A year ago this month I broke my foot rushing out the front door of a treehouse in Oregon. Having never really been forced to stop before, I thought my life was over as I knew it. Cue backwards hand on forehead and a litany of “woe as meees.” My mother will happily vouch for my pitiful behavior.
This picture was taken about a week after the step attacked me. I remember thinking, “It looks SO much better! It must be healing!” I did not yet know there was going to be an intimate relationship with a boot in my future.
Merry Christmas I got you a Robo Leg!
But. I’m happy to report my life did not, in fact, end and here I am a year later movin’ and shufflin’ better than ever. I’m even training to run a Tough Mudder in October (12 miles + 20-some military obstacles including – but not limited to – electric wires, 12 foot walls, fire pits and something called the Arctic Enema. Hm).
Perspective is freakin’ amazing. I *knew* I was not down for the count, but damn if it doesn’t feel like that when something like walking is taken away from you. I was an inconsolable whiny mess with zero patience: Reminder Here.
There is no grand life philosophy in this post. I just wanted to write my thoughts out on e-paper to work through my “wow, it’s been a whole year” realization. Time is Neosporin and hindsight is so telling and powerful it’s a wonder we don’t move forward in life walking backward to keep an eye on things. Of course then we might fall out of treehouse and break something. And that would be bad.