A Working Definition of Impossible

I'm seriously considering changing all the bulbs in my house to full-spectrum, fake-sunshine jobs that make it at least FEEL like the sun might come out again.  Power consumption and skin cancer statistics, be damned!

It's very grey, today.  I'm working on my third cup of coffee and trying to get motivated to clean the kitchen and/or clear a path through the carefully arranged tableaux of stuffed animals, blocks and cars that my crew left out before nap.  Doesn't that sound like fun?  Or if not fun, at least relaxing?  All of that cleaning and organizing and clearing and putting away that NEVER FREAKING ENDS?!?!


So, for now, I'm going to sit here with my coffee and my laptop and think about spring.

When I met with my physiotherapist for the first time, last week, he came upon me sitting with my leg propped up on the table, fully engrossed in Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.  He chuckled a little, glanced at my file, and then sat down next to my foot.

"So!  You're a runner!  That's excellent news!"

I looked at him blankly.  He is marginally less effusive than Andrew Davidson's Sayuri.  Marginally.

He smiled broadly and gave my good leg a reassuring pat.  "Runners have a high appreciation for pain.  Your knee rehabilitation regimen will be a piece of cake!"


I'm going to physio twice a week for the next few weeks with the goal of being able to run again after Christmas.  To not quite start all over in time for a 10k race in the snow in March, and move on to triathlon by the end of the season.  We'll forget, for now, that I'm prohibited from kicking while swimming, running at all, and any leg-driven cardio training.  Because, for now, I'm acquainting myself with the hand-bike at the gym and getting back into three-times-a-week strength training with resistance bands, cable machines and mat work.  I might not be able to get my ass down the stairs without wincing, but I can do 3x15 reps of straight-arm pull-downs, lat pulls, tricep presses, seated rows, single arm shoulder presses, trunk twists, mountain climbers, bicycle crunches, and superman pose.  I can do my lane swim laps with a pull-buoy.  I can get stronger, so that when it's time to race, I'll be ready.

Someone suggested to me that it might be impossible to train for triathlon, maintain my dayhome business, write this blog, continue tutoring ESL, be successful at grad school, and still fully enjoy my life and family.

I don't like "impossible".  It's an excuse to stop trying, stop striving, stop searching for other ways to get where I want to be.  It's an excuse to stop truly living this life.

Next spring, I'll have finished my first semester of grad school.  My business will be one year older, my language learners will be striving toward new milestones, my playlist will be fueling my Saturday morning run, and my kids and my extra kids will amaze me with all that they know and do.  My husband and I will celebrate another anniversary.  My mum will be here to enjoy my daughter's sixth birthday.  Mud will coat my legs and back when I cross the finish line for the first 10k race of the season.  And Mike will catch me when I leap for him, as he always dose.

My life is very full and very busy, and I love it.  All of it.

There is no room for "impossible", here.



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