Confidence In Flesh.
I lack confidence in my knee, but maybe confidence isn’t the right word.
From the moment we’re born, flailing and unable, we begin to learn how our bodies behave. Coordinating intended movements with the physical responses of limbs in space we map out our bodily capacities. Through the statistically valid lens of experiences we can make fairly accurate predictions about how we might behave in hypothetical situations.
That doesn’t look very painful. I could probably jump from here. I can make it to the top of this hill. If I don’t turn back soon I won’t be able to get home.
Now, with pins removed, I can begin the process of returning flexibility to my knee. Essentially, I need to stretch my knee painfully and repeatedly until my range of motion returns to what it was. The tendons and ligaments in my leg have become tight and stubborn over the past few months and I need to persuade them to open up.
The second time I injured my knee it was by suddenly putting all of my weight onto my leg in a bent position. Instead of stretching to accommodate this motion, the fibers of flesh within my leg snapped inelastic and pulled my knee cap apart. In order to avoid the possibility of such a break occurring again, I need to slowly and carefully stretch my leg, over the course of several weeks, to regain as much flexibility as I can. But I can’t help but worry while I do so.
Laying on my back I lift my leg and let the weight of my foot and calf bend the knee slightly downward, causing mild discomfort in an around my knee. I worry. Instead of being able to look to reliable data and experiences of how much stress my body can tolerate, I am forcefully plotting the border between the regions of mild discomfort and catastrophic material failure. It wouldn’t take much to overshoot the strengths of my knee in its current condition, but it won’t improve unless I vigorously press it to do so.