Reality bites
I publicly admitted today that my 2007 Club Ultimate season was over. It's unclear whether it really began. I've been injured so long that my teammates probably wouldn't recognize me anyway. I haven't been on the field in months. I'd accepted personally some time ago that my comeback was not for this year, but I'd remained silent hoping for a miracle.
Every week, I get a little closer. I go whole days now without hurting. I sometimes have the urge to break into a run and I believe I could do it pain-free, at least for a little bit. I'm trying to heal completely so that when I do come back, I come back whole and ferociously. Many days both of those parts seem like pie-in-the-sky dreams. I've nearly adjusted to a life where playing Ultimate is not the centerpiece. Nearly adjusted may be a little strong, but I at least understand that it might be possible, if undesirable.
To admit this setback was sad for me and it makes my psoas twinge.
1 comment:
That's how you spell psoas?! All this time in my head, I'd been spelling it "soaz" and thinking it sounded more like a city in Latin America than something inside your body. There go my hopes of a National Spelling Bee championship (not that they hadn't already been dashed by the fact that I'm no longer 11).
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