In spite of my lack of ability to practice karate in earnest, I still teach class and do everything I can that doesn't cause pain or stress on my hip. Unfortunately, that doesn't amount to very much activity. I am continually frustrated by this, of course, and it's hard for me to stop myself from trying to do various things that I probably really shouldn't. It's especially difficult when I'm the lead instructor in a class. In that role, normally I would spend much of the class demonstrating stretches and various techniques. In my current circumstances, I have to fake a lot of stuff and not do even more, which is tough when you need to model something for a 6-year-old student. Consequently, I often end up doing more than I probably should. Such was the case on Monday. I made the mistake of saying something to the effect of, "I'm a little sore tonight." One of our students looked at me and said, "I wonder why?" Lesson number one.
I spend some of my time in physical therapy (and at home) working with resistance bands. These are pretty much overgrown elastic bands that provide various levels of resistance. The color of the band tells you how much resistance it offers:
yellow is the lowest, then red, green, blue, and black. There are two exercises I can perform with a red band, and one on which I can only manage to use a yellow one. While working with my therapist the other day, we were both pleased to find that I was able to perform my yellow band exercise without pain. Feeling rather proud of myself, I smiled and said, "Gee--this'll be a red band in no time!" She looked askance, mustered up her best semi-positive-yet-totally-honest look and said, "Don't count on it." Lesson number two.I was at the gym this morning for a full-routine day: 20 minutes of biking, a full upper body weight workout, PT exercises, and my second attempt at leg lifts and hamstring curls (both without extra weight on the machine). By the time I got to the last few minutes of my workout, I was done. My knee and IT band were cranky even when I was biking, and my hip was exhausted (which is sort of a good sign, since it means I'm using the right muscles). I ran into a friend who asked how my hip was doing, and I expressed some of my frustration at not being able to do things that used to be easy. "I have kind of a long way to go," I said. "Well, of course you do," she replied, with a big smile on her face. It was as though she understood that people who have surgery generally have a long way to go. Lesson number three.
So we return to the burning question with which we started: how many lessons is it going to take before I learn the Big Lesson? I'd like to believe the Wise Old Owl, but I'm more inclined to think that the world will never know.
Posts
