Redirect

So the knee pain was simple, easily-healed, no-reason-to-worry, run-of-the-mill bursitis.

I learned on Wikipedia that bursae are small sacs of synovial fluid in the body (gross!) and the ones that live under my left knee cap got inflamed when I tried to take up jogging.  Good news though, I'm all healed up already and I can try jogging again if I get fitted for proper shoes and buy expensive inserts.  Better than surgery.  Better than forever pain.  Better than a lot of things. 

So while I wait for room in our budget, another mountain I want to climb comes back in to my view finder.  That mountain is the memoir I started writing in November 2008.  When the topic comes up and I tell people I'm writing a memoir, the response is often a funny look, then a pause, then I fill in the awkward space with details, "It's about about my life as a hippie kid, and some about me as a mother, and a little bit of me getting married at 22, and maybe some pieces about me and my tribe of friends when we were teenagers."  My explanation brings head nods, then follow up questions are asked, and inevitably the polite, "Well I can't wait to read it when you're done."  Me too.

I know somehow that the book will get finished and it will get published.  I don't know how I know this since mostly I feel uncertain about anything that is out there for me in the future.  I don't know if tomorrow morning with the kids will be lovely or exhausting.  With they be in a good mood?  Will I?  Will the kids learn to swim this summer?  Will Henry finish high school or drop out like I did?

But I'm certain I will finish my first memoir.  After all, I've been training for a long time now.  Maybe I'll climb Mt. Hood and publish by my 40th birthday? 

Sidelined

Second run in to my second week of my new exercise endeavor and my left knee goes out.  After I limped up the hill and logged on to my computer, there was an obvious diagnosis.  Runner's Knee.  I'm not even an official runner for crying out loud and I have runner's knee already?  Three days since the hurt began, and it's worse today.  I limp around, move slow, look and feel like an old woman.

Today I ponder whether to schedule an acupuncture appointment.  Since it's not just going away like I would hope.  I also ponder what my next step will be.  My Saturday hike will not happen.  Walking around my neighborhood is out of the question.  I could probably swim, though I am allergic to chlorine and recoil at the thought of appearing in public in a bathing suit.  As there is much suffering in this world both near and far to me at the moment, I feel foolish for worrying about such things.  Really, my biggest problem is feeling self conscious in a bathing suit?  How shallow and trivial can I be?

But my deeper concern, the one that lives in my gut and makes me nauseous, is that being sidelined will be the first step towards abandoning my goal to climb Mt. Hood next spring.  One thing leads to another and I tumble down the rabbit hole and lose sight.  This is familiar territory for me, my numerous starts and stops, my list of goals never achieved.  And for reasons still unclear to me, there is a glowing ball of fear resting on my 40th birthday next April 23rd.  The fear whispers, pulses in my ears. 

If you don't meet this goal, if you fail yet again, if you let yourself down another time, you will simply languish and fade away. 

But since I'm not one to sink in to the muck too far, an idea comes to mind.  I know where I need to steer myself.  The ball of fear needs to knocked out of the park.  Crushed. 

I just Googled the question, "What is the opposite of fear?"  Answers, "Bravery, courage, fearlessness (of course), heroism, unconcern." 

So I need to be the hero who bravely conquers the fear.

Conquer the fears of fading away, of letting myself down, of tumbling down the rabbit hole, and wearing a bathing suit in public.