Healing

It’s a corny John Lennon quote: “Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans,” but it’s true: I had in mind to get to the Ashtanga studio every single day this Christmas break and work really seriously on getting back into the second series, but then, in the bud-buttered haze two weeks ago, life happened when I slipped on gale-soaked steps in the woods, bruising the back of my ribs so badly that for a couple of days I couldn’t even bend over, much less try to put my legs behind my neck; consequently, for a fortnight, I’ve been gingerly going through my practice, gradually adding poses and deepening stretches in the ones I’ve been able to do.

Today, for the first time since my accident, I was able to do the jump-through vinyasa in the sitting postures. It still hurts to put weight on my right side, but now it’s down to a dull ache rather than a sharp knife-like twinge.

I still can’t do strong twists to the left and rolling backwards in chakrasana is out of the question, but I am surprised at how much better I’m feeling than in the days immediately following my fall.

The human body is an amazing piece of work in that regard; I wish my bikes could heal themselves so reliably. But whenever I try to fix a squeak or clunk by letting it be for a couple weeks, it just gets worse.

I’m sure I’m still in for some frustration in the coming weeks as the last bit of pain resists improvement. That, though, will be a revolution of rising expectations. Two weeks ago if you told me I’d feel as good as I do already in half a month, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Last time I seriously sprained my wrist, it took six weeks to get back to baseline; that’s what I’m planning on here, as long as life doesn’t happen in the meantime.