At the end of April, after a couple of weeks of regular walking sessions, I sustained my first injury and it wasn’t even at an exercise session!
We were attending “The Grand White Dinner”, a picnic event where we had to wear all white outfits. I thought I was terribly clever, wearing cute white and grey flat Oxford shoes while half the women attending were sinking into the grass in ridiculously high heels. That was until we were leaving the venue and I fell on the road, thanks to my cute shoes having absolutely no grip on the sole. I was walking over a speed hump and slipped on the painted road markings. I landed with my knee at a very awkward angle, sending my bag flying and shattering a wine bottle and my ego in the process.
I tried to walk off the pain as we were probably a kilometre away from where we had parked but I was more than thankful when one of the members of our party hailed a taxi who drove me back to our car.
When I woke up the next morning, my knee was stiff and excruciating sore. I remember lying in bed, thinking that I needed to roll over but I wasn’t sure I could move my leg in the process. Fortunately after I limped around a bit, some of the stiffness wore off. A couple of anti-inflammatories later and I could just about hobble downstairs.
One of the first things that I thought about when this happened was what would I do about the walking? It was all going so well… slowly, but well… and I really didn’t want a setback. I was so scared that a setback would lead to me never getting back into the whole exercise thing. I didn’t have I great track history after all (pun intended).
As it happened, I only needed to take a few days off to allow the tendons or ligaments (or whatever it was that I sprained) to recover and I was back on the field within a few sessions.
This is an honest blog so I guess it’s time for a confession: there was a conflicting little voice in my head which actually enjoyed the time off and the excuse it gave me to take a break. I shall call that voice Miss Defeatist. When I say that I was scared that a setback would lead to me never getting back into it what I mean is that I think I was scared that that Miss Defeatist would scream louder than Mrs Determination.
Maybe my quick return was due to my latent competitive streak – I really didn’t want Nick getting far ahead of me in the programme and we were only weeks away from being promoted to road members.
My knee niggled for a few months afterward but I can proudly say now, 10 months later, that I didn’t let that annoying little Miss Defeatist win that round.
Pride, before the fall