WHEN THE BODY IS TRAUMA

On October 10, 2019, I totally blew out my knee.

I had been training regularly for a qualifying run for my Black Belt (at age 44) and needed to pass a 3-mile/30 minute test. I felt good all summer, never quite getting as fast as I needed to pass, but I stuck to a regular routine, looked forward to running, and even managed to lose about 15 lbs in the process. I was in the best shape I had been in years, and felt so proud of what I had been doing.

Then Fall travel season hit. And, my running days decreased.

The week prior to the test, I trained and pushed myself so hard for two back to back days, and then hopped on a plane. As I was sitting on the plane, I could feel my knee lock up; my thigh muscles tense; and every ounce of my side hurt. I got off the plane and nearly fell over, unable to put weight on my right leg.

I managed to get through my week, but was unable to train or warm up or remind my body of what it felt like to be active and powerful.

So, of course, when I showed up on testing day, I made it TWO laps around the track and had to tap out.

I failed.

If you know anything about me, you know I am hard-wired to push through everything. Falling short has never been an option for me. And, yet, here I was, ending my qualifying test, in front of so many people, and just moving to the side. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and less than worthy of what was happening.

I was devastated.

Weeks and weeks of physical therapy became my life. I often showed up at karate class — against the recommendation of my PT — and, of course, injured myself more. As my PT says, “Liza, you spend 2 hours a week correcting your muscles with me; but then you undo it all in your 2 hours a week of karate. Something’s gotta give, Liza. Something’s gotta give.”

I stubbornly ignored him, telling myself that I was powerful and determined.

But the more I undermined my healing, the more pain I was in. The slower I became. And the more frustrated I grew. But, I loved going to work out with my PT — I felt challenged, sweating MORE in these isometric sessions that I have on a hot running day! I was sore after each session, breathless, and stronger.

So, why, today, when my PT graduated me to do some running on the treadmill while he watched, did I cry. I full on cried. I was that person who was running … and crying … at the same time.

His lack of surprise told me that this wasn’t the first time someone had this experience.

He kept asking me if I was in physical pain. And, I wasn’t. But, I felt my heart beating out of my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath. And, all I wanted to do was crumble into a ball and sob.

I never regained my composure. I cried after the treadmill. I cried while he pushed me through two more strength rotations. I cried while he taped my leg. I cried as I said, “Thanks, Rich. See you next week.”

It’s been a few hours since that episode, and I’m only now coming back to my own senses. I was scared on that treadmill. I was nervous, frustrated, worried, and angry. Every negative thought I had felt like daggers poking my skin, my organs, and my veins. With every step I took, I told myself I was useless, that I was weak, that I was a failure.

I know I’m making progress — slowly — towards strengthening my leg and knee. But it’s hard not to also focus on where I’m falling behind, where I am failing, and where I just can’t keep up.

Sometimes the body is power, strength, and motion.

Sometimes the body is comfort, closeness, and security.

Sometimes, the body is trauma.

And, sometimes, it simply needs to heal.

Peace and love,

Liza T.