...my right elbow?

I have to say, when I saw that one of the prompt ideas on the class blog was writing about your relationship "to a body part" I got... unnecessarily excited? I don't know, I just pictured myself writing a hilarious entry, going something along these lines:

"So, my right elbow and I really have a good thing going. I mean, it may not seem like a super important body part, but, oh - it is. For example, just today, I was taking notes during a discussion in my biology lab when my chin just decided it was really tired and needed a rest. My right elbow, being the helpful little elbow that it is, jumped right in and propped up the right arm and hand, which aided the tired chin and allowed me to continue taking notes with my left hand. This may not seem like much, but really, that elbow was making an important sacrifice - I mean, would you want to spend time face-to-face with a smelly, probably formaldehyde and god-knows-what-else covered lab table? My chin certainly didn't! Right elbow stepped in, valiantly ameliorating the situation without complaint, or even an expectation of being thanked. Well, it's your time, right elbow - this post is dedicated to YOU!"

...Let's be honest. I had way more fun writing that just now than any sane person probably should. But it is the end of a very long Wednesday (as Wednesdays somehow always are) and I think I'm a little over my limit of handling things like a normal person. (LT and I were def just being kind of weird at the end of Candidate's Forum tonight and we got ourselves a few quality strange looks.)

But really, what I started thinking about (in all seriousness, I swear) is how I don't really fully appreciate my body parts until something feels wrong, or they don't do exactly what I want them to. It's not like I wake up every morning and take inventory: "Wow, hey, my right arm feels awesome. So does my left. And my left leg is still there, right (ha) where I left it last night - cool." But I do notice when, say, my jaw hurts after connecting splendidly with my coach's elbow during practice, or when my shins start to tingle after running up all four flights of stairs to my room for the umpteenth time, or when my poor asthmatic lungs have just had it with the allergens in the air or the sprints I'm running at practice, or when my head is aching because I haven't slept enough or I'm hella stressed out.

And then there's that magical moment - when, after icing for a while, my jaw feels normal suddenly, or I get to stop at the top of the stairs (finally!) and my shins get to relax, or when I get to stop running and suddenly my chest opens up and I can breathe again, or when I finally give in and take some Advil or get some sleep and my head goes back to just being a normal head, and not a stressed out, throbbing mess. I kind of love that feeling of relief. When suddenly I am no longer distracted by my discomfort; I am in awe of my body's ability to bounce back and get itself back to normal, often without huge effort on my part. But it is only those brief moments when I truly appreciate my body and how much... well, power it has over me.

I dunno. I guess what I'm saying is that I should really be more aware of my body, and be thankful when I wake up every morning that it is still intact, that I can still use every bit of it properly and that nothing feels wrong in any way. Life can change in an instant, I know. I'm worried that some day, I'll look back on this time that I had to take my body for granted and wish that I had it back.