Wallow Much?

My thoughts are gathering, processing, and I find it hard to spit something out that isn't a contradictory in terms. After some good old fashioned wallowing and self-pity about my injury, I end up with the comforting thought that my life is so good that this is the worse thing that can happen. That's not bad, not bad at all. Yet, in my world, it's devastating at the same time.

There I was, hitting the shit out of the volleyball in the greenest version of Steamboat that I've ever seen, and I see it ever year on the second weekend in July at this annual tournament. All of the recent rainstorms have blessed Colorado with lush surroundings, and I visually took note of it. I was also enjoying playing doubles with my best friend Jennifer who I don't get to see much since she got married, moved south of Denver, and adopted a kid. Plus.... man, can that girl set. I had forgotten how nice it is to hit her sets. We even beat a couple of young Amazonian-tall women in matching outfits - not bad for a duo who's combined age is 87.

A couple of matches later, I went up for a hit and... there was no contact at the net, or slippery grass, or uneven ground... I just landed all wrong. Startled by the pain, I yelped and instinctively grabbed my leg, which was in two different alignments momentarily as the knee dislocated and then came back. Crumbling to the ground, my hockey season immediately fired through the synapse in one of those slo-mo movie moments. I instantly knew it was bad. I said, "I'm done." aloud to the players that rushed towards me.

Jenn, bless her safety rat heart, made a mad dash to the cooler and returned with a bag of ice in mere seconds. This is the girl I trusted my life with on Denali. This is who I spent 23 days tied to a rope with, who I trusted with my life and weathered two storms in a place where things could have gone very bad, and didn't. Irony was seeping out my pores as now she took care of me in a harmless park not far from home. Even in the moment of ligament-tearing pain, I knew somewhere deep down I was lucky. My boyfriend was also there and rushed over. What better timing can you ask for?

Don't think that I'm without bad attitude though, as I mentioned. I have had regular, self-centered fits all week long, especially now with the MRI results. I really did a number on my knee, tearing all three L's (ACL, LCL, MCL) and considerable other damage that's not even known for sure until I get knifed. Oh, I wallow alright. Because Sports is so much more than a hobby. It's my social life, my fitness program, my stress relief, my mental workout, my everything. Now, I won't be able to play hockey, climb mountains, or play volleyball for what, 5-6 months if I'm lucky?

Today, after clearing my calendar of everything I won't be able to do physically, I sat staring at all the new blank little squares and started to cry - I know it's not the end of the world. It's just the end of my world, for a while.