Monday, August 20, 2012

Seven Month Hump


It’s been almost two months since my last entry.  Back then, I couldn’t decide if I was going to make that post my last one, or if I was going to continue writing.  Well since, I’m yet to start a new blog, I might as well keep going here.

I meant to write a blog post at my six month “anniversary,” but to be honest, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, and there really wasn’t a lot developing in terms of my knee, gymnastics, my “comeback,” etc.  But today’s special too.  Today I am seven months post surgery.  And I could’ve never imagined this is where I would be today.

Ever since I called my coach and emailed my teammates, I felt like I’d been handling the change pretty well.  I felt confident I made the right decision, and I felt ready for whatever else I would be doing in life.  Not to mention, my knee was almost constantly hurting, so it seemed like I made the obvious and right decision.

But these last few days have been different.  I’ve been able to start working out more, and for some reason, that’s what’s making the difference.  All summer my knee was hurting. It was so hard for me to convince myself to work out, because simply the thought of exercise, made my knee hurt more. 

And of course, now that I’m working out more, my knee is hurting less.  It’s getting stronger, but that’s almost more disappointing than the pain.  If I would’ve tried and fought harder, would my situation be different now?   I told myself that no matter what, my inability to continue gymnastics wasn’t because I didn’t try hard enough, and now I’m just struggling to convince myself that that is still true.  Maybe it’s because the Olympics are over, and I’m really starting to miss my teammates back at Davis, but I really miss gymnastics.  A lot.  I don’t think I regret the decision, because there’s still a high change of me reinjuring my knee, or worse, getting healthy and just not being good enough.

Up until recently, I thought I was doing so well.  Handling the whole situation with my head held high, and looking at the bright side of it all.  But every once in awhile, I just catch glimpses of what I used to have, and how it used to make me feel.   I’m having a hard time figuring out what I’m going to do next.  After all, it’s who I was, and right now, I not only feel like I can’t get away from it, I also can’t seem to move on.

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