The Other Hand

The wrist

(image courtesy of yesterday)

Yesterday I thought I broke my wrist.

All the signs were there:

The fall.

The loud crack/pop sound.

The pain.

The sweating and dizziness.

The embarrassment.

Today, I just have a sprain.

For the next few days I will be wearing a wrist brace. The brace keeps the wrist from moving and/or causing interesting pain.

As I went about my daily routine tasks this morning, I couldn’t help but notice the role my left hand plays in life. I am right-handed. So therefore, the right hand must be the more important hand, right? If you ask me, I would say with pride, “right-handed” as if it was some badge of honor.

But there is the other hand. The left hand.

Little did I know that while right hand was taking all the credit, left hand was doing a bulk of the hard work. Carrying more weight, steering the car, holding the [plate, coffee carafe, cereal bowl, milk carton and everything else], pulling out chairs, typing on the that side of the keyboard, holding my phone, and the list goes on.

I began to wonder if this hand view carries over to our world view.

There are a lot of right hands out there, beaming with pride at their role and what they can accomplish.

But there are also left hands. Who support, carry and even direct the outcomes, but with a little less flair, and perhaps in the second seat.

Maybe this injury will help recalibrate the hierarchy of hands that seems to exist, and I will begin to see them as more equal partners on the same team.

Running into our 80’s

I am a runner.

Sometimes my narrator tries to convince me that I am someone who used to run, or someone who just runs now and then.

Sometimes when I tell other people I run, they try to convince me that running will ruin my knees.

Sometimes I wonder if I will injure myself again.

Sometimes I think about giving up, and slowing down.

Sometimes fear creeps in.


Maybe it is each and every choice to run that makes me a runner.

Maybe my voice can override those other voices.

Maybe it is lack of activity that also ruins knees.

Maybe I could listen to the orthopedic doctor who said I would be running into my 80’s with the right plan.

Maybe my miles will decrease, but my activity will remain.

Maybe learning to dance with fear is better in the long run.

Where have you been convinced that you should give up, slow down, and stop “running”?

Where has the fear or the voices told you that it is too late?

Perhaps we could all be running into our 80’s.

Perhaps you could be [insert your activity, goal, or dream here] into your 80’s.

After Injury

As a follow-up to my the post “I am good as possible” it seemed important to share what can happen when we take that risk, try something new, and stretch ourselves.

My Right Knee

(Image Courtesy of My X-Ray, My Youngest Daughter and a Ski Jump)

Injury. It happens to all of us.

In this case, it happened to my right knee. While skiing/trying to catch up with my youngest daughter, I followed her over a jump. Regret arrived almost as quickly as the decision was made, only to be overshadowed by intense pain.

Obviously, it was not a great decision. That split second resulted in numerous bags of ice, pain relievers, doctors visits, x-rays, and some physical therapy.

But, we all sustain injury. Injury may be physical, emotional, or relational. Injury can happen at home, at work, on the slopes, or just about anywhere.

Injury will happen.

Some injury can be prevented, but not all.

During injury, we have to manage the pain, rest, and rebuild.

The choices we make after injury may be the most important.

We may choose to avoid.

We may choose to fear.

We may choose to stop trying.

We may choose to try again, but perhaps with a little more caution/wisdom.

The decisions we make after injury determine if our world becomes a smaller place, with less risk, less adventure.

Keeping our world big after injury is its own risk.

As my leg healed and the pain left, I kept anticipating that the pain would return. My steps were more cautious, and the memory of the pain was almost as real as when it actually hurt.

The other night was my first time chaperoning without skiing. I was not ready to put on those skis, so I modified my role. I encouraged the kids. I made sure they all knew where they were going, and cheered them on.

I have decided to ski next week. I am making the choice to keep my world big, despite the fear and memory of the pain, and possibility of another injury.

Where has injury impacted you?

What choices can you make after injury?

To continue in my role from the other night…

Don’t give up.

You can do it.

Keep your world big.

Get back up.

Get back on those skis.