No Afters

In the beginning our goal would be just to walk a mile without pain in her legs--when she was injured." Greg Hoak to NBC10's Jade McCarthy Jan. 2009



We were at least two years beyond that goal and talking about running a ten miler that day. And, maybe I never truly believed, until now, my own assertion that "there are no afters. " I know I detest being back at the beginning. How did I end up here--with shooting pain in what used to be "the good hip" and the grinding right knee, and a cruel and constant ache in both ankles? I meant something all together different when I said "This is about forever." That was the good Forever--the mantra you cling to. Forever is an unbearable idea on a day when the warm up leaves you in a cold sweat: the sum of regret + worry.


What can I possibly work toward today? Every step on the treadmill is a painful study of my connective tissue as the heat in the socket of my left hip flares up and down. I turn the music up, the incline, silence the fan that is annoying me; but none of my alterations gets me beyond the overbearing drill in my mind:" step forward, step forward, step forward." Despite six years of change and ambition (and no matter how much I wish it weren't true) I know that I am lame-- in every sense-- no matter how much I try not to be.


The realization stings more than the injury and the expression that comes with it begs the question: "How is your leg?"
"It hurts."
"I know, " Greg replies, "I can hear you limping."


And then I know--I know why I'm here. Because no one else I know HEARS this--even I don't HEAR it. And, I feel a smile all at once try to raise the corner of my mouth and my spirit. Because maybe, just maybe someone-- who in 15 seconds HEARS this, this antithesis to everything that is fluid and productive, maybe that means he also HEARS a way to UNDO it. And the chance of that is enough, just enough, to make me unwilling to cave in here today. Somehow I refuse to accept pity for progress, like my past life of late night binges once trained me to do.

"Can't walk today? Crawl then, it worked when you were one-- still works. So, it's inch worms and bear crawls today. Then you'll walk , then you'll run. Then you'll...who knows what's next? But, let's just say it'll be something better than --sympathy."

It sounds like Greg, but it isn't It's... ME

Somehow that mindset seeps into your brain if you let it...
"Are you ready to quit?"

"NO."

"Then, you must be ready to start."

And, then I find it--"Yes."