Yard Sail

Last Thursday I was coming out of my house with my arms full, lugging a suitcase behind me.  It was early so it was still dark.  It was raining.  Two steps out my front door, my shoe caught a divet on the concrete of the top step of my front porch.  I did nothing short of a backflip.  Ok, maybe it was a flop with a half twist.  I'm not exactly sure, but I'm glad there is no chance of it ending up on You Tube. 

I felt my ankle bend.  I mean really twist, as I was going down.  (If you imagine a slow motion, horrified fall, you probably get the idea.)  I ended up flat on my back on my wet leaf-laden lawn staring up at two rather stunned teens, mouths agape.

The fall hurt.  My knee hurt, my ankle hurt, my hip hurt.  As I was laying there trying to assess the damage and destruction to my middle-aged body, shooing my children as they asked if I was alright, I thought, "Oh gawd, this is bad.  This is really bad.  I really wiped out.  This may involve torn ligaments, maybe broken bones.  Concussion?" 

Then something really unexpected happened.  I got up.  I stood up.  I brushed wet leaves off of my pants and pulled a twig out of my hair.  I felt sore, but okay.  I put weight on my ankle and walked around on it.  It was fine.  Minimal pain.

Four years ago, that fall would have put me in the hospital, I'm certain of it.  Sometimes when I'm frustrated that I still haven't figured out everything I need to figure out to get to my goal and put the weight behind me, I'm reminded that I've come a long way.  There is no shortage of evidence that the distance I've traveled has already dramatically changed my life for the better.

Exercise has made my body stronger and more resilient.  Losing well over one hundred pounds has reduced so many risks of injury and health problems.  Life is better.  It made me feel grateful to realize this. 

I was not terribly grateful while searching with the kids for my car keys, which flew out of my hand and into an unraked lawn full of wet leaves, however.