Leaping lizards! I knew I had a long way to go, but this is serious. How could I have deluded myself into thinking I knew a little something-something already? Would you just look at the list below. I didn't know half of those things even existed. Heck, I'm not even past first grade level in my roundhouse kick! Demmet!
*****
In the words of Britney Spears, "Oops, I did it again." The third sports-related injury I got this year, and it's not even November. That's not counting the scrapes and bruises (not to mention, the toenail incident that happened during my very first MT session last year) that on a semi-regular basis reinforce their existence on various aspects of my person. You'd think I was a battered girlfriend. But of course, how could I be? (A girlfriend, that is.)
So first it was my left pinkie. Got bruised up in an unfortunate-but-you'd-never-have-seen-it-coming sparring exercise with one of those amorous boxing trainors at Red Corner Makati. Cut short my then sudden aspirations of getting some action in the ring--yes, with media sponsors looking on and a live audience cheering you on and booing your opponent and all (yep, the ultimate wannabe episode of my life)--which is probably just as well. The pinkie incident got me looking like I forever had morsels of blueberry muffin smeared on the side of my hand, too. You'd think something so small and therefore harmless to one's overall constitution couldn't elicit gasps of horror and revulsion at the mere sight of it. It was utterly hideous, I tell you. Not to mention expensive. I had to down antibiotics for a couple of weeks--doctor's orders--which actually bore a hole in my pocket. Not exactly the most enticing incentive for living the health nut lifestyle.
The second major injury was with my right elbow. My mistake, but not totally my bad. This time, it was the big boss at the training gym in Pasig. He's super duper nice and all but really, what business did I have, being a relative freshie and all, to be doing a knee strike more than 6 feet away from the target? Plus, on solid, unpadded, unforgiving ground, no less. So naturally, gravity had to play teacher. I landed splat on my right arm. There goes the wakeboarding trip. Not to mention my ego. Yep, lootsaaa witnesses there. Anyhoo, it's all good now. Took a little over a month to heal, no biggie. Lesson learned. I more or less rock the elbow now, at least I like to think.
And now this. ¡Hay, que mal! Some muscle in the vicinity behind the kneecap I must have pulled during training. As a result, I now can't contract my right leg in certain angles without feeling a little tingle in the area (nuh-uh, it ain't the happy type, no siree). I don't even know exactly how I got it. I was just practicing my super sucky roundhouse with one of the coaches. Maybe it was due to the lack of a proper warm-up, I dunno. I never even felt anything during the actual session. Next thing I know, passing through Megamall on my way home, I'm doing a horrendous rendition of one of those stump-legged ageing Jack Sparrow types that I see on the Disney Channel.
On the whole, it's a little funny, actually. And it's really nothing in the grand scheme of things. In fact, I knew this was gonna be the way with MT, and it's all good. I just dunno how long this thing is gonna take. Now I can't go running at the very least. To think there's another race on November 25th. What's a girl to do? I can't stand being immobile. I can't not move. Doggone leg muscle thing. Man, I'm practically baldado! Arrgggghh. I get awfully crabby when my options close shop in my face just when I'm about to sashay through the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment