On working out and growing up

I am, or was at one point not terribly long ago, a fairly good athlete. I could push my body and make myself work harder than what might be a normal limit. (For those of you reading this who are better athletes than me, know that I acknowledge your greatness, but my athleticism isn't really the point of this entry. More like the opposite.) Recently, I've been pushing it too hard and winding up in a ton of pain and discomfort. What the hell, man? When I'm working out, I don't feel like I'm pushing harder than I used to. It's true that I'm not working out that hard every single day. It's more like once a week that I work out really hard and just ends up being too much at once. But two weeks ago, I strained my calf muscles in a minor way but was incapacitated for 2 days. Now, my hip flexors (which are tendons, I think?) are so tight that standing up straight makes them feel like they're going to rip, and then I feel like I'm going to vomit. Today, standing up and sitting down at church felt like an exercise in flagellation, like I was causing myself pain to gain forgiveness, which really isn't part of my belief structure at all. I will probably spend the rest of today watching my new copy of Juno and icing my hip flexors (which is a weird place to ice if you've never done it before), so hopefully by tomorrow I'll be able to run again.

I should probably learn a lesson out of this. I should feel grateful for the strong body that God gave me, which I am. I should be thankful that I've never had a truly debilitating disease or accident, and I am that, too. I just think about it more when I'm in a temporary state of debilitation, I guess. In no way do I equate my short-term injuries with the long-term, day-to-day struggle that someone might have to deal with. It's just a good reminder to not get angry about being hurt for a short time or for not being able to do some sport or not looking the way I want to look or all of those things that I focus on when I should just be constantly thankful for what I have. These little lessons are always more difficult than I think they're going to be.