Last Wednesday's throwing session was a day in which I felt better than I have felt in quite a while. My arm felt fresh, my legs felt loose. I felt the seams on the ball especially well. The 30 pitches I threw at 50% velocity felt especially crisp and consistent. I walked out of the training room following my session with such personal gratification and happiness that the rest of the day coasted by with very little stress or trouble.
I woke up on Thursday and attended my team's early morning conditioning practice before heading home to make myself some eggs and get myself prepared to go to the weight room. I was accompanied there by a fellow teammate of mine, an outfielder who could probably best be described as a gym rat. I was to do several sets up exercises for my upper body and he asked to join me, to which I obviously said yes. I warmed up, stretched out, and then headed to the free weight area. Being that I had felt so good the day before and continued to feel good going into my lifting session, I figured I should maintain the forward motion by attempting to lift the amount of weight that my teammate wished to lift.
Previous to Thursday morning's session in the gym, I had been extremely cautious about the gradual progression of weight that I would undertake with my upper body. The instability of the elbow following an operation such as a ligament transplant is severe and the strength does not come back as easily as in many other circumstances. And while I know that now, seven months post-op my arm can more than likely withstand the physicality of such weight lifting endeavors, I have still been timid. The build-up that I have taken my body on has been very slow and strung out, and has been successful up to this point. I continue to increase weight and continue to feel good, and I've made sure to not overexert myself in any way that could potentially jeopardize my progress.
And then on Thursday, I got complacent. My success in the previous 24 hours caused a minuscule sense of indestructibility to come over me. I watched as my teammate completed his reps of exercises at weights that were higher than what I'd built myself up to. He pushed through the set with no reserve and worked hard. I yearned for that feeling again, to push myself to my physical limits and achieve that sense of prevailing from pure exhaustion from the final few reps.
I threw great on Wednesday. I completed my exercises after throwing with no troubles. I had a great night sleep, and felt great at the morning conditioning session. Why not push myself? I thought...my arm can handle it. It definitely can. I can lift the same amount of weight as my teammate and have no difficulty recovering appropriately, just as I had done previous to my injury.
I grabbed the weight from him and off I went. Pushing through rep after rep, set after set. I was breathing heavily, grunting and sweating. I lifted each weight with the exact perfect form, and completed every single rep I was supposed to complete. I continued on with this routine through about half of our workout, before resting in between a few sets of bicep exercises to get a quick swig of water.
Upon returning back to the station from getting the drink, my teammate was just completing his set of curls with an even higher weight. Not even thinking twice I hopped right into place, grabbed the weight, and began.
"One." Exhale...inhale.
"Two." Exhale...inhale.
"Three." Exhale...inhale.
"Fo..."
As I reached the peak of the lift, a sudden sensation came over me. I felt a sharp twinge extending from my elbow all the way through my forearm and into the outer region of my finger tips. The tingle continued to stay within my fingers, my pinky finger and my ring finger...the two fingers that are directly correlated with the ulnar nerve. I quickly dropped the weight and moved my fingers around, trying to regain normal feeling. It was as if my fingers "fell asleep" (I'm sure most of you have experienced a foot, or another body part, falling asleep) and I couldn't get it back to normal. I explained to my teammate what I was feeling, left the weight room and walked to the training room. I told the trainers what happened and lay right down on the training bed to ice down the arm.
I felt very defeated. I knew that I had been foolish to attempt such weights that I had not been accustomed to lifting in the past. I knew the jumpy nerves that had occurred in my arm were a direct result of said foolishness. I wanted so badly to lift weights with my teammates like I hadn't been hurt, and figured I could just because I hadn't felt any pain or discomfort in recent past. And obviously, I was wrong.
After a session of icing and electrical stimulation, the feeling had been regained in my fingers. My trainers told me not to worry about the excess nerves, it was a natural bodily reaction to my stupidity. I left the athletic facility and went home kicking myself.
Despite my successful progression thus far in the process the moral of the story is that one needs to walk before they can run. I cannot become so complacent as to assume I can skip steps in any part of the process just because of the fact that I am theoretically feeling good. I need to maintain my continuous (and monotonous) progression and in due time, reach my intended goal. The ignorance that I displayed on Thursday is the exact type of action that could potentially hinder me from reaching that ultimate goal, and I hold myself to a higher standard of perseverance than to subject myself to attempting such actions.
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