Injured/ Overworked

I am coming into my third week of injury. Each week has been filled with questions about where and how bad the pain is, to determine what to do and how long it will take for me to be running again. Meanwhile my teammates are racing well and continuing to improve. I have to wonder what I am supposed to be learning through this.

The physical therapists like to say, give it two more weeks every time I see them and then today, the trainer suggested that two months is worth the wait, to get me really well. He then watched me run and noticed my inefficient stride and how I was straining my legs by landing with my heals first. Not running makes me feel antsy and tired and like everything in my body might fail me, which is hard given I pride myself on being invincible.

When my 76 year old father was here, he worked hard to help me build sandboxes and move rocks. In the process of purchasing materials, I noticed that at Lowes, the first worker, sneared, avoided contact and acted insulted when my dad asked where in the country the treated pine had come from. I thought about complaining to a manger about the guy. I moved back to the counter while he was saying over his shoulder, "come find me if we had further questions." As he turned off the isle, I could see that he was laughing. We found another guy who seemed sincere and more enthusiastic about our sandbox project. He wanted to select the best wood and cautioned us on possible chemicals in our choice, though my dad eventually contradicted the information, telling the man that he did not know what he was talking about. He further made recommendations to the man and insisted on more difficult wood cuts then the guy was interested in making. My dad did not seem to notice the negative responses and I found myself apologizing for him when he was out of sight.

I notice in physical therapy that I feel like my dad looks to the workers in Lowes. I have hairy legs, am unsure of how painful my leg is or even where it is injured. I wonder if people instantly write me off or since I assume they don't like me, they appear to not like me. The PT seems to think that I am trouble and barely takes a minute to treat me or listen to my pain. So I tell myself the story of how I am not worth others time and how I am not a good runner (even when injured) and not a good writer and not a good mother and definitely a terrible wife and a horrible participant in matters of faith. My dad has an easier time of things, since he does not notice or read into his interactions, and enjoys just doing what he wants to do.

So where is the happy medium? The right amount of ambivalence and noticing that is going to make exchanges and relationships last? I will go to sleep and try again tomorrow to figure that one out.