July 2010
I have always felt that ‘blazing my own trail’ was the correct path for me. It is something that has often put me in, “interesting” positions.
This week closed as the first, truly good week, that I can recall in a very long time. I was able to get some trivial details taken care, of course more of my books arrived, I managed to sneak a very therapeutic road-trip, and to close out the week 90 minutes of exhausting time on the ice.
In other news, I finally saw a doctor who actually listened to what I had to say about these chronic tears and pulls in my legs. As such I will not have to fork over money out of my own pocket. It was agreed that ‘images, namely MRI, ought to be done to investigate what is going on with my calve muscles. Finally…
So with that information, it was enough to jerk me out of the ‘feel sorry for myself - hopeless’ mode. Friday I took my goalie gear to the local car wash. That certainly turned the heads who were there. 5$ later, my pads were all dripping wet. Friday was my 500 mile road-trip, and Saturday night, I was in the locker room putting the pads on.
Did I mention I could barely skate off the ice? I mean barely. In a strange way I guess it was nostalgic, going back to a Saturday night many years ago. I had just finished help ‘push’ most of my unit on planes to Baghdad. I had about 18 hours until I was getting on the plane myself, one of the last from our unit. It happened to be Saturday night, so I packed up my pads and drove to the rink. After 2 hours I could barely walk. It was quite a workout. When the rink was locked up at almost midnight I drove to the grocery store to get some food to help with my recovery. After all, the next morning I was going to be loading a plane, again, and going to war.
What was different about leaving for Iraq, I honestly did not think I was coming back. So in the grand scheme of things, that slim chance to play hockey one last time - I considered it was a treat from the gods. I made as much use of the opportunity as I could.
So as I lifted my sweaty goalie gear into the car Saturday night, a dark and nearly empty parking lot at the rink; it reminded me of that July Saturday night so many years ago. Nearly midnight, both times, I went straight for Gatorade and a pile of tacos to help push my body’s recovery. A few bruises and sore today, but it was worth it.
Here’s to hoping there are more Saturday nights filled with this kind of memory. The running won’t start until there is a better idea of the medical implications - answers to the cause of the mysterious problems. But in the meantime, it does seem that the legs can handle some moderate work, so this week, that work will begin again.
