He skis right behind you. He watches you with the utmost intent. He doesn't say anything, just spectates and makes sure you're paying attention. He's like the cold air coming through a cracked window and into a warm room.
Being able to look him in the eyes and overcome him is something I beg for. His name is injury.
Pain is defined as "An unpleasant feeling occurring as a result of injury or disease, usually localized in some part of the body." That's utter bullshit. Pain can't be dumbed down like that, it's meant to be respected, and trust me, I do.
As I sit here in the lodge and feel the excruciating throbbing creep up my spine, originating from a softball sized bump towards the bottom of my back, I think about what it would be like if things like this didn't happen...
I didn't meet any amazing new people today; I met excruciating pain. I didn't listen to any stories, but my own screams as I lay on top of the cement like snow in agony. I'm okay now, yeah, sitting in the lodge, writing to help distract myself.
I like to live my life taking good from bad. So, while I sit here with what is now the third makeshift ice-pack slowly dripping down my back I contemplate how us skiers and boarders can triumph over injury or pain.
Fog clouds those answers. I'm not sure. I can distract myself long enough to stop thinking about the pain only to have it come back even stronger, reminding me it's there.
One day, maybe I'll figure it out. How to look pain in the eye and let him know I'm not interested. But, until that day, I can only pray to stay healthy.
~Ryan
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