I haven't run all week. Why? Because I've become a really bad waterskier.
Sunday was my annual "let's prove I can still waterski" day. For many years, I used to ski every chance I could get. But, for the past 6 or 7 years, I've pretty much made it a once per summer event. I'm not sure how that happened. But, the result is that I've actually become pretty bad at it. I'm fine (well, competent) on the left side of the wake. As soon as I cross over to the right side, though, I get frazzled. I've completely lost my confidence on that side of the wake. When I'm out there, all I can think about is how I'm ever going to cross back over to the left side.
Sure enough, on Sunday afternoon, there I was. I'd popped right up, dropped a ski, and moved to the left side. After a short while, I began to signal to Kim to make a right-hand turn so that I could stay on the left side as we circled back around. That didn't work. She was looking ahead at where she was going, not behind her to take directions from me. Soon enough, she began her left hand turn. I groaned and crossed over the wake to the right.
As we completed the turn, I knew I was going to have to pass over the bumps the boat had created before Kim began her turn. In 25 years of skiing, that had never been a problem for me. You just need to bend your knees a bit, stay back on your ski, and go with the rolls of the water. It's not that hard. But, that was before I'd developed this complete inability to ski on the right side of the wake. It was too late now. I was stuck. I hit the first roll, started to lose my balance and, before I knew it, I was airborne.
I've fallen before while skiing but it had been a while. I can't remember ever having a real bad fall. This time, though, I came down hard on my left side. Five days later, my ribs still hurt. I can't sleep on my side (which pretty much means I can't sleep), it hurts to get up out of a chair and, worst of all, I can't run. I tried on Monday and took about three steps. I tried again Wednesday and quit after 50 yards. After a couple days of inactivity, I've convinced myself that I've lost all my muscle tone and have added at least an inch around my midsection. I know that's not true but, when I look in the mirror, that's what I see. So, yesterday, I decided to start walking. As long as I don't walk too fast and don't take any real deep breaths, I'm fine.
This morning, I headed out at 5:20AM. My ribs were aching but I refused to have another day of no physical activity. I headed down the driveway and then got an idea. Our street is lined with sycamore trees. Last year, we had them all de-limbed up to 8 feet as they'd started to look like bushes on stilts. This spring, most of the trees had started to send off new branch shoots from where the limbs had been removed last fall. It was driving me crazy to see that. If I was going to have to resort to walking on the street, I might as well make it productive. So, I headed back up the driveway to my trusty shed, grabbed my smallest set of pruning shears and headed out for my walk.
Thirty-five minutes later, I was back home. For the first time all week, I felt good. No, my ribs still hurt. But, I'd pruned every single one of those darn trees. A couple times, I found myself looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. Technically, I wasn't doing anything wrong but I really didn't want to answer any questions from any neighbors.
I think I made it through my job unseen. But, I'm sure there will be some quizzical looks this morning as people head out to work and see all those little piles of sycamore branches in their front yards. All I can say is "You're welcome."