Scars

Scars are there to tell a story (even if it is one that I don’t remember!)

The issue I face is that I don’t put two and two together, when I fall I just get up and keep going, I don’t think about the consequences and the fact that the cuts and bruises I have gained are going to be painful, they are going to take time to heal and they will most likely result in another beautiful cracker to add to my ever growing collection of scars criss-crossing all over my body. I just march on through a minefield of brambles and nettles without thinking twice of the disaster this will make of my shins, who doesn’t love a few scratches to pretend they have been ravaged by a savage cat!

My emotional or not so emotional response the scars that I have goes up and down (a bit like the dodgy roads and tracks that are responsible for them!) At times I honestly couldn’t care less about them (usually when I haven’t fallen for a while so everything is still in one piece) at these times everything feels top dollar and the scars I have are just there, part of me nothing I can do about it sorry pal.

At other times (normally a few days after I have fallen and taken a chunk out of my leg or arm), it dawns on me that this latest addition is going to stop me running for a few days (this is because the terror of falling again on my open wounded knee is too great, it’s like the fear of giving your friends some really severe food poisoning when they are brave enough to try your latest creation. Also, this latest injury is going to take its sweet time to heal. I also realise that hang on, as I have managed to get a pretty impressive gouge, that impact will probably also have some decent bruising along with it (like a really shocking 2-for-1 deal) so then with the bruising it is like my body has created its own army camouflage (I mean it is pretty rubbish as it doesn’t help to hide the heal wound or scars).

Recently for me after a particularly bad spell of cumulative injuries from multiple falls, I have had enough, I have just got fed up of the appalling state of my arms and legs. On more occasions than I can count I have discovered a new scar or bruise that I just have absolutely no clue how I have got them all over the place. It just frustrated me as I realised these scars really weren’t going anywhere and would stick around for the long haullike that One Annoying Uncle (OAN) who just hangs around after Christmas so somehow he is still in your house in February, I mean come on you must have got the message now OAN it is time to jog on. So much so that I just haven’t dared to go any faster than walking for fear that I trip fall and go back round to square one. As a result of my lack of running, I am in pretty good shape wound wise, currently no scabs or bruises. It feels like I have developed my own version of Would You Rather? Run, fall, wound bruise, scar or don’t move, stay upright? It’s chaos for my head-like and Eternal Brain Earthquake (EBE). When the EBE gets going there is just no chance-whichever side of the great divide you choose is going to end in disaster so I suppose you may as well enjoy the ride.

I think this is what I am slowly coming to realise. Yes, my scars annoy me (even more so when I pick up a bit of a tan and they stand out even more (I look like the man painting the zebra crossing was absolutely drunk off his rocker and has no clue what a straight line is- I am just a giant Wonky Zebra Crossing)-even better when I have to show off these crackers to more of the world whilst I wear my shorts and strappy tops in the warmer weather. But my scars are prove there to me that I can do hard things (well maybe not hard things as everyone else makes their daily 5km run look like a breeze) but things that I find hard. They prove to me that I am able to push myself (as I fall more when I am tired). Of course the ideal situation would be to do these things without going flying, but you know what, this is not going to happen. If I want to challenge myself I will fall but the point is I get back up and keep going. They prove to me that my body is amazing. It lets me get out and prove to myself and everyone else that it is possible. It is better to live my life and do these things that are hard rather than living in fear and wrapping myself in cotton wool. Also because that would be exceptionally hot so I would become a Very Slimy Cloud (VSC) (this is definitely worse than a few scars-nobody would like to see that I think the recent heat wave has proven that sweat/slime is not a good look). So moral of this weird and wonderful post is go for the Wonky Zebra Crossing over the Very Slimey Cloud.

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