Worth the Risk?

I hurt my knee on Sunday. I knew I was taking a risk; after all, I've twisted both knees several times before. 

The first was when I was a teenager trying to get the ball in “keep-away.” I was running and grabbing simultaneously when I felt a terrible twang. The rest of the evening, I had a friend with curly blond hair, similar to Harpo Marx's, hold my leg. I'm not sure he got the reference; however, I grew up under the influence of the Marx Brothers (plus The Three Stooges and Monty Python) and thought my spoof hilarious, despite the pain and stiffness in my knee.

Perhaps the worst injury came while playing football. I was in a game of two on two with some college buddies. I and my teammate just scored, so I did a celebratory Pete Townsend jump, but landed so badly, that everyone heard the ligaments in my knee SNAP! I had to be carried to my fourth-floor dorm room. Later I went to the ER, where the doc strapped on a full-leg brace, resulting in my muscles atrophying the next couple of weeks (no one suggested physical therapy). My left leg got really strong, though, climbing up four flights several times a day!

Later in life, I hurt my knee playing softball on my brother's co-ed team. I was even wearing a brace, but the lateral movement proved too much, and I went down. This time PT helped me recover quickly.

Since then, I've given up softball, pickup football games, downhill skiing, volleyball—all great loves of mine. It's been frustrating to be on the sidelines, but I feel compelled to let my knees dictate my activities.

Until this weekend. How could I say “no” to playing kick-ball with a bunch of 5^th, 6^th and 7^th graders? I mean I knew better, but my heart said, “Go for it!” And my injury has nothing to do with my competitive nature. I mean I HAD to plant my foot so I could be fully aligned and get maximum velocity to whip the ball at the youth-group leader's back to tag him out before he scored home. I went down so fast, I didn't even see if my shot made its mark.

Thankfully, this injury involves only muscles, not ligaments, so my husband, the chiropractor, tells me I'll be better in one week, not six. Great news!

As I convalesce, I realize that while it is truly frustrating and painful to have gotten hurt, I had so much fun with my son and our friends. It's similar to writing. The process itself is a pleasure for me, but putting my stories out into the publishing world often feels risky. It is truly frustrating and painful to get a rejection letter. Eventually, some editor will connect with one (or more) of my stories, and all the aggravation and hurt will have been worth it. 

As I told my son on Sunday, “No guts, no glory!” And for the record, the runner was OUT!