On the mend: Taking baby steps | AspenTimes.com

On the mend: Taking baby steps

Janet Urquhart
The Aspen Times
Aspen CO Colorado

ASPEN – Six weeks or more. That’s the prognosis for my recovery from a hamstring tear. It’s only been two weeks, and already I’m climbing the walls – figuratively. Literally, I can’t climb anything.

I feel like a toddler who thinks 45 minutes is an eternity. Six weeks? More? Didn’t the reunification of Germany happen faster?

I’m walking like a small child, too. My physical therapist (who tells me PT is short for pain and torture) has advised me to walk normally even if that means taking baby steps. At first, I could barely could get across Aspen’s Main Street in the time allotted. The walk signal (little, white walking man) would change to 14 seconds and start counting down before I was halfway across. The good news is everyone seemed to take pity on me as soon as I started walking like Frankenstein with a limp. Motorists waited for me to clear the intersection even after my time was up.

The other good news is that I don’t need surgery. Apparently, if one manages to pop a hamstring muscle (there’s actually more than one running from the butt to behind the knee) off bone at the top of the leg, surgical reattachment is a likely necessity. Mine is simply ripped, like the parking ticket you start to tear in half in disgust but then tape together and pay, figuring having your car towed is worse than the parking fine.

I’m waiting for my muscle to tape itself back together. Do anything fun too soon, and the tape won’t hold. Fun includes driving a car to the grocery store (something I’ve only just recently managed to do).

This pretty much means my seven-day Classic Pass will go completely unused unless I ride up the gondola to admire the views. Also, I fully expect to lose my hard-won spot in spin class, not to mention any shred of muscle tone I managed to acquire in a year’s worth of spinning.

One of the first things I managed to utter as I lay in the snow after I biffed on a cross-country ski outing was, “I’m gonna get fat!”

Let’s face it – no matter how much I fume over medical bills and insurance red tape, I’m not going to burn off the beer I’ll be drinking for breakfast soon.