A semi thirsty sponge

I am not drowning enough

For not being an athlete, I sure do have all the symptoms of being one. My feet are hard caked. My toe nails are doubled up. I have had an ACL repaired. And I seem to hurt in the same places like long distance runners do, although, I haven’t even come close to running a marathon. I am an almost athlete that these days I am looking at recovery and stretching after a workout very seriously.  This made me sign up for a foam rolling 101 at my Gym on a snowy Saturday morning.

Sarah, my instructor, stood in front of me. Her demure and toned figure had me assume that she must have always been fit and vanilla. She was Midwestern white. Without make up, her short hair tied up neatly behind her and non-bling athletic wear indicated her plane-janeness.   I took my place in the studio on a mat with a black 36’ foam roller.

Her story was all but ordinary. She wasn’t always fit. As a young girl, she tried out for all kinds of sports in school and kept getting rejected by every team. She then decided to hang out with the non-jockey crowd and ended up smoking and drinking her body away. She tried quit smoking for 9 years until she began running. Her first time out, she stopped short in 30 seconds, coughing her lungs out on the sidewalk but finally waking up. Right after that, she signed up for a marathon a year later, and trained her heart out. That was her recovery point. Ever since, she has been a thirsty sponge for all matters health. Keeping the body fit requires a lot more than running the occasional 10 kilometers and eating the odd salad. She has more than recovered.

I too have had recoveries of sorts. Back in 2006, post ACL surgery I took a serious stock of my life and my paunch. I too took up running, maxing out at 20 minutes. I stopped eating out all the time and cut out the soda from my life. Within a year, I was OK being alone. I was at my fighting weight of 157 pounds. I was doing great at work and made my peace with the limitations of being slightly better than average. It was particularly uplifting to see my repaired leg pressing more weight than my God given one.

It has been few years since I have inspired myself. It is frightening how far we must fall before we can recover. It is a double edge sword. To be truly free and happy one needs to be depressed first, crying in a corner.

Can I risk another fall? Would I be able to recover?  I see stories of immense struggle around me and I am filled with aversion, envy and a want to emulate. I am working hard but am I truly adding value to a a journey to a destination that I decided to chase when I was 13 years old? Is my destination wrong or am I not just thirteen enough?

My wife is nestled next to time. Her warmth is keeping me cozy on a snowy Saturday. It has been a good day. I un-knotted my thighs foam rolling over it. I ate delicious food that she made. And I you-tubed my iPad to emptiness with car and Mike Posner vidoes. But most importantly, I did not force myself to write this blog. And that is for now, a recovery of sorts.