Do you ever have one of those weeks. You know, those weeks when you wonder whether it's all worth it, and could it get any worse? Yep, you guessed it - that is exactly where I've been at this past week. Don't believe me? Oh, just wait till I tell you this tale...
It all started with a workout session with my personal trainer (Justin) last Tuesday (not the one just gone). He decided we needed to do some boxing. I used to LOVE boxing, until I injured my wrist about 18 months ago - and it took about 12-16 weeks to recover, and it hurt like hell. So now, I'm a little hesitant. But Justin doesn't take no for an answer. So we got stuck into the boxing - and lo-and-behold, about 20 minutes into it, a sharp pain shot through my wrist. So boxing gloves off, and ice on. Finished off the session doing leg weights instead.
By the evening, my wrist wasn't too bad, and I went to bed thinking the worst was over. How wrong can a girl be? I woke up in the morning with sharp pains shooting through my right ribs. But I will point out, surprisingly, my wrist was fine. So I made an appointment to see the physiotherapist the following day. And took lots of pain killers in the meantime, while cursing Justin everytime my ribs hurt. Yes, he knows I curse him constantly for the pain - it's one of the joys of being a personal trainer - lots of people curse you!!!
It gets worse. Come the day of my appointment. About 30 minutes before I had to leave for my appointment, I wandered outside to find our cat (a Maine Coon who cannot be left outside), so I could lock her in the house. She was just outside, near the garden, sitting there on flat ground. I must point out - the ground was 100% flat, because what happened next is unexplainable. Yep, I tripped. I lost my balance. And I went down, full weight, on my left knee. I couldn't even get my hands out in time to stop the full impact. The pain made me gasp for breath. Once I got that back, I started howling (and cursing). Not because of the pain (which was excrutiating at this point), but because of the frustration. Seriously, how could anyone be dumb enough to injure themselves further, just 30 minutes before going to see a physiotherapist? Really? So I grabbed the cat (who I am sure was smirking), shoved her inside and put ice on my knee before going to my appointment.
Now, when I explained all this to my physiotherapist, I am sure he didn't believe me at first, and then once he realised I was dead serious, I am sure it took all his self control not to crack up. How insanely daft did I feel? Anyway, after some electro-therapy stuff, and taping my ribs up (they had a small tear from the boxing that had gotten worse overnight), he sent me home. the verdict - no gym, no boxing, no karate - until today. I started training again today (very hesitantly, I might add). And at this present point in time, I am injury free. But tomorrow is another day... (-: