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Welcome to Sync & Thrive, the bi-weekly newsletter helping couples strengthen their relationship through shared health. Every Friday, we share real-life reflections and actionable insights. If you were forwarded this message, sign up here.
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đ Welcome back Ladies and Gents,
âYou Need a Beautiful and Painful Reckoningâ â Tim Ferriss
Most ruts do not arrive with a warning. They build so slowly you almost don't notice, until something stops you cold enough to finally look. For me, that something was a game of tag.
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Table of Contents
How did a game of tag land me in the ER and help me realize I was stuck?
Last Saturday night, I was running around the kitchen island playing tag with our friend's kids. One second I was fine. The next, I felt a sharp pain shoot through my right leg.
I could have sworn someone had thrown a hard ball at my calf. It felt that real. I spun around and said, âHey, who threw a ball at me?â The kid behind me looked around the room, then at his friend, then back at me like I had lost it. He finally pointed at a tiny speck on the floor and offered, âMaybe it was this?â
By the time we got home, I was laughing (replaying the cartoon-like facial expression of a child in utter confusion) and crying (because I tore my calf muscle and it hurt). My family thought that I had lost it. Maybe perimenopause was upon me all of a sudden.
Between the tears, laughter and concern as to how something like a simple game of tag would bring me to this painful moment I was now experiencing, there was more on my mind.
With little reassurance from Gemini and the advice nurse on call, a few hours later, we were in the ER to get some answers.
Turns out there is a name for what happened: tennis leg. A torn calf muscle from a sudden push-off, the kind of injury that convinces you something hit you when nothing did.
Five days later, I am still on crutches, keeping the weight off that calf. But there is something else that keeps coming to mind as I recover:
There was no ball. No impact. Nothing to point to. It was just one of those freak moments, and it forced me to stop.
And when I stopped, I realized I had been stuck in another way too. The newsletter had gone quiet.
