Altered Ego
ON FEBRUARY 27, 2020, I heard the three little words every 41-year-old woman with a history of injuries longs to hear: You are cleared.
I’d just spent 12 months recovering from a surgery that promised to restore my shoulder to the joint it had been before a lifetime of sports erased most vestiges of rotator cuff, labrum, and tendon. So when my physical therapist released me to climb, lift, run, and compete at beach volleyball again, I was ecstatic. I. Was. Back.
For two weeks.
Then COVID-19 arrived and shuttered gyms, courts, tournaments, and all other endorphin-infused environments where the virus might lurk. While the pragmatist in me understood, the competitor in me bristled. I’d spent most of 2019 watching other athletes get stronger, faster, and better as I sat on the sidelines. I wasn’t about to let some viral rival ruin my return to glory; I vowed to come out of the pandemic better than ever.
While many raided Costco for toilet paper and hand sanitizer, I unburdened Big 5 of its dumbbells, kettlebells, and mats. I installed a pull-up bar in our hallway. I joined an online gym. I held myself to the same sixday workout schedule I had before my shoulder went the way of mass gatherings.
Except I wasn’t the same athlete. About the time Governor Jared Polis rolled back his stay-at-home mandate (day 46), I woke up to a knee so swollen (box jumps) none of my pants fit. I watched the elections unfold (days 237 to 240) while icing an inflamed elbow (pull-ups). By the time rioters descended on the Capitol (day 301), I had started to wonder, Are you really an athlete if you’re always injured?
I started walking more and running less. I put down the heavy weights and picked up a mountain bike. I started my mornings with physical therapy. I got scrawny. I didn’t care (too much), because I also stopped waking up in pain.
Make no mistake: I still get the shakes if I go more than two days without sweating. But today (day 691), the workouts look different. I still lift weights (not as heavy). I climb (not as hard). I play beach volleyball (not as well). And every morning, I do PT and try to accept wherever I am.
The other day, I dusted off the pull-up bar to see how short I was of my impressed. “That PT is working,” he said. “Your butt looks really good.”
