621:567:52
Freedom of movement is a valuable thing, to my mind. Not least in the shoulders. I’m lucky enough to have free movement in the shoulders. It’s helped me to achieve all sorts of things that other parts of my body simply wouldn’t have managed to achieve on their own. I look after my shoulders, probably not as much as I should I know. They’d thank me for a bit more backstroke, and they’d prefer I hadn’t taken the opt out on the expensive chiropractor. But even though I’m not supporting them wholeheartedly they continue to give me what I need; some strength and stability. They make the whole of me more than just the sum of my parts.
People might try to persuade me that the rest of me could manage just fine without my shoulders, that it would be alright because if I ever decided to leave them they’d probably be so keen to continue to do all the work that I could absolve any responsibility for looking after them. These people would promise me that I wouldn’t have to think about back stroke ever again, but still my shoulders would be there… all eager to do my bidding and delighted to let me keep all of my rights to use them without any of the responsibility for looking after them. They’d brush off my insistence that I simply wouldn’t be able to lift a cup of tea, tell me that my belief that without my shoulders I’d be weaker and would look silly to boot as scaremongering. Project Fear, they’d call it. They’d make vague references to my being able to Take Back Control, without ever really explaining just how I’d manage that without, if only I got rid of the troublesome shoulders. They’d insist that my shoulders have somehow taken over from brain and are running the show in secret, robbing me of opportunities I don’t even know I’m missing. My weak lower back, and my muffin top, are all the fault of my shoulders. If only I would listen to them and get rid of my shoulders I’d be able to knock out 5k fly standing on my head. They’re sure of it.
But that wouldn’t be a gamble I’d ever want to take, to be frank. Why would I?
And no, those numbers up there are not big enough. I am still finding it hard to breathe at all, so swimming is a significant challenge and I am feeling pretty demotivated about that because the clock is ticking. My stroke feels much better, although the jazz hands are still an issue and the wandering knees creep in when I tire… but I feel that if my lungs ever clear I might be able to start to build things up with the stroke as it is… but this morning I couldn’t string out more than two lengths continuous without coughing my guts up. Not pretty.
flyordry 