Strength

I've always hated that saying: "Pain is weakness leaving the body."  That is so un-true.  Pain is sometimes injury, or foolishness, embarrassment, or even loss.  Some would say it is the loss of weakness, again a malicious falsehood to any person who has chosen to compete in even high school level athletics.  

I haven't been able to do much of anything for months, due to an injury.  I have always found solace in physical activity.  All of those months during which I was not able to walk, run, swim, hike, lift weights, bend, stretch, flex, or tighten took a toll on me.  I have all this pent up energy, and have had no place to put it.  I felt like a dog that has not been let out to run in ages.  I was ready to "chew up" anything or anyone that came in my path.  

Yesterday I took advantage of the beautiful weather and worked in my garden.  I had weeds to pull, plants to transplant, seedlings to put in the ground, and grass clippings to spread.  This would have been a good day, but not a strain in the past.  Now, this is a huge day that leaves me exhausted.  I reveled in the feel of sweat pouring down my face and dripping down the small of my back.  It is something I have not gotten to feel for too long.  Waves of heat and light washed over me, cleansing me of the toxins built up over the past year, but I still had to pay attention.  I no longer have the luxury of pushing into pain and beyond.  Now, my job is to stop or change before pain arrives.  My job is to avoid pain.  I see it for what it is, a vicious monster that consumes my body's strength and leaves me begging for relief.  

I know many who would disagree with that.  Those are the lucky, those are the ones who haven't truly experienced pain.  That long lasting, gnawing, driving nemesis of strength that saps it from your body and soul.  I don't wish on anyone what I have had to experience, but I also know how very stupid some people are about their bodies and what they do with them.  I am speaking a language that they haven't yet learned, and I hope they never have to.

For now, I am rejuvenated by joy and soreness; not pain, just a reminder that I am still alive, and still one of the lucky ones.  There are those who don't get to earn back the privilege of using their muscles and renewing themselves.  Every movement of my arms or legs brings a reminder of the work that was done yesterday, and every bit of soreness is a gift.  I look forward to my next day in the garden, on the trail, or in the water as a generous blessing not to be wasted.  

Does it make me strong or weak that I will no longer push to and through pain?  That I no longer see it in the same way?  That is not for me to say.  I can't judge it in the same way as I no longer see the characters for who and what they were.  It is like finding someone you thought to be a hero is, in fact, the villan.  What do you say to those who still view that entity as the hero of their lives?