I was trying to beat a record from a couple of weeks back and pushed harder on a final rep than I really should have and seem to have pulled something in my trap. I’ve pulled things in my trap plenty of times before, usually pushing myself too hard on the bench press, because it’s a lift that’s easy to get tied up in your ego about, big pecs being all desirable and such. I initially thought it was an exercise-induced migraine but after a night’s sleep it’s squarely resolved into the muscle. I hate getting injured even as I recognize that it’s a fact of the weightlifter’s life. I hate taking time off; I’m awful at resting, even as I castigate myself for laziness. I’m trying to get better about treating myself with tender generosity and so forth, but old habits die hard. When I’m injured I have a tendency to poke and obsess at it, which of course does nothing to speed along the healing, which is best accomplished in my experience but the aforementioned tender generosity. I think the part that’s hardest about getting injured, which I do like to think I’m getting better at, is recognizing that your plans for the future are always conditional and that you can’t grow too attached to them. That you have to accept that this is now where your body is at, rather than pushing hard to get back to the reality you thought you had before the injury. I’m the kind of person who gets very committed to plans, and it’s hard to give those up—or rather to allow them the grace and flexibility to adjust to the reality of what I can do.

Anyway, I’m taking a few days off. Going to go for a walk today; it’s beautiful and hot out and it’s the last taste of summer we may get for a bit.