(I’m not entirely sure where we’re going with this post. You might find it motivational or philosophical, maybe you won’t. But somewhere in the next couple of hundred words, there may be a metaphor subtly tossed your way.)
A couple of afternoons ago, I had a crick in my neck. You know that weird combination of stiffness and discomfort you sometimes get if you sleep in the wrong position. The annoyance persisted into the evening and it rose to a crescendo the next morning.
I got out of bed, went for an un-inspired jog around the neighborhood – that helped. I fixed a breakfast of chia seed and blueberry oatmeal – that didn’t help. I took a hot shower – that kinda helped.
I was at the point where if I turned my head too far in either direction, sharp pain would ensue (A pain similar to the burning sensation on my neck brought on by a poorly applied cream relaxer back in the early ‘80s).
The time had come for a go-no go decision on whether or not I was going to make the donuts or take advantage of the ton of sick days I’ve accumulated.
Don’t ask me why, but I opted to punch the clock.
Once I arrived at the 9-to-5, A stiff cup-o-Joe washed down an over the counter acetaminophen based pain reliever and I went on with the business of my work day.
Other than moving around with the combined grace of Herman Munster and The Robot from the old Lost in Space TV show, I made it through the day with my discomfort pretty much unnoticed.
Work day finished, I made it home (Trying to avoid too many neck turns and keeping the Seoulmobile in one lane).
Another over the counter pain med, a good night sleep and another feeble run through the neighborhood and things slowly returned to normal.
Where am I going with this?
Is this simply a 51-year old midlifer complaining about the aches and pains of being a 51-year old midlifer?
Or is there a moral to this story?
That moral being that sometimes the best medicine for a little discomfort is to keep moving through it.
Yeah, I could have used a sick day and miserably languished on the Barcalounger in my footsie PJs, caught a round of Hot Topics with Wendy or try a case or two with Judge Judy, with a hot compress on my achy breaky neck, but for whatever reason, I suited up and made the donuts.
And I’m glad I did.
Hey, I’m not try to come across all tough guy, Johnny Work Ethic. I just want to convey that there is something to be said about moving – especially for those of us north of 50.
All of us from time to time have to endure a little discomfort. And when we do, we have to choose the best course of treatment.
Do we sit and suffer or take action and get up and move?
Just keep this rant in mind and do what’s best for you the next time a pain in the neck enters your life (Metaphorical mic dropped!).