[Image credit: dan]

I’ve never been an athletic person.  Always the last kid picked in gym class, I was relieved when wearing a back brace kept me from participating in contact sports for three years.  During the annual President’s Award challenge, I barely performed the minimum requirements.  Over three decades later I’m leg pressing more than my body weight at the gym, executing “real” push-ups and training for a sprint triathlon with my first race in April.  Unfortunately, last night when I was less than a quarter-mile from home after a 3 1/2 mile run, after checking for traffic, I lost my balance and propelled myself off the curb and into the street — my phone and ear buds flying, ankle twisting and both knee and hand making contact with the pavement.  Although I’m hoping the on-and-off icing and Ibuprofen nipped the worst in the bud, I may need to mentally prepare myself to postpone my plans, whether the race or the triathlon, or even my dreams for Someday.  Because it just might be the healing time I need rather than manipulating the outcome I desire.  And wherever I end up, I’d rather arrive limp-free.

How patient are you when your plans are sidetracked or derailed?