When the Finish Line Moves

Apparently, physical therapy is a team sport. I do the exercises. Chica provides moral support. 😂

Apparently, I have been training for an event that no longer exists.

Who knew?

For months, one of my goals has been getting my walking mileage back up. Two miles became my number. I'd lace up my shoes, Chica would happily volunteer as my training partner, and off we'd go.

Was my hip happy about it?

Not particularly.

Did I listen?

Well...you've met me.

I figured if I kept working at it, eventually my body would get the memo.

We are going back to 100%. Let's go.

Except today, I learned something important.

Just Give It to Me Straight

I had physical therapy this morning, and it was a doozy.

We tried several new exercises, attempting once again to convince my hip flexor that it really does have a job.

My TFL, meanwhile, is that obnoxious coworker who keeps jumping in and saying:

“DON'T WORRY! I'LL DO IT!”

No. Thank. You.

We worked on stability. We worked on getting muscles to fire that don't particularly want to fire. And then came 30 minutes of dry needling with electrical stimulation.

Good times.

Afterward, I asked my physical therapist two questions.

And I told him I wanted the truth.

No fluff. No making me feel better. Just tell me.

First:

“I've been pushing hard to get my walking mileage back. Should I be doing that?”

His answer was pretty simple.

No.

When the hip starts hurting, head home.

Well, alrighty then.

Apparently there are no medals being handed out for dragging an angry hip through the last half mile.

Noted.

Then I asked the bigger question.

“Am I ever going to get back to 100%?”

He paused.

And I knew.

Well...Now I Know

Because of everything that happened during the infection and the surgery that followed, my hip isn't simply weak.

Parts of the muscles and tissue that once stabilized it aren't there anymore.

That's different.

My PT told me that if he could get me to 50%, he'd consider that an incredible win. Realistically, he thinks it may be closer to 25%.

Did my eyes fill with tears?

Yep.

Because I am a 100% kind of girl.

Actually, let's be truthful.

I'm probably a 112% kind of girl.

If you tell me something is difficult, I'll work harder.

If you tell me it's going to take six months, somewhere in my brain I'm thinking, Bet I can do it in four.

It's served me pretty darn well throughout my life.

But sometimes determination has to change shape.

And my first thought after hearing him was surprisingly simple:

Well...now I know.

And knowing matters.

Maybe 100% Isn't the Goal

I came home from PT sore as hell, grabbed my ice pack and planted myself down for a while.

And somewhere between the aching hip and the ice pack, something became very clear.

Maybe I've been measuring the wrong thing.

What if success isn't getting back to 100% of who I was before all of this happened?

What if success is discovering 100% of what I can do from here?

Because here's what I know.

I'm upright.

I can walk.

I can teach.

I can travel.

I can laugh.

I can create.

And I can still disappear into my studio and turn piles of fiber, fabric, thread and whatever other weird thing catches my eye into art.

That's a pretty darn good life.

Does my hip hurt every day?

Yep.

But pain doesn't get to be the most interesting thing about me.

I've got way too much other stuff going on.

The Finish Line Moved

I think this happens to all of us eventually.

We picture where we're going.

We make the plan.

We put our heads down and start moving toward it.

And then life says:

“Yeah...about that plan.”

Maybe it's our health.

A relationship.

A career.

A dream.

Getting older.

Or simply discovering that the life we thought we'd have isn't exactly the life sitting in front of us.

We can spend forever staring at the old finish line.

Or we can look around and ask:

Okay. What's possible from here?

Chica would like it noted that she has NOT agreed to the new mileage restrictions. 😂

I know which one I'm choosing.

And Now...Back to Work

So here I am.

Fresh from a brutal PT session.

Hip thoroughly pissed off.

Ice pack firmly attached.

And what am I thinking about?

Art in the Park this weekend.

I have prints to finish.

Little $25 fiber-art pieces to make.

A studio full of work waiting for me.

And apparently a blog to write.

Life hasn't stopped.

Neither have I.

I'm just learning that pushing forward doesn't always mean pushing harder.

Sometimes it means listening.

Sometimes it means adapting.

And sometimes it means having enough sense to turn around and go home when your hip starts yelling at you.

I'm working on that last one.

So maybe this is my newest version of No Rules, Just Art®:

There isn't one right way to live a full life, either.

Plans change.

Bodies change.

Finish lines move.

And we get to change with them.

Because I realized something today that I think I'm going to carry with me for a very long time:

I don't need 100% of my old body to live 100% of my life.

The finish line moved.

I didn't stop.

I just changed direction.

No Rules, Just Art®