Just Jumping Rope. Gravity Wins.

What happened? You fell down.

There I am, getting my ass to the gym, trying to stay somewhat healthy, and even improve. Yea me! I was feeling great warming up with my new rope and . . . someone kicked me from behind.

Brian gave me a speed rope for Christmas. Not sure how other wives might feel about that, but, I loved it. I finally remembered to cut it off the cardboard and take in to workout on Wednesday. On Thursday, Brian was at the gym too and watching me jump rope, even commenting on how well it was going. My gym mates are really good at jumping rope. Some look like they are effortlessly dancing, often to a song only in their head.

I was watching them and decided to give it a try. I’m decent at jumping rope, I just can’t do it very long before I get hung up. But I keep trying, it’s all about keeping the heart rate up. Sometimes, I don’t even use the rope, I just jump around and swing my arms. No one cares.

No sooner did I start trying to jump “fancy” I got hit in the back of my left leg. It happened so damn fast I didn’t even realize I was on the gym floor, until I was there. One of our trainers, John, who was starting class in 2 minutes, looked down at me. I’m not sure if he recognized my confusion. I looked behind me, certain someone had accidentally kicked me, or I had crashed into equipment.

There was nothing behind me. Not a fucking thing I could have tripped over, other then my ego from thinking I could jump rope like the twenty-some-year-old, next to me. I actually asked what happened and both John and Brian, who was behind me, said it looked like I rolled my ankle. That does make more sense.

I tried to stand up and I couldn’t. I moaned and felt my stomach lurch. Oh Lord, please don’t let me barf on the gym floor. That would be horribly embarrassing. The guys tried to help me stand up and I felt my world start to close in and get dark. My stomach began to roll and I realized the reality of throwing up AND passing out on the gym floor. I HAD to get out of there.

John and Brian picked me up and carried me to the door. People were coming in as I was being carried out. I wish I could have said, “wait till you see the other guy.”

I didn’t go to urgent care until Friday afternoon after my Facebook friends insisted I needed to see a doctor. And, hey, they were right. The doctor said I severed my Achilles tendon and the end is probably up in my calf. I told him I was going to hope it’s not completely severed. He smile and responded, “you do that.”

Tuesday afternoon is MRI day. I’ve been on the couch for 2 days. I’m probably going to be immobile for weeks and then have months of recovery. That is going to suck.

I have never had to slow down like this before. I think about my mom and how she is chair bound, for probably LIFE. She will most likely never walk, and I will most likely, will have a full recovery. I’m going to suck it up and make the most of it with 3 goals.

  1. Don’t be down in spirit.
  2. Blog about anything. (Someone I don’t know once referred to my blog as a “Mommy Blog and train wreck I can’t stop reading”. Sounds accurate and thank you.)
  3. Follow doctor’s orders.

One or more of these may be difficult.

~P.

Go ahead...take a swing. I'll duck and listen.

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