Back In Shape

It happened so fast.

There wasn't even a split second to turn my body or get my hands underneath me to break the fall. Suddenly I was flat on my back, and the pain (or maybe it was the force of the impact - or a little of both) took my breath away. I tried to stand up right away, but couldn't, so I was doubled over trying to get a few seconds to collect myself. The first thought that occurred to me was how I was going to get everybody home. I had driven three hours from my home to take my boys and a friend of my older son's to the snow. I was with my younger son, my six year old, in the kids section of a South Lake Tahoe ski resort when I tried to step down from a small, icy snow embankment where he was playing. Both my feet slipped out in front of me on the hard-packed ice and I came down full-force directly on my upper spine. Honestly, it felt like someone had hit me vertically between my shoulder blades with a baseball bat. When an attendant who had witnessed the fall (and, I'm sure, heard whatever bizarre but clearly distressed sounds that came out of me) rushed over to ask if I needed help, I couldn't even answer him right away. I was barely aware of my immediate surroundings (except my equally concerned little boy's voice which, reassuringly, verified his presence and proximity for me) and I felt a little bit sick to my stomach.

When I caught my breath and was able to straighten up, the next thing that ran through my mind was the very real possibility that I had damaged my back seriously. The pain was starting to ebb now, but even my chest hurt when I took a deep breath. And any bouncing or hard stepping felt like someone grinding their heel directly into the point of impact. As the next few hours unfolded, I was gradually, mercifully, a bit more comfortable.

This happened yesterday at about 10:30AM.

Today I can still feel some stiffness in my upper back, especially when I pull my chin down or look up toward the ceiling (nothing that great to look at up there anyway!) But it's not much different than if I had fallen asleep in bed reading with my head against the headboard and my chin against my chest. Stiff? Yes. Painful? A little bit. Serious? Doubtful.

Do I consider myself lucky? Damn straight. It could easily have been my head that hit first. But while I'm grateful that the fall wasn't more serious, I'm equally appreciative of my body's ability to heal itself - it's resiliency. And that's where all the hard work I've done over the years keeping myself in shape has paid off in quiet, but tremendously important ways. Sure, I'm much happier with the way my body looks than I would otherwise be in my mid-forties. In fact, My body looks better than it has at any point in my life. But who cares, really? I'm able to run down the block with my three year old daughter piggy back to pick up my son from school. Then we swing on the monkey bars and jump down from the play structure. Most of my contemporaries (and many more than ten years my junior) are nursing at least one long-term progressive injury, some moderately limiting condition or at the very least, possess a mere fraction of the strength and stamina they used to enjoy.

It doesn't have to be that way. Do you want it to be different? It's hard, but incredibly satisfying work - this physical fitness stuff. And you have to eat what your body needs, not just what your tongue feels like tasting all the time. But the rewards are priceless.

Think about it. Would you like your body to be better to you? It feels the same about you, and wants to make your wish come true.

You know the next step.