The last week of August, I woke up one morning with a kink on the right side my neck. You know, the kind you get when you sleep in a weird position and it feels kind of stiff for a day or two? It felt like that except it didn't go away.
After various home remedies, a Swedish massage, and a session of Naga (a Thai stretching technique) failed to rectify the situation over the next few weeks, I finally made an appointment with a doctor. By that time, the pain had become progressively more intense and the tightness had spread throughout the entire right side of my body. Did I mention that I was still going to boxing classes during this time because I’m my father’s daughter? He would go to the gym for a quick workout after a chemo session before going into the office and I can’t handle a little discomfort in my shoulder? Weak!
It took about 30 seconds to diagnose me with a strained muscle in my neck, which because of my stubbornness, I mean, commitment to engage in continued repetitive movements, had created a chain reaction of other muscles in my back, shoulder, and arm protesting in order to get my attention.
Muscle relaxers, pain relievers, and physical therapy...Oh My!
Was this my first official boxing injury because I’m such a hardcore badass athlete? Perhaps. Was this simply what happens when you're in your mid-40s and get some new pillows for your bed? Who can really say, but I was strongly advised to hang up my gloves until further notice.
Recovering from this injury is the most humbling thing I’ve done in quite a while. I’m noticing how vulnerable it feels to admit (to myself, to others) when I’m struggling and not able to function at 100%. I’m noticing how frustrating it is not to be able to do regular things with ease like give my kids bear hugs or sit on the bleachers at their games. I’m noticing how impatient I can be and how that is both an asset and a liability, depending on the situation. I’m noticing how much I take my health for granted and what a gift it is when everything is working as it should.
Perhaps the biggest lesson is that I’m noticing how discouraging it feels when progress looks like two steps forward and three steps back. Of course, I know from my work as a leadership coach that growth is never linear and frequently remind my clients of this reality, but it’s so darn easy to forget that when I'm the one going through something hard.
It’s been about two months since this all started and I’m thrilled to say that I’m finally feeling some relief. I'm grateful to the team of physical therapists, chiropractors, and pharmacists who have helped me to get to this point. I’m hoping to get cleared to return to boxing in the next week or two, but I’m already anxious that I’m going to be so out of shape from this hiatus that it’s going to be a long and bumpy road back. I guess I just have to keep reminding myself that progress often looks like two steps forward and three steps back and to appreciate that I can give my kids lots of bear hugs in the interim.
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