The Brace Cabinet
So, despite fairly consistent daily body movement, I’ve only had two major injuries in the last thirty years: pregnancy #1 and pregnancy #2. Let no one tell you that pregnancy isn’t an injury. You’re welcome to send them my way and I will provide them with a persuasive essay only containing two dozen curse words.
Then I moved here where the following are seasonally available: skiing (alpine, Nordic, and touring), biking (road, gravel, or mountain), running (road or trail), paddling (SUP, kayak or raft), hiking, snowshoeing, climbing, and many more I have yet to discover. I made lists and set goals and was thrilled about getting going on all this business. Then, I got hurt.
Oh, you’re thinking, just go do some physical therapy and you’ll be fine. I thought the same. Turns out this particular issue is one that hangs on.
So I tried doing some different sports, anything to get me moving. I had already given up on the races I’d signed up for, the hikes I put on my top 10 list, the ultramarathon I had as a big-rocks goal.
But then I sprained my ankle walking (yes, folks, walking) across the springfloor at the local action sports center. There are ten thousand ways to injure yourself doing unbelievably cool acrobatics with trampolines, skateboards, bicycles, scooters, snowboards, skis, and more but I was unable to complete the task of merely transporting myself across this floor in a very typical fashion.
Ok, heal for a few weeks, I said to myself. In the meantime, let’s try rollerblading. I’ll go slow, it will be a vague kind of cardio. What happened on the third lap? The one that I said to my friend ohh – I want to do another? Inability to brake meant a sprained wrist.
Ok, I said to myself. Maybe run a little? Ankle should be ok by now? Well, that worked out for at least two weeks. The chronic injury still bothering me, I started to swim. How the f*$(&% could I injure myself swimming? I thought. And then took it back because the universe did not need to be taunted with such questions. It might clap back in a way I was uninterested in discovering.
Then it was ski season. I was thrilled for nordic, to be out in the quiet in the snow and working my heart. But, turns out (after five tries, each of which I was convinced would be better than the last) it aggravated the longstanding injury. So that was out for the season.
OK, so let’s ski alpine, I thought. Not cardio but at least it’s outside and you get really damn cold which makes you feel like you did something. So I go out several times a week and take some lessons and they said hey, the way you’re doing this, you’re going to injure yourself (No shit, I snorted). You need new equipment.
So I get new equipment. And what happens? Bingo. I fall going off a jump (which is a really dumb thing to do when you’re forty four years old) and twist my knee.
OK, let’s take two weeks off skiing. You still have a month or so of the season left. But no running or anything else in the meantime.
So there I sat with an icepack around my knee secured by an ace bandage I haven’t taken off the counter since I moved here. I am also the proud owner of a brace for every visible body part. Wrist guards for mountain biking? Check. Knee brace for skiing? Yep. Ankle brace for whatever the hell I’ll do to that next? Uh-huh. Back brace for general oldness? Also yes. Elbow pads for falling of any device that moves me forward? Most definitely.
I think I’ll get a china cabinet but instead of grandma’s crystal, I’ll display all the protective devices. I won’t need to worry about dusting them because I’m certain they’ll be used enough not to gather any. I’ll open its glass doors before departing on the next adventure and then put back the brace in its precise spot for next time.
I’m very, very lucky to be able to do all these activities. But residence in this state should come with advice to invest in medical device companies, yeah?
Inspired by events in Kamas, Utah
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