alex chiang: web 6.0

As I learned from my high school wrestling coach, an archetypal warrior-poet, there is quite a distinction between injured and being hurt. Back then we were all hurt, all the time, but that was par for the course. You expected to train, train hard, get hurt while training, and then keep training even harder. And you took pride in knowing that you were the toughest SOB on the face of the planet because you could continue to push yourself past the breaking point of most men even while you were hurt.

Injury was a different story. If you were injured, you were expected to take time off and heal and get better so you could return to the pantheon of men and charge back into battle. Injury was not taken lightly, it was a serious thing, and rest was important. All the same, you felt a secret shame and deep frustration at not being able to suffer along with your brethern, and you chomped at the bit to get back into the fray, even while grimacing in agony.

I’m older and wiser and mellowed out now, but old habits die hard. Injury sucks. I hate the feeling of lethargy, the dullness of inactivity that rest entails. Rehabbing my shoulder is boring and tedious and completely necessary so I do it, but I hate the fact that I’m injured in the first place.

I just want to climb. Or play ultimate. Or anything. Ugh.