My First Official 'War Wound' of the Adventure

The gloves are helping. I had a rather slow morning of seeing my cousins off before dawn, doing a little domestic hospitality for my beloved, then reading the paper, which actually turned into an unintended nap. I awoke with the sensation of needing to move, so I donned my gym clothes and meandered onto the track at the gym. It was nice to walk and listen to the Harmonizer. I eased into one of the mountain-climbing machines for a little cardio play. And then I put on my gloves to see what the bar felt like today.

I could still feel a bit of the soreness from the last bar workout, but my mental baggage is much lighter. I did a couple of the jump-holds. I moved over to the tri-cept handles to see what the core muscles felt like. And then I wondered whether I could simply jump up to the highest bar and see what that felt like.

I reached the bar without too much hassle. First grip wasn’t quite thorough enough, so I released and looked up again. Aim for a little more ‘toast’ in the jump, as my soccer-coach used to say. “We don’t want Melba toast! Texas toast preferred.” I jumped up and felt the grip I’d hoped. I swayed a little, focusing on the grip. I hung for a bit, stilling the swing, then began to play with a little of the preparatory swing Natalie taught me a couple weeks back. I felt a flash of fear about my shoulders, but focused on the back-muscles and core muscles. I widened my hips in my mind, and allowed the legs to reach out a bit more, with more extension. Hands grew weary, so I released, to rest again. Another jump up, and I felt I ‘had’ it—nice grip, felt-sense of confidence about muscles’ firing, and I found myself smiling. I swung a bit back and forth. Released, repeat. This is much more fun, I thought to myself. I also am remembering to listen to the weariness that’s the natural by-product of these muscles exerting themselves. It’s no longer an “I can’t do that” but a “I can do this a few times and then I get too tired to be sure of my form” kind of thing.

One more jump, just because I can, and I felt my ring for the first time. “I forgot I had my wedding ring on!” I heard inside.  I relinquished the hold, looked down at my left hand, and felt light-headed with shock.

My ring finger was blood-red, on the outside, unlike any of my other fingers. “Oh shit,” I said aloud. I pulled off my glove, saw it was bright red above the wedding ring, and in a panic, wiggled off the wedding ring, half-expecting excruciating pain for moving it over the joint. Nothing. No pain. I sat down, so as not to pass out. “What in the world…?!”

I have my first official ‘war wound’ of the adventure! I guess I have to wear my wedding ring on my pinky-finger or not at all, as many blood vessels  must have burst with the jump-and-hang play at the high bar. Confirmation from my physician-father assures me it’s a surface thing, and not to worry. Natalie too. All is well, though my finger looks horrid. I wonder if it will turn bruise/blue next?

Next time, I’ll remember to take off the wedding ring.