The Yellow Door Life

It seems odd that the downfall of one of history’s greatest warriors was something as simple as his heel.

I’ve always been fascinated with ancient history, including the Trojan War and I often think about how deeply these stories still impact us today (unlike many of my students who seem to think history doesn’t have anything to do with present day life *insert heaviest of sighs here*). 

March is always a wild month filled with spring allergies, tornadoes, and the pursuit of stamina to last me to spring break.

This March was all of that to the 20th power.

I wanted nothing more than to do our school yearbook this year and was blessed to have the opportunity to do so, but on top of living out some sort of wild version of The Wizard of Oz (with a tornado literally ripping through an area about a mile from house) and the constant demands of teaching, yearbooking, job applying and interviewing, and trying to survive everything in between, I almost didn’t make it out of March fully intact mentally or spiritually. 

I pushed myself all day, every day. 

I wasn’t sleeping or eating enough. 

I started doing workouts on back-to-back days.

Finally, I woke up one Saturday morning with excruciating pain in my left ankle. 

I have sprained my ankles many times throughout my life, so I knew what that pain felt like, but this was different and it came out of nowhere.

I hadn’t rolled my ankle.

It just hurt like all heck. 

I hobbled out of bed and almost ate it trying to get to the bathroom. 

I started my RICE and just hoped it would work itself out.

After icing it a few times, I could see the swelling was clearly in my achilles. 

Tendonitis. That was a new one for me, which is weird because I was an athlete as a kid, but I forget that my age is starting to show in more ways now than just my grey hairs. 

A week later, after limping around and having one of my kindest students offer his arm to walk me to and from lunch, the swelling finally went down enough for me to lose the Crocs and wear sneakers again. 

I went to my chiropractor and he told me I had to slow down and back off. Take your rest days Emily. Keep your workouts to an hour. 

He told me to get back in the gym that week, but I didn’t.

I waited a full month after that Saturday morning, but today I finally went back. 

You see, Achilles and I have something in common. We pushed ourselves to a breaking point, because we thought we were unbreakable. I, however, should know better. I’m not some mythologically strong Greek warrior, I’m just me, the one with the heart and lung thing and the strength that needs rebuilding. 

I kept making plans to go back to the gym all of March, but I psyched myself out. I was worried I would get hurt again. 

During my workout tonight, God said, “you came back, but you didn’t have to.”

That refocused me instantly. 

I used to be the person that didn’t come back; didn’t say no and chose poorly when I said yes. 

Now, I get back up and show up when I don’t have to, but I want to. 

The achilles in my heel is just one achilles in my life. 

I still live with my fear of inadequacy and the tendency to work myself to the point of insanity. 

I still worry.

I still stress cry on the way home from work more days than I’d like.

But I still come back too. 

❤