City blocks and country miles.
Backroads and city sidewalks.
I’ve walked them all.
Ran a few.
More than a few, really.
#10 and I were talking after a tough loss over the weekend in Dallas.
The team is down three players, including him.
Three weeks ago in Conway, he made an amazing throw from right field to third base that beat the runner who tagged up from second.
An easy out.
But the throw on his lanky body did something to his shoulder.
It was sore for a few days, so we RICE’d it.
Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation.
But elevation hurt too, so his mom took him to the Dr.
He broke his shoulder.
The muscle in his arms pulled the throwing motion so fast, it chipped a bone.
Just a little divot in the growth plate, that made the ligament sore and affected only the overhead throwing.
I’d never heard of it, but it has a name.
Avulsion or something.
Common among growing boys who have yet to develop into the strength of their bodies.
Huh?
“You exercise with him?”
“Yes.”
“He plays, basketball, and baseball and bikes and runs and is always throwing a ball?” the doctor asked.
“Since he could walk.”
“His muscles are overdeveloped for the areas around the joints, and that motion was particularly stressful.”
Okay.
The kid can throw 71 mph at ten, almost eleven years old.
Tell him to slow down.
And rest the arm.
Which means, 6 weeks of riding the pine.
And being the designated hitter, which doesn’t affect his shoulder.
I may share screenshots of the game writes ups sometime.
But he’s only 1 of 3.
The other two are injured as well. A bulging disc in a 5’10” twelve year old. So big he only plays first base. So big, he only hit’s dinger’s because he can’t run fast.
The other is an elbow ligament issue.
From basketball.
I told the coach we were going to start packing a stock tub and putting them all in ice baths after each game.
He laughed and reminded me.
Kid’s get injured.
So do adults.
Another laugh for both of us.
He is the only other person I know who has broken his leg in three spots, gotten a steel bar and a couple of screws to hold his ankle together too.
How did that happen? I asked.
Skydiving, he answered with a straight face.
“No way! Me too.”
Then we compared scars.
And confessions.
He got his playing golf while six beers in.
Put his leg out of the cart, caught it on something as they were whizzing along and SNAP.
Then he waited for me to tell him what really happened.
I jumped out of an airplane for the first part of a one hundred mile race, landed wrong and tried to start running on a broken leg and dislocated ankle.
He kept waiting for the punchline.
It never came.
Guess what my Dr. recommended after surgery?
RICE.
Eight weeks.
Then a slow start to rehab and recovery before running.
I was a poor patient with patience.
I fear #10 will be worse.
The weeks feel longer when you’re young.
But now the hours race by like a man leaping from a perfectly good airplane to run an Ultra where the first mile on a country road is always the fastest.
Lined up for your perusal today:
RUN – a Battlefield Z story (audio)
Or READ IT HERE
HIDE – a Battlefield Z Story (read it here)
Or LISTEN TO IT
Plus THE ENCHANTED HEART
And The Shadowboxer Files are now on Kobo, Apple and coming to Barnes and Noble today.
The Shadowboxer Files
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Life is too short. Two of our grandchildren were born in August a year apart. They both fell off playground equipment and broke the same arm, 3weeks apart. Both of them lost the same teeth within a week. They love to tell stories. They think that their Papa is a pirate. Life goes on, they misbehave and I’ll make them walk the plank. Argh.
Go #10