Before you start making judgmental thoughts and assume that I sat on a couch and ate junk food for an entire year, let me first clarify. I’m sure everyone knows the story of my fiasco of a leg (if you haven’t, then this is probably the first article of mine you’ve ever read, so take a peek at literally any of my articles). Long story short, three surgeries throughout the past year, a boatload of pain, several doctors and physical therapy appointments, and it still isn’t better.
When I first had my accident, it was a success if I could sit up to the edge of the bed. Slowly, I could do more things like walk to the bathroom (with crutches, of course). It took me months to sleep on my side or to even walk from a car into the store.
For the first few months after my accident, exercising was the last thing on my mind. I was exhausted after walking across a parking lot, and I knew I would really struggle if I even tried to go to a gym. At physical therapy, I started to do my rehab in a pool. I would do stretches and I could walk a little on an underwater treadmill. I don’t really count this as exercise, though because when you’re underwater, you have no body weight, so it feels like walking on air.
But as more time went on, I started to feel restless. I wanted to get up and go on a run, I wanted to punch something, I wanted to sweat. I was in so much pain that the most I could do was walk around a grocery store on crutches before I had to sit down. My friends invited me to go shopping with them, to go to the beach, but I couldn’t do anything.
When I finally built up enough strength, I started to go swimming. I started off doing a few laps, but even then I had lost my breath and had to stop. Swimming was my saving grace during that year. It was the only exercise I could do that didn’t make my leg cramp and ache, and I could get my heart rate up doing it. I would finish the swim with my exercises, and I felt so incredibly happy afterwards. When the pain started to get bad again, I found myself becoming more and more miserable, and I couldn’t help thinking if it was because I couldn’t go release endorphins and exercise.
It’s frustrating feeling like I have to start completely over. I used to pride myself in being, for the most part, physically fit. I didn’t go to the gym every day, but I enjoyed the freedom of going on a run when I felt like it, instead of feeling trapped inside a disabled body. I feel like I have lost a lot of muscle, even picking up my backpack is difficult for me, when I used to be pretty strong. Although I am not yet healed, I am finding myself getting stronger every day and I am finding little ways to remind myself to be happy. All I know is that when my leg is back, I don't think I'll ever stop exercising.
