Today I feel slightly terrified. Speechless, emotionless, yet terrified nonetheless.
I have put out a brave face throughout my knee battle. I never once complained, carried on doing everything I could for as long as I could without a question or a murmur. When I had to stop massaging in April due to the pain, I didn’t complain. I put a positive spin on it. Yet inside I feel quite different. Many people said they didn’t know how I was managing to still work, in such a physical job (personal trainer). I have spent the last few years developing cunning adaptations to avoid things that cause me too much pain. Even something as simple as getting up off the floor had to be changed. I am so quiet and savvy about it, I bet no one noticed.
I even adapted squats and lunges so that I was still able to fake demo them at work.
Yesterday we drove to Cannibal bay in the Catlins. We reminisced about our last visit, when we had walked there from a campsite down the coast.
We walked here. That was back when you could actually walk
Said my husband. That was like a brick of realisation.
I used to ride my bike regularly, now I don’t, because the wind affects my ability to stabilise. This means I have lost all the motivation to keep cycling regularly because the pastime that I love is now associated with pain.
I used to go hiking regularly. Now I struggle to walk around town. I couldn’t even dream of walking the hump ridge track, which I did just a mere 4 years ago. Our whole lives used to be spent outside. Now I’m mostly stuck inside.
I stopped running 5-6 years back. I miss running. I miss it a lot. So much so I just don’t talk about it.
I try to stay positive but I actually don’t feel positive. I am a mere shadow of my former GB level fit athletic self. I feel old before my time. I am in constant pain. My whole life revolves around what the pain will allow me to do today.
I smile, I shrug it off, but inside I’m crying. Always crying.