even been able to run 14 Spartan Races, two Dopey's and a handful of other halfs and 5k's. I'd love to say that every medal represents yet another personal accomplishment. My epic comeback, or my victory over obesity. In small part that is true, but my real accomplishment does not lay in faster race times or stuck spear throws. Every race I have done, I have had the honor of bringing newbies. Each medal for me represents showing others they can ignite their own light, and accomplish things they never thought possible. That right there is truly finding my personal rainbow after a category 5 hurricane. As I grieve a mom who should have been 75 this week, I'd like to think she would be proud of what I have done in recent years and my wish is that she has found a rainbow of her own. Otherwise, I suppose I should come clean with my son that I have, after ten years gotten past the opening line of this song and truly understand what it is to burst out of the storm like the bright lights of the 4th of July, but to lose the good natured teasing of a 23 year old growing up way too fast is not something I am quite ready for. Instead, I will continue forward one foot in front of the other and look to my personal proverbial sky for the next burst of color as I know the best is yet to come.
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