im·pinge [im-pinj] verb, im·pinged
to encroach; infringe (usually followed by on or upon ): to impinge on another’s rights.
What impingement means to me is six weeks on the bench and physical therapy. There’s a whole mess of duct tape and dreams holding a shoulder together. In our society today, so much time is spent hunched over a keyboard that certain posturing muscles are neglected.
So, as it would be: Muscle negligence + CrossFit = Impingement. At least in my case.
I’ve been advised to not even run because the arm swing could irritate good ol’ lefty. At first I was happy to have the 4.5 hours back from my thrice-weekly CrossFitting. But then I thought about it. There are 168 hours in a week. Sixty of those are spent sleeping and another 40 are spent at work. That leaves 68 hours of unaccounted time.
On what, exactly, am I spending those 68 hours? Perhaps the answer to why the return of those 4.5 hours is so important lies within that very question.
So, I’m going to track my time and figure it out. I can only hope that these numbers will do for me what seeing the nutritional information for red meat did for my diet [insert dry heave here.]
Hard lessons about the value of time have been learned – again – in the last year. Why the hell would I waste even a moment of those 68 hours??
reducerenewrecycle 