I would like to think of myself as someone who will age gracefully.
I have had wrinkles for years (yes years. Some people tell me they are simply ‘laugh lines’ but that’s just a nicer way of putting it). It’s just one of those things that everyone has to deal with as they age- no one is immune. I think I’m doing a pretty good job. I certainly don’t freak out about them too much, however, I do wonder what I will look like when I am 40… that is, if I make it that far.
I have demanded a lot from my body in the past. A varsity athlete, I also participated in some fairly rough sports in college; there was lacrosse, and, of course, roller derby.
Roller derby was what made me rethink my immortality- notably, the famed posterior cruciate ligament tear of ’07. I was under the impression that my body would be eternally resilient up until that point. The first thing that happened was denial. Then there was the anger- you know, the typical stages of grief (the other three being bargaining, depression and, finally, acceptance). What made me think of my knee, and then remember its anniversary, was the impending arrival of summer (though some doubt if it will ever arrive) and how I felt robbed last year of bike rides and summer strolls and tossin‘ the ‘ol pigskin and everything that is summer to me (I actually don’t play football all that often… but somehow I associate football with summer… even though it really should be fall).
I refuse to let this summer go by idly, as it did last year. I am bound and determined to make up for last years afternoons that were spent in my knee brace and crutches on the porch or patio. While my friends and roommates went on bike rides,I tried desperately not to take as a personal offence.
While I have made these resolutions in my head, I am constantly reminded that my knee did suffer an injury that has not been ‘fixed,’ but has merely been compensated for by my muscles and physical therapy. I am broken.
I suppose that the moral of the story is that the human body is incredibly resilient. My knee still bothers me on occasion, and I’m pretty sure that well before I hit 40 I shall be predicting changing weather patterns. However, one year and 2 days after a personal tragedy, I hiked 7.3-ish miles up and down a mountain- something of a personal victory.