I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with water skiing. I love it because it’s hard and I learned to do it. I hate it because it scares the crap out of me. However, there is a certain exhilaration in skimming across the water on a hunk of fiberglass, looking at the mountainous wake and saying out loud to myself, “no guts, no glory.” When I fall, I forget to breathe out—I breathe in and generally come up gasping and choking.
I should have known I’d have a little bit of trouble. Three pins in each of my recently repaired feet, fused joints in a couple of toes, and some extra weight made it difficult to even get the skis on, but we did—I say “we” because it was a group effort. The rope came along behind me and I said “hit it,” and I didn’t get up. I said “hit it” at least seven more times and then I heard and felt the hamstring go. I wasn’t sure if I really was hurt badly, but I knew it would be wise to quit. Did you know that cool water camouflages pain? Getting the ski off my left foot and getting back into the boat—once again a group effort.
So . . . today my butt and leg hurt. I walk like I’m sauntering, but with great concentration. I’m using the handicapped bathroom stall at work. I’ll never get out of the recliner alone. Am I upset? Heck no! I could be depressed and discouraged, but at least I tried. My dusty O’Brien ski has been washed clean in Elk Lake and it’s in the back of my car. I’m going to try to use it again . . . but not today.
Instead of feeling old, I feel adventuresome. An ice pack and some Aleve are helping me cope with the irritation. (Incidentally, the ice pack leaked on to my chair, so please don’t believe any rumors of my incontinence that I’m sure may be already out there.) This pain will either go away or will remind me that I’m actually pretty gutsy.
I’d like to propose a toast to myself on this day! Are you with me? I have so many things to celebrate! So as I enter this decade, I’m hanging on and saying, “Let’s hit it!”
