I’m hard on myself sometimes. And I don’t mean just metaphorically. I mean like dropping a five-pound mallet on my right foot, or cutting my left thumb. Somehow, I keep injuring the same areas.

Four years ago, I dropped a crystal clock on my right foot…this was a few years after dropping the mallet. Man did that hurt. That damn clock was a gift from an old real estate client of mine who was ready to sue me because she was sure the home she purchased was giving her headaches. I managed to avert getting sued by selling that home and helping her buy a new one, affectively earning me thousands of dollars and…. a lead crystal clock, which smashed my foot.

I grew up in a family that believed you don’t go to the doctor unless you’re brought there by ambulance. So I just let my foot heal on it’s own. That was a mistake.

I managed to hobble along on it just fine, and it felt better before long, so I just figured, that was that. About a year later, I was in so much pain I couldn’t walk without crying. John insisted on taking me to see a doctor, and that started a long journey of injections and physical therapy, and ultimately ended in surgery to fuse the joint in my big toe.

For three years, I let that foot slow me down and even stop me from exercising. Not walking properly, lead to my knees and hips hurting. My knees got so bad, I went to see yet another doctor who told me I had chondromalacia; a tracking problem with my kneecaps. He said I’d had it from birth, and it would get worse when I got older, like in my 40’s. When I told him I was 57, he said, “oh, you are already old!”. Thanks doc.

Turns out all those years riding my bike had kept my knees tracking the way they are supposed to. And I love riding my bike, so why did I let a bum foot stop me for so long?

I think there are times we get in a rut. We think, “well, this is the way it is now”, and just live with it. But I also think that’s how we let age sneak up on us and define us as old and aching.

I don’t want to do that any longer. Time for a bike ride.