Stop Whining

ImageI’m trying, Maggie Smith. I’m trying to stop whining so hard my face hurts. Things are just not working out how they should, however, and sometimes I just fail.

Yesterday I got an email from the wonderful luthier who is repairing my cello. It will not be done at the end of January as she first hoped. It will not be done at the end of February. It will be ready at the end of March, according to the newest guestimation.

I’m not upset with her. I am the one who made splinters out of my 1860 Caussin beauty. I am just frustrated because I have solo performances coming up and Caussin’s replacement is just not cutting it. It’s kind of like someone handing the top-notch triathlete Andy Potts my bike and expecting him to go out and compete as usual. Andy Potts is amazingly strong and would kick my ass on a one-speed, but he would not perform the way HE wants to on my bike. Just as I do not sound the way I am accustomed to in spite of lots of cajoling on this loaner.

There are solutions. I may call upon a friend to lend me his very nice second cello. I just don’t like feeling like I owe someone something.


Iowa weather is nuts.

Then there is the weather in Iowa. Completely manic. Yes, I got all excited today and ran outside even though it was drizzly. I ran in a t-shirt!! But look what is on its way tonight. 2-4 inches of snow. Cold. Winter is back. No more running outside; it’s back to the dreadmill again.

I know. STOP WHINING. Get over it, you chose to live in the midwest, sugar. You left sunny Southern France, amazing wine and year-round men with their shirts open and big gold chains to live in the land of duck boots and down coats. Vive Land’s End!

Finally, the Ankle is being a pain. Literally. Just when it was getting so much better! I am in my last week of therapy, doing iontophoresis. I’ve been able to increase my workouts, and even did a brick last week (2 mile run, 40 mins bike) and a fun 60 mile bike ride on Expresso Sunday at a moderate pace (between 15-22, around 16 average). 

But yesterday in therapy I got the only gal available to do my Iontophoresis. She was young, just done with her undergrad, and very gung ho. She also had 2 volunteers trailing her, and that might have been the clincher. Usually at this point (a year out from my surgery) I just go in, give a report on pain and mobility/flexibility, reassure them that I’m still doing my stretches and maybe show those or get some new tips. This gal got me on the dreadmill to warm up. 10 mins. Then she decided I should be trying a green band (more resistance) instead of a red one. She had me do my strengthening exercises over and over again, instead of the usual number of reps. She dutifully explained all of this to the volunteers.

I’m sure this was all by the book, but she didn’t really know much about me or my situation. She wasn’t the official physical therapist. I am not sure she should have been even dictating new exercises. But since I am a good patient and didn’t want to question her in front of the the Volunteers (future PT students), I played along. I think I overdid it as I had some discomfort in the day. That can resort from stretching a lot, so I just downplayed it.

I am embarrassed to say that I cried during my run today. I had to stop and walk at several points because of sharp pain, and made myself walk the last half mile. I was so mad that I cried. I didn’t cry from the pain, but from my hurt pride. Ouch.

That’s a major out-loud whine. Why do I care? Why do I train? I am very competitive with myself. I hate not improving my own times. I don’t want to run 11 or 12 minute miles. I know I need to just thank my therapists and surgeon that I’m running, period. But it is hard. Very hard. It’s been a long, slow recovery.

But I will stop whining. No more angry tears. I need to get in the pool more. Impact is what is irritating my ankle more than anything. Cello, ankle and my pride will mend. All in good time.


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