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Pride? I’ve Got My Own

by on March 24, 2013

Like I said, right now I’m in a non-weight-bearing cast for a few weeks following surgery on my right foot. Without too much detail, the surgery was necessary, the timing was poor, my military workplace was (begrudgingly) generous in allowing it, and I’m happy about it overall.

But the recovery process sucks!

I don’t enjoy crutches. I don’t like hopping around the house on one foot, or balancing with a knee on a wall or counter to do any basic function I normally take for granted. I hate crawling up and down the stairs, but it’s easier than using the crutches.

And then there are the trips to the store.

Named for the very thing it takes away from you...

Named for the very thing it takes away from you…

Out of concern, people try to get me to take it easy and ride in the electric carts. Sometimes I begrudgingly agree, if I’m exhausted already. But I refuse to find myself on some “People of Wal-Mart” website. I refuse to let my default plan consist of plopping into a Rascal and scooting around the store, honking the little horn button whenever those pesky people walking on their own two feet get in my way.

The turtle and hare indicators on the speed dial are cute, at least. But I’ll still pass.

My family and I went out for a little bit of Spring fresh air the other day, and when we got home, we strolled down to the park behind our house so my middle son could ride around on his scooter and my daughter could shoot some hoops with her friends. (Also, my 2 year old got to run around and be generally insane, which is standard for him.)

I crutched my way down the winding, sloping sidewalk, chatting with my wife as she walked our Dachshund and held our toddler’s hand. A neighbor girl came running from across the street to relay a message from her mom. “Mister Dave, my mom told me to tell you you’re crazy if you’re goin’ crutchin’ all the way down that hill.”

You bet. I can use my bad foot as an excuse, or I can use the rest of my healthy body to make up for it and push myself a bit.

I liked the trip climbing up more than the way down.

I liked the trip climbing up more than the way down.

We had a good trip to the park. I chased my toddler around a little. I tried to shoot a few baskets. Turns out you can’t shoot too well when you can’t put both feet on the ground.

One of my daughter’s friends wasn’t going to come down to the court, until she told him, “My Dad’s out there on crutches trying to shoot a basket.”

“Really? I’ll be right down.”

They can laugh all they want. When it came time to head home, I got to the bottom of that hill and started pushing myself to get to the top as fast as possible (safely). I got my heartbeat up like a short sprint, made my arms and chest ache a bit. It felt good.

I crushed my goal on my Nike Fuelband to boot.

Sure, it probably looked silly. But it was way more activity than I expected I would or could do that day.

Apparently it was more than other people expected I could do, too.


From → Get Moving

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