A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with one of the horse trainers I’ve been working with for the last few months.
It went something like this:
Trainer: “I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to like very much.”
Trainer: “You need to drop 20lbs.”
Me: “Oh…uh, ok. Thanks.”
His intentions are good and I wasn’t offended at all by his comment. In fact, I appreciated his boldness and honesty. But, I’d be lying if I said that what he said didn’t bother me. Though I am not obese, I’ve known for a while that I could stand to lose some weight. The way he put it, if I wanted to progress better and faster in my training, my height-to-weight ratio needed to be better. I would need to either 1. grow about 4 inches or 2. lose about 20lbs or so. The former isn’t really going to happen at this point but the latter is totally possible. If I am willing to make it a priority, that is.
Rocks and running
So, toward that end, I picked up running again. I used to run regularly. I even managed to complete my second half-marathon in October of last year. However, since then, I haven’t been motivated to run consistently for some reason. Not entirely sure why but, regardless, it’s meant that I really haven’t been as active overall this year.
That changed on Monday when I went for my first run in way too long and managed to complete a mile! Yay!
Then, on Wednesday, I set out for another run, taking two of our furbabies with me to get them some exercise (not to mention let some energy out!). And, like any smart runner does I stretched, warmed up a little and then started.
I lasted all of about 3 minutes.
As I rounded the first corner in our neighborhood, I stumbled upon a rock. Literally.
I didn’t even see the rock so when I hit it, and felt pain shoot through my left foot, I was surprised. But only for a second because, as my foot collapsed underneath me and I tumbled down toward the ground, I knew I’d twisted it on something.
And, when I looked up, I saw it.
A medium-sized, almost perfectly round, rock in the shoulder a couple of feet away from me. It was like hitting a large marble. I fell forward, toward the curb and onto Oscar, our three-year-old Boxer. He’s fine, though; just let out a small yelp as he scurried out from under me, looking back at me confused and surprised.
I, however, was not doing so well.
I knew I couldn’t walk back to the house so I called my husband to come get me and the dogs. All evening, I had the foot elevated and iced but watched as a medium-sized bulge on the outside of my foot began to appear, grow larger, change color(s) and become more tender.
Eventually, a friend of ours, who happens to be an Athletic Trainer, took a look at my foot. He poked, prodded, asked questions and watched for my reactions. Then, he called a local Orthopedist to set up an appointment for the next morning where it was confirmed that I had, indeed, broken my foot.
Yep, an x-ray showed a fracture in the 5th metatarsal of my left foot. Joy.
Here’s the upside to my little injury.
I have some incredible family and friends. For real.
First, it was my colleague who contacted her Athletic Trainer husband to take a look at my foot at 9:30 at night. Then, he called his Orthopedic friend to set up an appointment for me first thing the next morning. Then, it was my mother-in-law who spent her whole morning sitting with me at the Orthopedic office and driving me around to the various places I needed to go between it and home. She even got me food and made sure I was settled at home before leaving. Then, it was all of the comments of sympathy and support on social media.
And, finally, it is my sweet husband who is a self-proclaimed doter.
And, ohmygoodness, has he been doting on me! Everything from bringing me “comfort” food (or Dr. Pepper!), to bringing me things I need while I sit on my bum, to helping me balance while I put my britches on to helping me get in-and-out of the bathtub so I can get clean, this man that I have pledged my life to has put his on hold for the last couple of days to make sure I am comfortable.
As an incredibly independent individual, I sometimes struggle with receiving help and attention from the people in my life. However, this does not mean that I don’t appreciate it all. I just suck at requesting it and, at times, even expressing the gratitude when it comes.
I think all of this support I have been receiving from friends and family is part of the “love one another” command that the Lord gives to each of us. Love takes many different forms but I think it essentially comes down to seeing others and giving yourself. When those two things collide, love abounds.
And I am grateful to experience it from so many people, in their unique and various ways, in my life.