You wake up on a Saturday morning, having slept until about 8:15. You could have slept longer, had the dog not decided to bellow at someone running on the street. You had a great night's sleep and you feel really good. Until you start to get out of bed.
As you swing your legs over the side of the bed, you notice some stiffness in your back. You go over the last 24 hours in your head, trying to recall what you did to cause this to happen but you come up empty. It's nothing, you say, and you start the day's events.
You read the paper. You eat breakfast. And this stiffness in your back has progressed to slight pain. Go out, go running, that'll loosen it up, you tell yourself. So you do. And it seems to help.
Until 2 hours later. Now you're in a little more pain. So you decide to put some heat on it. Ah, that's better. And it is. For now anyway.
Later that afternoon you work with 11/12 year-old girls on hitting their cut-off, lining themselves up for the throw, and positioning themselves to field a grounder at shortstop. You pitch batting practice for about 30 minutes, and you catch another 10-15 minutes. No problem, you say. I'm all better now. But you're not.
The next morning you wake up and the pain is now in your left cheek. The one in the southern hemisphere. You learned not to treat that area with Icy Hot years ago, so you go back to the heating pad.
You return to the softball field that afternoon after church, knowing you won't have to exert yourself because the league has paid for a pitching coach to work with the young pitchers. And you're good, talking to other parents and friends while taking the occaisional picture. You talk to the guy you coach with, discussing the merits of all the players on this year's team. You even mention the back pain, and he can sympathize. He tells you about his chiropractor and how the pain was explained to him. It's good to have friends your own age who can share in your physical maladies.
Then you hear a bunch of little 11/12 year-old girls all yell "Daddy!" at the same time. They need you to catch, they say. You go back to the car and get your glove. You notice other dads running while you walk. You walk onto the field and catch for about 15 minutes. But you're not in the same catcher's squat you were in almost 24 hours ago. This time you're on one knee, and you learn that having the right knee down instead of the left knee elicits less pain so you stay with it. That night you'll soak in a hot tub of water and wear one of those heat patches to bed.
You wake up on Monday morning, determined to feel 100% today. Your wife asks how your back is, and you say it's better today than it was yesterday. Sure, you're lying, but you've got to think positively. You get to work and try dozens of different ways to sit. You're tempted to tell your employees what you've got a one-hour conference call so you can shut your door and lie on the floor. But you don't. It's tempting, but your don't. You simply pop another couple of Ibuprofens and decide to tough it out.
During the day you pray that time would fly by, knowing that time does indeed heal all aches and pains. At least it did 10 years ago.....