As anyone who knows me will be aware by now, I am injured. I’ve torn my meniscus and hurt my ACL, requiring a knee arthroscopy to repair the damage and a good long rest period: I’m looking at 2-4 weeks before mobility is restored, 6 weeks before I can start exercising and months before I’ll run again.
I ‘found’ fitness in September, working with a PT who helped me push my limits and change my attitude toward weight, body image, training and nutrition. The confidence I gained extended into every part of my life; work, relationships, everything I chose to do I attacked with the same enthusiasm as I would at the gym. I finally felt a strength in myself I hadn’t for years, and it was amazing.
When I first hurt my knee I tried to keep going, telling myself the pain was in my head and I could work through it; I’d come too far to quit now. The pain was bad though, and as my knee kept giving out I realised I needed to take my injury seriously. I was frustrated, I felt like I’d lost the thing that made me special and that I was being punished for something I didn’t do.
This was all made worse by a selfish presence in my life, someone I was trying to help before my injury who continued to rub progress and self-doubt into my thoughts: telling me I was selfish for abandoning her when she was finally achieving goals, telling me I was jealous of her progression and of her relationship when mine hadn’t worked out, that I’d been kidding myself all along thinking someone had found me special amongst all the other girls.
I shrank away from the thing that had made me special, away from the people I loved and told myself it just wasn’t for me after all. As my diagnosis (and later my surgery) approached I noticed I hadn’t been abandoned by the people I’d found, and I was flooded with offers of company during hospital visits and help during the time I’d need to be off my feet; as I built my own strength, I had also built a network of supportive people who weren’t going to let me give up on who I’d become.
I’m two days post-op as I write this and, although the pain is still too bad to move too much and I am stuck sellotaping plastic bags to my knees when I want to take a shower, I’m feeling better (and that’s not just the codeine speaking).
Soon the bandage will come off and I’ll start my physio, in a few weeks I’ll be able to stand and I’ll return to my wonderful Pilates instructor. It’s going to be a long journey back to pounding pavements, battle ropes and deadlifts, but every step is going to be worth it.
The most important thing training has taught me is that you’re stronger than you think you are. It’s only when you think you’re at your limit that you find the strength to get back up and start again. I’m not at my limit yet.