This morning’s snowfall is a really great metaphor for things not going according to expectations: it’s spring, nice weather has arrived, flowers are growing, and then it snows. All the beautiful things we’re growing are blanketed in chill. Everything we’ve been working so hard on is put on pause.
And yet.
We really should see this coming. It seems to happen every year. It should be part of our planning.
It should be something we welcome. But it’s really hard, especially in a year with so many things being put on hold.
I struggle so much with setbacks. Every part of me wants to push on and forward and always be improving. I try to remind myself that it’s important to stop and let things settle in. It helps to take a break to allow it all to come together.
More than that, I need to pause to regroup, recalibrate, and restore my energy.
I’ve shared on social media that I hurt my back last week. It’s an annoying old injury that I’ve been dealing with since I was 12. I tend to re-twig it every couple of years. I’m extremely cautious and careful with my back whenever I’m exercising or lifting heavy things. It’s always when I let my guard down that I get hurt. This time, it happened while unloading the dishwasher.
I didn’t see it coming, but I really should expect it by now. I tend to hurt this same spot every couple years, usually in the spring.
Because I’ve had it happen before, I should be able to remind myself that it doesn’t last. That it won’t feel like this forever. But still, it feels like a major setback. I’ve been on a wellness journey since late November of 2019 and I’m so afraid of losing momentum. I haven’t missed a calendar week of running in over a year. I’ve done yoga every day this year. I’m scared of going back to how things were before.
And yet.
If I push things too quickly, I’m likely to lose more time, more likely to have more permanent damage.
So, I’m leaning in to it. Resting. A lot. Heat packs. Stretching. I’m still doing yoga—very, very, gentle yoga—and I’m still moving every day, even if it’s getting 10,000 steps in my home and around the yard walking the dogs. This is the first day I’ve been able to sit at the table and type.
Progress is slow—but it usually is. And it’s worth taking the time. My back will heal. I’ll get back out running. I’ll get back to more full-body yoga. And soon enough I’ll be swimming, too. By taking care of myself now, on this cozy morning, I’m ensuring I’ll be well enough to enjoy those things again soon.
Because the sun will come back out. The snow will melt. And spring will carry on bursting around us, exploding with blooms and colour. We may lose a few flowers, but the garden will be full come summer anyway. We just have to be patient.