Whenever I say that I’d like to spend a day on the couch watching Netflix and reading, Tim always tries to tell me that I’m incapable of doing such a thing. That I’d get too antsy. That I’m not actually as lazy as I think I am (actually, his exact words in this regard are usually “you’re the least self-aware person I know,” which is way ruder). But for the past month, some bruised left ribs from a mountain biking mishap have meant that I’ve been doing a lot of sitting around on the couch and watching Netflix and reading and being lazy. And it turns out that Tim and I are both right.
On one hand, having an excuse for not doing things has been nice; it’s not that I’ve just been lazy, I’ve simply been avoiding unnecessary pain. For the first couple of weeks especially, movement of just about any kind was not quite excruciating, but not terribly far from it. When walking, the baby shockwaves from each left foot plant made it feel like tiny gnomes inside my torso were punching the affected ribs–so I wanted nothing to do with running, which would surely only intensify the gnomes’ ferocity. Bending was also painful, so even yoga felt pretty awful at times. Twisting was the worst, which meant kickboxing was out of the question. A week after the incident, I thought I could handle climbing, but reaching my left arm above my head brought those little gnomes back and being lowered meant that my harness dug right into the place where the pain was the worst, so that sucked too.
On the other hand, though, I’m so over it. Maybe there’s just a difference between “wanting to sit on the couch and do nothing” and “sitting on the couch doing nothing because it’s the only thing that feels okay,” but either way, Tim may have a point. I can’t just do it all day. An episode or two of The Handmaid’s Tale? Sure. Four or five chapters of the book I was reading? Totally. But after that, I do start to get antsy and feel like I should be putting on my running shoes, or tagging along on Tim’s bike ride, or doing literally anything at all.
Fortunately, I’ve finally started to feel almost normal again this past week. Twisting and crunching are still awkward, but they’re no longer painful. I haven’t gone for an actual run, but the few times that I’ve jogged across the street–because I hate being a pedestrian and feel bad when cars actually stop for me–haven’t been painful, either (it just makes me very aware of the fact that I have ribs at all). I’m hopeful that the 5K I’m running with my sister tomorrow will prove that I am, in fact, ready to get back into a routine that doesn’t involve any more frivolous TV time. And as long as the snow holds off until after the race and the roads stay not-slippery while I’m out there, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to avoid any clumsy falls that would put me back on the couch plan. 🤞