Such a simple little body part until it becomes complex.
I’ve sure enjoyed strength training over the last few months. Globally I feel stronger and my biceps, triceps, quadriceps, hamstrings, calves, chest, back and glutes are all thanking me. Up till a few days ago, my left shoulder was singing my praises as well but then something went wonky.
There’s one exercise called the lateral raise where I pull 5-pound weights up to the sides, so that my arms are level. I think that’s what did me in (momentarily). Last week I could do less weight on that one than previously, which I suppose should have been a red flag. I guess moderation and caution are not my middle names.
It hurts when I’ve tried to lift my left arm to shoulder level. I can only imagine what I’d feel if I had a dumbbell hanging off the end of it. So no lateral raise, thank you. I thought of the chest press machine and figured that was worth a go. My hands were on the handles ready to push forward at a far lower weight than before. I brought my energy to fierceness. Ten seconds to go . “Explode, Bruce!” I pushed … and nothing happened. The handles didn’t budge. My mouth dropped open. For a few seconds, the horror of it all washed over me but then I watched that fade towards peace. A minute later, I was smiling. What an elusive creature this human body is. A motion that I never think twice about suddenly becomes impossible. It’s humbling.
I also can’t swing a golf club, and that’s something I so much want to do. It’s strange how last week I dreaded hitting a shank, where the shaft of the club hits the ball, sending the little white guy veering way off to the right. Now I’d love to shank the ball or do anything else to it but the clubs are staying in my golf bag for awhile.
I changed course yesterday, mostly doing leg exercises at the gym, and walking several holes at Tarandowah. I put myself in those places and did what I could. No way is that joint at the top of my arm going to dictate my well-being. That’s my job.