Five Minute Friday Link-Up :: Pace

Today I’m joining a talented group of writers at Five Minute Friday. This community connects each Friday in an online, unedited free-write based on a one-word prompt. My timer is set for 5 minutes. Let’s see where this week’s prompt—PACE—leads me.

pace, patience,

The word “pace” has many meanings:

  • The timing of music and the necessity for all to keep the same pace;
  • The pace car that keeps everyone at the same speed until the gun goes off to start the race;
  • The beat of your heart has a pace;
  • The runner has a pace to win, breathe, relax;
  • A mother has a certain pace depending on where she is in her day;
  • So many other meanings that I don’t have time to list.

I’ve always walked at a fairly fast pace. In the last few months, I’ve earned that isn’t my normal pace any longer. The work I’m doing with my physical therapist is my road to getting back to my normal pace. However, for now, my pace is something new and irritating. It’s slower than I’m accustomed to.

Granted it’s getting faster by the day, but for me, it’s not fast enough. When that happens and I sit and brood, the pace of the rest of me slows down. I get depressed and frustrated. I have only one pace left at that time.

I invite God to come and sit beside me, and I ask him to teach me patience and acceptance. He chuckles. God reminds me, “Sherrey, I’ve been trying to teach you patience all your life.” And He’s right—He has.

So, I smile and tell myself to pace myself. Take what comes a day at a time, one step at a time, and one day I’ll find myself walking like I always did.

 

Feature Image Attribution:

Manfred Antranias Zimmer from Pixabay

Daily Walk

 

I love to walk outdoors, and a daily walk is one of my goals in recovery. Part of my daily physical therapy assignment is a 30-minute walk using a walker. Today my therapist added six minutes per day twice daily walking with a cane. Not to mention all the other exercises she has me doing. None of this happens outdoors. Yet.
 

interior hallway

 
 
Some days I’ve hosted pity parties for myself. Exercising can be tough during recovery. Working to restore strength, nerve communication, and flexibility to a limb isn’t easy. It gets old day in and day out. And then I feel sorry for myself.
 
Today I had a wakeup call while at the clinic. My therapist and I were walking a circuit around the perimeter of the equipment area. We came upon a man, in his early 40s, working hard to walk. To walk, he was using robotic prosthetics to move his legs. It was unclear whether a stroke or an accident the many visible physical deficits.
 
My emotions ran from sympathy and sorrow for him. Yet, his determination inspired me to work harder. I felt gratitude for the fact that at least I can work both legs on my own despite the weakness in one. Maybe those pity parties are a thing of the past.

gratitude

 

Image attributions:

Feature Image: Image by Mabel Amber, still incognito… from Pixabay 
Top: Bigger Than the Three of Us
Bottom (Graphics): PictureQuotes
Bottom (Quote):
Ann Voskamp