Way back at the end of May I mentioned that I broke my ribs. Then a couple of weeks later I left a cryptic comment in this post that things “didn’t go my way”. Since everyone was nice enough to put up with my complaints, I thought it would be fitting that I let everyone know that I’m doing quite a bit better.
And about that bad weekend…
What happened was this: My back went out. I’ve been typing more or less since I was twelve, so my back is really messed up by now and it goes out from time to time. Well, I was already dealing with pain from my ribs when suddenly the muscles in my lower back spasmed and I couldn’t hold myself up any more. Unable to use my arms properly (in this case, quickly) because of the ribs, I managed to fall face-down on my left side, which is where my broken ribs were. This set the healing process back quite a bit. I didn’t mention this at the time, since everyone had endured enough complaints already. But now that I’m better I feel okay talking about it.
I’ve since recovered fully, although with a new appreciation for how devastating simple mishaps can be. The worst part of this is that I seem to have inflated a bit. A few months of no exercise whatsoever has caused my physique to expand to Jabba-like proportions. Time to do something about that. I may even resort to the drastic measure of direct exercise. I try to keep my exercise limited to manual labor projects or mowing the lawn. (I actually really enjoy mowing.) I need all the exercise I can get, but I hate exercise for it’s own sake. I have a treadmill, but using it feels dull and pointless. I’m using electricity to help me burn energy? How much sense does that make? If I’m going to burn energy, I feel like I should be accomplishing something.
But this is all good. When you have the freedom to choose what sort of elective exercise you want to engage in, it means you are living better than most of humanity. So I’m not complaining. Life, while not perfect, is still pretty darn good.
Thanks for the well-wishes everyone.
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When I moved to California, I started to gain weight at an alarming rate. It may have something to do with American food. I went to a fitness club, but that was too dull. So I took martial arts lessons. Six years down the road, I’m not even a first degree black belt yet, but at least I can buckle my belts. Alas, I cannot fit into my old suits now: my shoulders expanded quite a bit. I think ESR’s “Hacker HOWTO” gave me this idea.
Couldn’t you have just coated your ribs in titanium alloy or something?
Come on! I need at least one cybernetic internet friend!
“Life, while not perfect, is still pretty darn good.”
The fact that you recognize this places you in a significantly small blessed minority. Not a bad place to be.
Take a second look at the treadmill. Here’s a hint: put it so you can see the TV, then put on an action movie. “The Terminator” works really well; you’ll be surprised how quickly the miles go by. You might need headphones, but trust me, you’ll be doing 20 miles a week in no time.
Of course, the best movies for this are pretty low brow, but hey, omelets and eggs and all that. They say it takes nine weeks to form a good habit, and only three to break one.
Congratulations on your recovery, and your positive attitude.
When that sort of thing happens to me, I just put up a post that says something like “blogging will be light for the next few days because I am dead”.
I managed to give myself a week of serious back pain last year by turning off the lights in my bathroom. Just turned and reached for the the switch and something went *click* in my spine and I couldn’t move. But I didn’t manage to fall over and land on already-broken ribs; that one is special. ;)
Come to think of it, I’ve never broken any part of me. Sliced, scraped, stabbed, bruised, twisted and sprained, yes. Broken, no. Just don’t seem to have the knack.
When I went for the surgery for the torn ACL, a tech asked me if it was my first. He made a surprised face when he learned that I was 40. He was younger and had 9. Riding a dirt bike recklessly will do it to a man. So, the number of broken bones is largely a function of the lifestyle, it seems.
But I’m glad Shamus is on the mend.
So, the number of broken bones is largely a function of the lifestyle, it seems.
I don’t exactly go out for extreme sports, that’s true. But I have (for example) fallen down a flight of tiled stairs and landed with one leg tucked underneath me in a manner perfectly designed to break my ankle. Except it didn’t break. I just picked myself up and limped off to find a taxi.