When I was a kid, we had horses, and of course, if we got bucked off a horse, the other cowboys (my dad and grandpa) always admonished us to “get back on!” The implication being that if we did not immediately get back on, the inclination to get back on would diminish, replaced by fear of the horse, fear of getting bucked off again.
Of course, we’d get back on and then get bucked off again.
Finally, I stopped riding horses.
I did not enjoy bouncing uncontrollably atop a very large and unpredictable animal.
I did not enjoy falling off.
I did not want to get back on.
I recently had to take some time off from running to allow the tendonitis in my calf to heal. I’ve grown to love running these past six months–the fitness, the challenge, the endorphins. So, it was kind of like getting bucked off the horse: painful and unexpected. The doctor recommended I rest and ice the calf for three weeks. For the first two weeks, all I wanted to do was run, but I heeded the doc’s advice and instead I iced that calf and reminded myself that I did not want to do any permanent damage. I wanted to be able to get back on the horse eventually, so I waited.
The third week went by practically unnoticed. I did not miss running and the few times the little woman asked me if I wanted to join her on a run, I declined, content to soak up the rays on the deck, beer in hand, happy to work on my writing instead. I’ll get back to it, I told myself, eventually. But would I?
In January, after six hard months at Bellingham Extreme Fitness, I got horribly sick one night and ended up missing a week of work, and thus a week of workouts. I had to go back to work after a week, but I still didn’t feel 100%, so I took it easy and didn’t go back to XFit. Before I knew it, three weeks had gone by and I still hadn’t gone back to work out. I finally mustered up my resolve and willpower, and got off my ass and went to work out, finally. But as I drove up, the place was dark, and as my luck would have it, closed for the day due to an emergency. I’ve not been back. Falling out of the saddle can be that easy, and this cowgirl knows that if she doesn’t get right back on, she may never get back on at all.
So tonight, more than midway through week four of healing my tendon, I finally saddled up and got back out there, and I didn’t do too badly, either. The calf feels good. Strong. This cowgirl is ready to ride!