I promised my wife (the brains behind this blog and related social media accounts) that my posts would always be about my faith and not my running. But sometimes the two inevitably overlap. So this post is about both of them; although you will be delighted to hear it might be the last one about the latter for quite some time.
I have been running for just over three years now and have been largely blessed by injury free progress to date. I started running in my forties so aches and pains are unavoidable but on the other side of the coin I have relatively few miles on the clock unlike some guys my age whose bodies have given up on them after decades of pounding the roads.
All that changed this morning when I leaped (stumbled) out of bed and, upon planting my left foot on the bedroom floor, felt a sharp pain which grew increasingly worse over the course of the next few hours. To the extent that later that morning I found myself lying on the floor of my office curled up in a ball as waves of nausea and juddering pain took turns in bulldozing through my body.
Yes I had driven to work like an idiot. And I felt equally idiotic as my wife and youngest daughter had to rescue me and deliver me to the Accident & Emergency Department. A rapid x-ray confirmed my worst fears. A rather impressive torn ATF ligament and avulsion fracture of the cuboid bone. Or in layman’s terms a busted ankle.
Which led to my first ever experience with crutches. Feeling quite the rock star as I initially hopped out of the hospital I soon realised that they were hard work. I was soon sweating like I had run a half marathon. And it was to get worse when I got home.
Otherwise mundane tasks such as visiting the fridge, going upstairs or (sorry people) using the bathroom turned into Herculean endurance events. Give me 26.2 miles any day of the week I whined as the crutch slipped again from my grasp and another bolt of pain shot through my poor foot. Aren’t these things meant to be a help rather than a hindrance?
At which point my son quietly informed me that I was holding them the wrong way round. 180 degrees later and I was off again like Lewis Hamilton surging round the streets of Monte Carlo. Much better. I now had the necessary support I needed get where I needed to be.
Which got me thinking. God knows a bit about support. In fact he is the greatest and only support we need in our lives if we just accept that fact and discard all the other crutches that we feel we need to get from A to B in life. Why depend on alcohol, food, money, image or status when all we have to do is accept him into our lives. Then the other things will take care of themselves.
But how often do we rebel against him and hold tight onto our earthly idols to the point where we end up in a worse state than we started out. Going nowhere fast or falling flat on our face. Because we know best. Or at least think we do.
So next time you hit a brick wall in life and are in need of a leg up don’t be afraid to reach for the greatest crutch of all. And let him carry you to your ultimate destination. Or it could be a long road ahead….
‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to him and he will make your paths straight.’ PROVERBS 3:5-6
What’s been your grisliest sporting injury?
What do you turn to when life deals you a bad hand?
What’s the longest you have ever had to wait in an Accident and Emergency Department?