Kriss Kross will make ya…

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Jump Jump!

Maybe I should apologize for writing that because I know all of us now have that song stuck.

It could be worse. Eyes slanted at a certain awful Miley Cyrus song.

Anywho. I got on the elevator at work the other day with a kid and his mother. As the door closed, the kid handed his mom his Sprite and his mom started laughing. He bent his knees and as soon as the elevator started moving, he JUMPED and started laughing too.

I smiled. I remember doing the same thing in elevators when I was little but had completely forgotten that.

They got off on the floor before mine. As the doors closed and I found myself alone for the ride to the third floor, I laughed and bent my knees.

As soon as the elevator dinged my floor, I too jumped. And my feet barely left the floor. The door opened and nobody was there so I jumped again. And again.

Three jumps. No air.

What?

I walked to my office stewing.

Since I’m one to beat a dead horse, I thought about it until I got home that night. Since when can I not jump? All of those ballet lessons where I used to FLY. All of those 5Ks I ran. I mean, RA certainly has me jumping through hoops; it doesn’t seem right that it would take away my ability to jump for myself.

Ri-dic-u-lous. As in ridiculous that I couldn’t do it, ridiculous that I was obsessed with it, and ridiculous that I’m writing about it now.

I got home and found myself barefoot in the kitchen. I held on to the counter, bent my knees, and jumped.

A little better. I tried jumping just on my right leg. A lot better. Switch to the left- tentative but getting there. I felt my body’s defense mechanisms kicking in, protecting the healing ankle sprain and permanent erosions on the ball of that foot.

Aaaahhhh. This makes sense now.

Ever the obsessive persistent patient, I found my tennis shoes and headed back to my lovely kitchen support counter.

Supported jumping commenced. Both feet, right foot, left foot.

Grand finale: unsupported sneaker jump in the kitchen. I didn’t jump high because I respect my body’s right to protect itself but…I was able to do it.

So why am I detailing my jumping madness for you all to read? Because the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that these little albeit highly modified victories are incredibly crucial to all of our morales. I feel just a little more in control of myself for engaging my own internal stubborn, obsessive insanity.

So yeah…

The Daddy Mac will make ya…

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6 responses »

  1. I’m sorry to hear your jumper is out of whack… but I had to post (and I am always a reader and never a poster) because last weekend I had a similar incident when I had to jump onto a 4-foot high fence and was unable to do so.

    I wish I could say my need to leap onto the fence was for an exciting escape from a charging bull or a wildcat but, alas, I’d left my gate-clicker on the other side of the fence along with my keys. But I was thinking, “No problem, I’m a former gymnast; not only can I get up on this fence, but gracefully too.” Not. No, I mean, NOT!!! I two hops and a spring and no luck. I backed up and took a little run at it. No luck. I tried hoisting one leg up like swinging up onto a horse. No luck. I thought, “Since when did I lose my spring and my agility and strength such that I can’t do what I used to.”

    So, I ended up dragging myself up onto the fence with both arms and legs…but once there, I was surefooted to scamper along the edge to the other side and slide down by the seat of my pants. Gone are the days of a glorious dismount! I’m sure the whole event would net me a 4 for technical merit and a negative-3 for artistic expression!

    This whole business of agility demise is the most annoying part of RA. I can live with the occasional flares, the fatigue, the remembering to set up my med box each week. But it’s the reminder from out of the blue of the person I used to be no longer being me is what gets depressing.

    Thank you for your post.

  2. My jumper hasn’t worked for 4 decades – the same with my hop. How often do people say “Hop on over” without thinking. I was never gymnast or athletic – I enjoy a good brisk sit – but knowing it is not working or only minimally is as Jackie said – gets depressing. Part of it is my responsibility because I don’t really stretch or improve my flexibility – exercise = work. The only activity that is fun is swimming.

    Congratulations on being able to jump – little victories mean so much.

  3. Thanks for the laugh today! And, yes, we need to be sure to celebrate and enjoy any small achievement and ability. There may come a day when we lose that ability … and not every loss is due to RA, sometimes it is just life and aging!

    • You are very welcome! If we don’t laugh about it, we will go nuts. There is a funny side to it, just hard to see sometimes. I have been dealing with my Mom and her dementia, there are even funny things, especially things she says. Usually it is out of left field and I am learning not to look for the logic, it isn’t logical very often.

  4. I’m about to test my jumping ability. Do you remember the lemon twist? The thing you put your foot into, with a lemon on the end of a rope and you had to get the thing going and hop over the lemon? Well, my 6 year old got the new aged version of the lemon twist, at school this week, and she can’t wait for me to show her how to do it. I will admit, I’m terribly afraid I will hurt myself, so I’ve been putting her off in hopes the contraption disappears. My knees and feet are my worse enemies right now, and the thought of jumping hurts to even think about. I’m glad you were able to get your jumper going!

  5. That’s so great! I remember as a kid jumping and trying to see if I could touch the ceiling. I had forgtotten all about it until we moved into our new home and the kids started jumping and trying to touch the ceiling. I started jumping with them and it was so much fun! I can’t jump like I used to, but sometimes it’s just fun to be a kid again.

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