The good and the bad of muscle memory

For a long time, muscle memory has been my good friend. I've been able to bring back my formally athletic self in a variety of incarnations over the years. My muscles are more than happy to pop back into shape and repeat strength training and cardio exercises under however many pounds of fat I am currently carrying.

With my fall, I've learned the different side of muscle memory in physical therapy. Every time I hit a chair, bed, couch, my ass reacts like I'm hitting the pavement again. The result is an excrutiating clench of my muscles that makes me say a long string of bad, bad words. Standing up with these tightened muscles is not a treat either. I've been given a litany of stretches to help my booty relax.

I want to get back on skates to badly. I've realized that I look longingly at the parking lot of my fall every time I drive by. I felt some pangs yesterday when I thought of girls going to endurance practice. Granted, it would have almost killed me, but dammit, I would have loved every minute of it. Well, if not loved, certainly appreciated being there and being a part of it.

Yep, I need to keep my chin up. This is going to be a long road.