Dedication

Two-thirds of the way through last night's rugby practice, I realized I was freezing and that it had begun to rain.  I have no idea how long it had been raining, or how cold it really was.  We were standing in a circle, coach Pam's head surrounded by a halo of Thursday night lights perfectly highlighting each individual raindrop, steam rising off our heads and bodies.  And it occurred to me.  This was ridiculous.  There I was with a group of about 20 women, most of whom are flirting with middle age.  We were throwing each other into the mud and tearing up the field at 9:00 on a frigid Thursday night.  We all had to go to work the next day and pretend like our muscles weren't aching, our joints weren't creaking, and our eyelids weren't drooping with exhaustion.  (This doesn't even take into account the "Maryland Fun Club" some folks attended following practice.)  I was struck by the absurdity of our audacity to play this most violent of sports, but I was also moved by the dedication each of us have to our team.

This highlights a lesson I learned this week.  I was also shocked to realize the depth of the importance I place on improving my mental and physical state through exercise and being a part of a team.

During last weekend's match I tweaked my back and the pain had been getting steadily worse throughout the week.  I was terrified because the pain was similar to the summer of 2009 in which I was diagnosed with a bulging disk and told by a super-comforting doctor that I would probably always be in pain.  He was wrong -- the pain dissipated as I lost weight.  Yet here, at my life's fittest, it came rushing back.  During running club on Monday I made it 3/4 of a mile before I walked.  I was trying to "listen to my body," a skill that for me needs work.  At practice the following night I bowed out of several drills due to the pain.  Wednesday I ran a mile and a half before breaking down, physically and mentally.

Running buddy Matt was up ahead with running buddy Chelsea.  She took off faster to make an appointment, and Matt turned around to join me.  At this moment the pain in my lower back was intensifying with each pounding step, and all I could think was that either rugby or running was going to have to go.  There I was, half way through our 3-mile loop around the spooky old detention center and through a beautiful field, and I was beginning to think this injury would prevent me from reaching my rugby and triathlon goals.  While poor Matt looked on I began to walk, and to cry.  We talked about options, giving up one sport or the other temporarily, or pushing through the pain to risk further injury but to keep playing with the team.  He asked, "What hurts worst?  Your body, your head, or your heart."

In that split second I came to the conclusion that I was less worried about the pain and injury that I was about losing this new athlete identity.  My life has become increasingly positive as a result of athletics, and I would be heartbroken if I couldn't continue.

Luckily, Matt convinced me to try to find a physical therapist before I threw in the towel.  So I called around and got a good referral from a friend.  I swear to you, this woman she recommended works miracles.  She laughed at how misaligned my body was, from my feet up through my neck.  Then she got to work.  Two sessions (and a boat load of cash) later, my back pain is almost gone, my joints are looser, and my surgically repaired ankle has massively improved range of motion.  I'll be back next Tuesday...

Most importantly, I feel whole again, knowing I can keep pushing towards my goals.  Afterall, SATURDAY'S A RUGBY DAY!!!