#sports injury

[aceofwhump]

Jamie Tartt injured in Ted Lasso 3x11

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1346

Anon asked:

Any ideas for an athlete whumpee? Specifically a sprinter who constantly pushes herself harder than she should, much to the frustration of her sister and partner.

Love your prompts btw! <3

Thank you for the kind words! I have a few ideas for you:

TW: Mentions of substance abuse:

Your stubborn sprinter probably ignores signs of injury/strain. Maybe a huge competition is coming up and they cannot afford to rest. The relentless training could lead to a serious setback if they’re not careful.

Because of this over training, the whumpee becomes agitated, and this affects their relationships. Maybe they’re more on edge because of the pain they’re in, or they’re just so focussed on the goal, they they lose sight on what’s important.

Do the supporting characters hold an intervention-of-sorts? At which the whumpee storms out after a heated argument claiming “Fine, I’ll do it on my own!”

Does the whumpee abuse things like supplements and steroids? This could affect their body in more ways than one.

Going back to the relationship theme: the constant pressure to perform strains the relationships as the sister and partner struggle to communicate their concerns and the whumpee begins to resent their interference.

However, sooner or later the sprinter has a huge competition while dealing with an injury/the consequences of overtraining. They’re torn between the desire to prove themselves and the need to prioritize their health. After vowing to stop interfering, the partner/sister sit back to watch the train wreck.

The real question is, do they collapse before, during or after the event? For added angst, they could have a moment before the event that they nearly do, but have to push on for the sake of their ego.

When the collapse inevitably happens, the sprinter reflects on their choices and realizes the toll the overtraining has taken on their body, leading to a moment of regret and self-awareness.

After the whumpee has pushed them away, how willing are the caretakers to help them get back on their feet?

[critter-casey]

“Let's Play” (digital illustration) — CW

[chicgeekgirl89]

The One Where Carlos Can’t Leave the Couch

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Paul Strickland, Andrea Reyes

Summary: Carlos is stuck at home with an injured ankle and bored out of his mind. Fortunately he has some good friends and family to take care of him.

Rating: G

Read on AO3

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Carlos glances around the living room and has to fight the urge to laugh. The coffee table holds a glass of water, a cup of coffee, and a bottle of Gatorade along with the television remote, his laptop, the book he’s been reading, another book in case he finishes the first one, and his reading glasses, as well as his cell phone, a stack of magazines, some snacks, and a box of tissues. 

There are also three types of over the counter pain medication and multiple sticky notes with detailed instructions on dosages and timing, as if Carlos is incapable of reading the directions on a bottle of Tylenol by himself.

And between the coffee table and the couch is a small cooler full of ice, which he has been told to use when the bag of ice currently on his massively swollen ankle melts.

If he’s missing something he’ll need for the next twelve hours, they clearly don’t own it.

Joining a rec soccer league had seemed like a fun way to make some new friends and get out some of the frustrations that work had been handing him lately. And it had been very fun, for about five minutes, until another player had collided with him, taking them both to the ground and wrenching Carlos’ ankle so badly that both he and T.K. had thought for sure it was broken. 

The x-rays had proven otherwise, it was just the mother of all sprains, and while it was currently purple and swollen to twice its normal size, it would heal.

“Babe, it’s a sprained ankle, not a stab wound or major surgery,” Carlos says.

T.K. chews his lip. “Maybe I should take the day off.”

“I promise you, I will be fine.”

“What if someone comes to the door?” T.K. asks.

“I’ll pretend I’m not home.”

“What if you get hungry?”

“Because I’ve eaten through every, single snack you’ve left me?” Carlos looks pointedly at the three types of cheese, box of crackers, bowl of fruit, and the pile of granola bars sitting between his water and the remote. “Then we have bigger problems.”

T.K. sighs and runs a hand through his hair in agitation. “You’ll take your phone with you when you go to the bathroom?”

“Yes. If I fall down and re-enact a Lifeline commercial you will be my first call,” Carlos teases.

T.K. is not amused. “Carlos, I’m serious, twelve hours is a long time, if something happens—“

“T.K.” Carlos draws out the first letter of his boyfriend’s name in exasperation. “Nothing is going to happen. When your shift is over you’re going to come home and find me exactly where you left me. Bored out of my mind and perfectly unharmed.”

T.K. fidgets and doesn��t say anything for a long minute. 

“Tell me what you’re worried about,” Carlos requests.

T.K. looks like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I have just come to learn that sometimes, you cannot be trusted to make good judgements about your own health.”

Carlos’ jaw drops at this statement, but his boyfriend isn’t done. “And I’m a little concerned that by hour three or four you might decide that you are capable of cleaning the bathroom or reorganizing the closet and I’m worried that you might push yourself too hard,” he says.

“Shot. Kidnapped and concussed. Hypothermic coma.” Carlos lists off T.K.’s recent injuries in rapid fire, ticking them off on his fingers as he goes.

“We’re talking about you, not me,” T.K. says, brushing off the jab. “Do you promise to stay on this couch unless you’re going to the bathroom?”

“Oh my god, please go to work.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“I already said I would!”

“And if you need something and you can’t get ahold of me you’ll call your parents?”

“Yes,” Carlos says, his voice going low with annoyance. “I will call in the cavalry if I can’t reach my Gatorade.”

T.K. immediately bends over to push the bottle closer to him and Carlos rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s smotherly care. “You’re going to be late.”

T.K. puts his hands on his hips sighs. “Okay. Fine. I will…see you in twelve hours.”

He bends over and kisses Carlos’ curls, running a hand quickly over his stubbly cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Carlos says as he heads for the door. “Be safe!”

The door slides shut and Carlos is blissfully alone. He loves T.K. to the ends of the earth and back, but when the man flips on paramedic mode, he is exhausting. Carlos would much prefer dealing with his pain all on his own. 

He flicks on the TV and scrolls through a few channels before realizing he’s not really in the mood for anything that’s on. His book holds his interest for a little bit, but then it hits a lag so he sets that aside too. 

Mindlessly scrolling through his phone takes up some time, he likes every photo and video he comes across, buys a pair of workout shorts that are advertised to him, and watches several videos about planting indoor herb gardens.

He finally wrenches himself away from the internet and looks down at his watch, thinking it must be lunchtime by now and instead finds that only forty-five minutes have passed since T.K. walked out the door. 

Shit.

He eyes the linen closet from across the room and wonders how truly mad T.K. will be if he gets up and sorts through some things. He can sit on the floor while he does it and elevate his ankle…

He can make it work.

He swings his good leg down to the floor and reaches for the crutches that are propped against the arm rest of the couch. Using one as leverage he starts to slide his left leg off the pile of pillows that have been propping it up and immediately hisses in pain as the mild throbbing in his ankle rockets up to a hard and fast six on the pain scale. 

He grits his teeth and sinks back down into the couch cushions. Okay. Maybe T.K. was right. No closet cleaning for him today.

His phone vibrates and he looks down to see a text from T.K.

Still on the couch?

He snaps a selfie giving him a thumbs up and sends it. Yes.

Still here. Still here and…very bored. 

He reaches for the remote again, he might as well at least have some background noise for his boredom, and when he does he accidentally knocks over his water, which immediately soaks through the stack of magazines and starts heading for his book. “Damn it!” 

Carlos reaches out to try and right the glass before even more liquid can spill, but it’s just a little too far, forcing him to lean further…

He feels the moment that his equilibrium shifts and there’s literally nothing he can do as he begins to slide off the couch. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

He flails, trying to twist himself in a way that will cause the least amount of damage, and his ass hits the floor with a loud, painful thump, followed swiftly by the rest of his upper body.

His bad leg is the only thing that manages to say on the couch, but it is still shockingly painful and he lies there on the floor, trapped between the sofa and the coffee table, for a good, solid two minutes as he waits for the pain to subside to a more tolerable level.

There’s a knock at the door and then it slides open and Carlos has a brief moment of panic that they’re about to be burgled and not only can’t he defend himself or their home, but he’s also in literally the most embarrassing position ever. He’s not sure if it’s better or worse when the voice that calls out to him is familiar. “Carlos?”

“Paul?” His confused reply comes out a little more strained and whimper-y than he’d like.

“Are you—oh shit!”

He feels Paul’s arms slide under his armpits. “Come on, I got you,” the firefighter says, lifting him back onto the couch.

Carlos lets his head flop back against the multiple pillows T.K. shoved behind his back before leaving (this is in addition to the three under his ankle, he honestly didn’t even know they owned this many pillows) and takes a minute to catch his breath. His ass is now throbbing along with his ankle. Perfect.

“Dude are you all right?” Paul is looking at him as if he’s about three seconds away from calling 911 or T.K., neither of which will help Carlos’ damaged ego.

“I’m fine,” he says between gritted teeth as he leans forward and adjusts the ice that has slipped off his ankle. “I was just trying to clean up.”

“I got it,” Paul says, heading to the kitchen where he grabs a roll of paper towels and mops up the giant mess Carlos has created. 

He holds up the ruined magazines and quirks an eyebrow in question. Carlos shakes his head. “Toss ‘em.”

“Got it,” Paul says, throwing the sopping wet pile in the garbage before reaching into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “Seems like a safer option.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says, unable to shake off the embarrassment of this whole situation. “Did T.K. send you here to spy on me?”

“He did not,” Paul says, settling into a chair. “I offered to come by because he was clocking in when we were clocking out and he wouldn’t shut up about having to leave you here alone all day and how worried he was about you.” Paul pauses, a look of understanding coming over his face. “And now I am realizing that I was manipulated into coming over here.”

Carlos nods. “He’s very good at that. It’s the wounded puppy dog eyes.”

“Yeah, damn,” Paul says, still looking a little surprised at how easily he fell for T.K.’s plan. “Even still, seems like it’s a good thing I came by.”

“I would have gotten myself up eventually,” Carlos says, feeling prickly about being labeled an invalid.

“Yeah, I’m sure you would have,” Paul says and, to his credit, it seems sincere. 

“Don’t tell T.K., okay?” Carlos asks. “He’s already smothering me, I don’t need him to know about this.”

“Pretty sure he’s going to notice the giant bruise on your ass,” Paul says skeptically. “But I won’t say a word.”

They spend some time talking about baseball, Paul’s shift, a trip to New York that Carlos and T.K. are taking next month. Hopefully his ankle will be healed up by then because the thought of crutching down city blocks doesn’t sound pleasant at all. 

Paul stays for a couple hours, making sure to replenish Carlos’ snack supply after they eat, and then Carlos grudgingly asks for his help getting to the bathroom. It is definitely easier to have someone help him work his way across the loft, but god he hates needing assistance. 

It’s one o’clock when Paul leaves, and while Carlos’ mood was buoyed by the visit, he quickly finds himself sinking back into boredom, the hours passing by at a glacial pace. He fields frequent texts from T.K., sending responses that indicate he’s fine, he’s happy, he’s doing great, instead of telling the truth; which is that his back hurts and his butt has gone numb, and his face itches from his beard growing in. T.K. had offered to help him shave this morning, but Carlos had declined, and now he regrets is.

So he has really worked himself into a mood when there’s another knock on his door around 4:00pm. As it opens, Carlos wonders exactly how many people T.K. has given keys to, and then he hears, “Hola Carlitos!” and the sourness of his mood immediately changes to alarm.

“Mom?”

“Ay, my poor baby.” She comes around the side of the couch and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “How is your pain? Do you need more ice?”

“Mom what are you doing here?” Carlos asks.

“I’m going to make you pozole. Do you have a stock pot?”

She moves to the kitchen before he can answer, dropping her giant bag of groceries on the counter and searching through his cabinets.

“Mom, I’m fine, you don’t have to cook for me,” Carlos tells her, even though she’s already found a cutting board and a chopping knife and is pulling garlic, chiles, pork, and hominy out of her bag.

“Oh, I don’t need to cook for you? What are you going to do, cook from that couch?” She clucks her tongue and shakes her head as she begins filling his stockpot with water. “All you have had all day is cheese and crackers, you need real food to help you heal.”

“Did T.K. put you up to this?” Carlos asks. 

She stops chopping and fixes him with a stern look. “I am your mother. T.K. does not need to ‘put me up’ to anything.” She picks up a clove of garlic and begins mincing. “But yes, he and I did discuss this last night.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. Of course his boyfriend is in cahoots with his mother, even though he specifically asked his fiancé to downplay his injury for this exact reason. He doesn’t need his mom worrying and fussing.

Although the pozole does smell damn good. His stomach lets out a loud growl. Traitor.

His mom chatters at him as she cooks, talking about his sister Teresa’s new job, his nephew Diego’s soccer game, and the cattle his father is getting for the ranch. It’s comforting and warm, a reminder of his childhood, and it does, maybe, kind of, make him feel just a little bit better.

Not that he’s going to admit that to anyone. 

They eat an early dinner together and then she packs up enough soup to feed his dad and leaves the rest for him and T.K. “Are you sure you’re all right if I leave?” she asks fretfully, brushing his curls out of his face and fussing with his pillows like he’s a child. “I can stay until T.K. comes home.”

It’s almost an exact repeat of his conversation with T.K. this morning and he snorts out a laugh. “Mom, I’m fine. He’ll be home in like three hours. I’m fed, watered, and comfortable. You can go to your book club with a clear conscience.”

She gives him a hard, ‘mom’ look, the one she uses to get the absolute truth out of her children. He must pass the test because her face softens and she leans forward to kiss his forehead. “You be more careful next time you play fútbol.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says quietly.

She pats his cheek and rises. “And be nice to T.K. That boy doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your bad attitude.”

“I don’t have a bad attitude,” he says defensively.

“Oh mi amor, you are a bear when you are hurt,” she says with a chuckle. “I just hope T.K. still wants to marry you when all of this is over.”

“Mom!” he says in annoyance.

“What? It’s true! You need to be more self aware,” she tells him as she gathers her things. “Call if you need anything!”

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The relief T.K. feels when his front door comes into sight is palpable. He’s nearly an hour later than he should be, a last minute call put them on over time, and the anxiety that’s been gnawing at his stomach all day long finally begins to fade as he inserts his key into the lock.

He can smell pozole in the air as soon as he walks in and it makes his mouth water. He’d asked Andrea to come take care of Carlos, but it doesn’t hurt that he’s going to reap the benefits of her cooking too.

Carlos is asleep on the couch, glasses on, head tipped back, mouth slightly open, his breathing deep. The last of T.K.’s worry slips away as he smiles and quietly drops his bag before crouching next to his boyfriend, running his fingers gently through Carlos’ unruly curls. “Hey baby,” he says quietly.

Carlos opens his eyes and blinks owlishly up at T.K. “Hey,” he says back, clearing his throat and wincing as he adjusts his position on the couch. “How was your shift?”

“Oh you know, the usual level of crazy,” T.K. says. “How are you?”

Carlos squints at him. “Don’t you already know? I assume you asked Paul and my mom for a full report.”

Busted. But he doesn’t care. Watching Carlos go down on that field and not get up again had taken at least a year off of his life. He’s allowed to be overly concerned. “Yes, I did, but now I’m asking you,” he says, fingers trailing soothingly through Carlos’ curls again. “How’s your pain?”

Carlos looks down at his ankle. “Better I guess? A little?”

“Actually better? Or you just don’t want me to be worried, better?” 

“I don’t know,” Carlos says with a sigh. 

“Okay,” T.K. relents. He knows how much Carlos hates being down; staying home all day and doing nothing is just not his style. “Why don’t we get you into bed?”

“All I did was lie around all day,” Carlos grumbles. “I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

“Then we’ll just sit together. I can tell you about my day, and you can be mad at me for sending people to check up on you,��� he offers.

“I’m not mad at you,” Carlos says grudgingly. “I’m just…” He shrugs, looking bereft and sad. 

T.K. gives him a soft smile. “I know. But it’s just a couple weeks and then you’ll be back on your feet.” He nudges Carlos playfully. “Come on. You can’t tell me this is harder than tackling bad guys to the ground.”

Carlos opens his mouth, his face saying he’s going to contradict T.K.’s statement, but T.K. gently cuts him off. “It’s not,” he emphasizes. “Now come on. Bedtime for you.”

Carlos leans heavily on T.K.’s shoulder as they move across the living room. “You okay?” T.K. asks, and Carlos nods wordlessly, but his face is tight and T.K. can feel him holding his breath. “Almost there,” he says encouragingly. “Just a few more steps.”

He helps Carlos settle into the mattress and then goes back to grab all the extra pillows from the living room. “Easy,” he says as he gently lifts Carlos’ leg to put the pillows underneath. “Breathe,” he reminds him when he looks up to see Carlos’ face still tense with pain.

Carlos nods and gives a shaky exhale.

T.K. takes a few minutes to change his clothes and heat up a bowl of pozole before joining Carlos in bed. His body has finally relaxed and he already looks like he’s on his way back to sleep. “You didn’t need to send people to check up on me today,” he mumbles as T.K. settles on top of the covers, bowl balanced carefully in his hands.

“I thought you weren’t mad at me,” T.K. says.

Carlos cracks an eyelid. “I’m not mad. You just worry too much.”

“I worry too much?” T.K. asks in amusement. “Tell me Carlos, what hurts more right now? Your ankle or your ass?”

Carlos groans. “Paul said he wouldn’t tell you.”

“I can be very persuasive,” T.K. tells him with a smirk.

“Yes I know,” Carlos says, rolling his eyes.

T.K. sets the pozole on his nightstand and turns on his side to look at Carlos. “I would have told you about Paul and your mom coming over, but I knew you would be upset and make me cancel them. And I wouldn’t have listened and told them to come anyway, so I just skipped a few steps.” He puts a hand on Carlos’ chest and rubs a few soothing circles. “I love you. Taking care of you helps me to feel a little more in control of the situation. I can’t take away your pain, but if I can make it more bearable, that’s what I’m going to do. Whether you like it or not.”

He can feel Carlos relaxing further under his touch as he continues. “And, you should feel lucky. My first choice for a babysitter was Francesca, but she had to work all day.”

Carlos’ eyes pop fully open at the mention of his wild child sister. “Francesca was your first choice? What, Nurse Ratched wasn’t available?”

“I’m kidding,” T.K. says with a smile. “I would never trust Francesca with your medical care.”

“Thank god for that,” Carlos grumbles. “By the time she left I probably would have sprained my other ankle.”

“Hence my much more thoughtful choice of Paul and your mom.”

Carlos sends him a look. “You only called my mom so that you’d have dinner when you came home.”

T.K. feigns innocence. “I would never!”

Carlos snorts. “You absolutely would.”

“Not true,” T.K. says. “I called her because she’s your mom and I thought you might need some familial support. Dinner is just a bonus. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that pozole. I know it’s your favorite.” He pokes Carlos gently in the arm. 

“It is my favorite,” Carlos admits grudgingly.

T.K. leans over and gives him a peck on the cheek. “You’re welcome.”

They put on an episode of a new home renovation show while T.K. eats, and despite Carlos’ earlier protests about sleep, T.K. can see that he’s fading, eyes going heavy and half lidded.

T.K. sets his empty bowl on the floor next to the bed and Carlos cracks an eyelid. “Are you going to clean that up?”

T.K. resumes rubbing circles on Carlos’ chest. “I will take care of it in the morning.”

Carlos opens both eyes and looks at him pointedly. T.K. sighs at the obvious implication that his fiancé can’t sleep unless the entire apartment is clean. “I will take care of it before I go to bed.”

“Thank you,” Carlos tells him, eyes sliding closed again.

“You’re welcome,” T.K. tells him. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

[babylawyerruns]

Last few days of cross training / strength. I took Thursday and Friday off. Today was my first run post ankle sprain… it’s been four weeks so I thought I’d give it a test out. This didn’t feel excellent…. It’s still kind of wonky and like the muscles around it feel weak. Maybe I’ll try another short run later in the week?

[feral-and-chaotic]

The one thing I've noticed since becoming unable to walk, is that the most helpful, and friendly and least demeaning people have been disabled.

My wonderful friend offered me tips for dealing with pain, and Ibeprofen gel. My partner helped with disability aids. And even the friendly smiles and nods of solidarity have just helped.

God I'm scared about potentially not being able to walk properly again, and having to give up on some of my hobbies: hiking and cycling due to foot pain. The uncertainty is terrifying. It makes it hard to make definite plans and work out what I'm gonna do in the future. Whether the pain I'm feeling is permanent or not

But the fact that the disabled community is so Helpful and friendly makes me feel okay about it all. The idea that I could get a sports wheelchair and join in sports with such an awesome community has helped an insane amount. Everything people have done to educate about disabilities has also helped me with breaking down my own stigma about my body no longer cooperating.

So thank you all so much.

Also Fuck curb drops

[insufferable-yapper]

I think I severely injured my ankle during wrestling practice today but idk I have a tournament tomorrow and injury means no wrestle so I might just pretend like nothing is happening until after my tournament

[indigomarketing]

New Release Blitz: Ace of Hearts by Lucy Mason (Excerpt & Giveaway)

New Release Blitz: Ace of Hearts by Lucy Mason (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Ace of Hearts Author: Lucy Mason Publisher:  NineStar Press Release Date: 10/04/2022 Heat Level: 1 – No Sex Pairing: Male/Female Length: 60200 Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Romance, contemporary, new adult, family-drama, asexual, college students, sports injury, fake marriage, slow burn, friends to lovers, abusive father, depression Add to Goodreads Description Hesper Stalides and Felix…

[aceofwhump]

Hallmark’s Love on the Sidelines

Laurel is a struggling fashion designer who finds herself with a job as a personal assistant for Danny, a quarterback sidelined with an injury.

Starring John Reardon and Emily Kinney

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1265

Anon asked:

TW: Sports injuries

Maybe prompts for whump related to sports?? Could be an injury on the field/court, or even as far as the star athlete being poisoned or sabotaged by the other team.

I can give it a go!

You could start off with the 'aftermath' of the injury. Perhaps when the whumpee is in the hospital or at home. Maybe they've gone back to the place of the incident to work out what happened (maybe they're struggling with fever, and take it upon themselves to go back.)

The day started out normally, they had their usual breakfast and went about their warm ups. There was nothing that could have gone wrong...

But it did. It so unequivocally did, and now they're nursing injuries they may not recover from.

Maybe there's still bloodstains where it happened.

Maybe their whole life revolved around being the best, and now they're so setback they start to doubt their future - they have to learn to be something/someone else. (Or so they think)

I could imagine the whumpee to be quite emotional too - either just generally depressed or very angry at themselves.

Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was deliberate, but above all the whumpee blames themselves.

[kneehab]

three months

I hit twelve weeks post op on Monday (two days ago), and I had my first round of isokinetic strength testing yesterday, so lots to catch up on documenting.

First, all the good (and there is lots of good!):

I don’t think about my knee at all, except when I’m at PT, someone asks about it, or I’m trying a new exercise or something at a higher weight in the gym. It occupies very little space in my head on a day to day basis.

I have full and equal range of motion! I have been at full extension since day 1 thanks to me not having hyperextension and due to the leg brace being locked straight, but I hit full knee flexion (about 155 degrees for me) at 8.5 weeks post op, so just after my last update was written. I can also fully sit on my heels kneeling.

I’ve started swimming. Not a ton, but around the beaches in Washington (it’s been so hot) and even in a pool at a gym I got a day pass for.

I’m walking and cycling tons now, sometimes walking upwards of 20,000 steps a day, which feels great.

I tested essentially equally on my functional testing. That includes things like a Y-balance test, where a PT measures how far you can touch your toe while standing on one leg at a time, things like that.

I don’t have any more pain behind my knee when flexing my quad.

Swelling is basically gone. Occasionally after a hard gym day or a really long walk I will get a tiny bit of swelling but it’ll be gone by the next morning.

I’ve started some basic plyometric/jumping/pre-running movements in PT! This includes gently bouncing up and down on your toes and softly landing from one leg onto the other. 

... And the tough.

Luckily, the tough is pretty minimal, but the main one is that I didn’t get the strength testing results I was hoping for. I’m at about 65% LSI, in other words, my left quad is about 65% as strong as my right. My PT says this is a solid number for where I am at in the recovery, but it’s hard not to be pretty disappointed as I need to be at 80% to run. But it’s helpful to have the clarity of where I’m at, and what my next steps need to be to hit my goals. My mission for this month is to work my quad hard, consistently, every other day, no excuses, so I can be as close to 80% as possible by my next round of testing at 4 months.

I think I might be struggling to eat enough protein, and also eating enough in general. I want to make this a focus of the next month, too. I can’t build a quad if I’m not giving it protein.

I’ve also just been struggling with a feeling of loss. I’m sad to be missing out on stuff still. Even though things are infinitely better than they were a month or two ago, I’m still not able to do many of the things I love. I can’t run, I can’t do aerial silks, I can’t do a triathlon, and that sucks because the season will be over by the time I could do so physically.

At the end of the day, things are pretty great. My graft is still there and strong, and I’m able to walk and hike and swim and be outside. I’m so grateful that the early stages of recovery are behind me, as I remember in those early days I just couldn’t imagine there would be a day again where I could just take a long walk without limping.

And I am really grateful for the good habits that the regimen of PT is teaching me. It’s building a gym habit. I never did very much squatting or strength training in general and was a bit of a “cardio queen”, so needing to do this to meet tangible goals is giving me the structure to develop discipline around strength training.

Onto the next month, and welcoming a mindset of growth and discipline, as well as a sense of joy in the small moments of new abilities.

[shayerid]

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Don't let a sports injury hold you back any longer. Take the first step towards recovery with sports injury physiotherapy in Toronto at Saffron Life Physio. Contact us today to schedule your appointment and get back in the game stronger than ever before.

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Best Sports Injury Clinic In Nagpur | Dr. Siddharth Jain

Are you an athlete or sports enthusiast who's been sidelined by an injury? Are you searching for expert care to help you recover and get back to doing what you love? Look no further! Dr. Siddharth Jain's sports injury clinic in Nagpur is your premier destination for top-notch care and rehabilitation services tailored to athletes of all levels.

Meet Dr. Siddharth Jain

Dr. Siddharth Jain is a highly acclaimed sports medicine specialist with a passion for helping athletes overcome injuries and reach their peak performance. With extensive experience and a compassionate approach to patient care, Dr. Jain is dedicated to providing personalized treatment plans designed to expedite recovery and prevent future injuries.

Comprehensive Sports Injury Care

At Dr. Siddharth Jain's sports injury clinic, we offer a comprehensive range of services to address a wide variety of sports-related injuries, including:

Muscle Strains and Sprains: Whether you've strained a muscle during a game or sprained a ligament during training, our clinic provides expert diagnosis and treatment to help you heal effectively and regain strength and mobility.

Joint Injuries: From knee and shoulder injuries to ankle and elbow issues, our clinic specializes in treating joint injuries common among athletes. Our goal is to facilitate optimal healing and restore joint function, allowing you to return to your sport with confidence.

Fractures and Dislocations: Suffering a fracture or dislocation can be devastating for an athlete. Our clinic offers advanced treatment options, including casting, splinting, and surgical intervention when necessary, to ensure proper alignment and promote efficient healing.

Overuse Injuries: Overuse injuries like tendonitis and stress fractures are common among athletes who engage in repetitive motions. Our clinic provides specialized care to address these injuries, including activity modification, physical therapy, and biomechanical analysis to identify underlying issues.

Concussion Management: Concussions are a serious concern in contact sports. Our clinic offers comprehensive concussion management services, including baseline testing, symptom assessment, and gradual return-to-play protocols, to ensure the safety and well-being of athletes who have suffered head injuries.

Rehabilitation Services: Recovery from a sports injury often requires targeted rehabilitation to rebuild strength, flexibility, and endurance. Our clinic offers customized rehabilitation programs tailored to each patient's specific needs, incorporating exercises, manual therapy, and functional training to facilitate a full recovery.

State-of-the-Art Facilities

Dr. Siddharth Jain's sports injury clinic is equipped with state-of-the-art facilities and advanced diagnostic tools to ensure accurate diagnosis and effective treatment of sports-related injuries. Our team utilizes cutting-edge technology and evidence-based practices to deliver the highest standard of care to our patients.

Schedule Your Appointment Today!

Don't let a sports injury keep you on the sidelines any longer. Schedule an appointment at the best sports injury clinic in Nagpur - Dr. Siddharth Jain's clinic - and take the first step towards recovery and regaining your competitive edge. Our experienced team is here to support you every step of the way as you return to the game stronger than ever.

For More Information

Website :- https://drsiddharthjainorthopaedic.com Contact Information :- +91 8300679791 G-mail :- dr.sidrjanortho@gmail.com Address :- 1- Nagpur arthroscopy and sports injury centre 6th floor Nikalas tower Ramdaspeth Nagpur 2- Nagpur Institute of Medical Sciences, Khare Marg, Opposite Balbharti Office, Dhantoli, Nagpur, Maharashtra 440012