After all of this time in the training room, you
consider yourself an expert on the injured area.
It becomes yours, yet something very distinct
from you. “How are you?” and “How’s the
knee?” are not the same question. Oh, I’m
doing just fine. The knee’s a bit under the
weather, though. We may go out to lunch later.
As there is no sun in an upstate winter, so
there is no light in your recovery. Everyone
around you is healing, happily bouncing out of
the training room on two solid legs. Your teammates tumble, swing, win meets, fall but get back
up again. And you spin slow circles on the stationary bike, going nowhere. Somehow, yours
will be the injury that will defy all laws of nature
and never heal.
Remember when you used to be a gymnast?
When you could pass the training room without
stopping in? Will that ever be you again?
“Relax! You have to
relax!” the trainer says.
Commands to relax seem
paradoxical. Everything in
your knee is going to snap
in one … more … push.
You pedal faster on the bike. Faster than the
basketball player next to you who just broke his
leg. Yes. With that, you begin your comeback.
When nobody’s watching, that is.
“Where are your crutches?” your friends ask.
“Oh, I forgot them.”
“What are you doing?” your coach calls across
the gym.
“Just kips!” you yell as you dangle upside
down.
“Where’s your brace?” the trainer asks with a
frown.
“I’m only taking three steps without it. I meas-
ured the distance. I got this.”
Finally, that one day comes. The day you
never thought would arrive. The day that, when
it does arrive, does not feel nearly as exciting as
you had thought it would.
The paper is signed. The magic words are
there in nearly illegible doctor-scrawl: “No
restrictions.”
You walk out, quiet in your triumph. For you
are not done. Strengthening exercises, a new
back-to-sports brace, that sheet of ice in front of
you, fear—ah, so much fear—all await. Now,
more than ever, the trainers have their eyes on
you.
But you allow yourself a smile. They can’t really chase you down. After all, you’ve been cleared
to run. IG
Gallagher, a former gymnast at SUNY-Cortland who
“excelled at injuries and rehab,” has just completed an
MFA in Creative Writing from Stony Brook University.
