Everyday Dirtbag Entry #114.

The other night, while climbing in my garage, I felt a little pop in my right forearm.  Not an explosion, not a torn muscle or a blown tendon, but a little pop.  Something weird.  Something scary.  And my forearm didn’t feel right afterward.

I stopped climbing.  Drank some water.  Went to bed.

In the middle of the night, my arm throbbed so badly that I woke up.

It felt like I’d heated a screwdriver on the stove and shoved it into my forearm just below the elbow.

I was worried in the morning.  Took Advil (which I hate to do).  Babied my right arm.  Did every task I could with my left hand.

Didn’t climb for three whole days.

Then I got really nervous.  What if this was serious?  What if I couldn’t climb for a week, a month, a year?

I know.  I’m too extreme.

And it worked out fine.

On the forth day, I climbed lightly in the garage.  The next day at school.  The third day back in the garage.  Then hard today.

And I’m back.

I was envisioning reconstructive surgery, but maybe I’m paranoid.

Or maybe I love this thing too much.

Is that even possible?

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