Triggering the drill:
Roll & stretch & soak & rest
Pamper ‘til its wheedled to perform
Only to find the instability has leapt
Like checkers, over back and hip to
Settle in the knee
Fencing at this age is like a game of
dominos
Or like applying plastic film--one sly burp of air
Always remains
No matter the massage
Squidging to another spot
Never truly
Gone
Knowing this migration
Always in the back of mind a
Modicum of doubt
That tweak…a momentary pinge or
Foreshadow of a systematic fail?
One bad night or
The first step
In yet another years-long slog of
rehabilitation?
For all my decades this is what I’ve learned
We’re never really well
Or cured
Or permanently fixed
The best we can attain is
“functional for now”
Probationary health
And so my current goal:
To redefine heroic
And cultivate a reservoir of
Kindness to myself
There's ample room for fellowship
Perhaps you'd like to join the quest?
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