Day 17: After the Fall
19/07/25 07:59 Filed in: Book - OG Parkour
The Mind-Body Orchestra
Awoken by pain at 3 a.m., our author faces Day 16 of recovery from a parkour fall. What unfolds is a pivotal 24 hours where relentless physical therapy, accidental opportunities, and a surprising work triumph collide.
—
Awoken by pain at 3 a.m., our author faces Day 16 of recovery from a parkour fall. What unfolds is a pivotal 24 hours where relentless physical therapy, accidental opportunities, and a surprising work triumph collide.
—
Yesterday had begun with a 3:00 a.m. wake-up call—and pain forcing me awake. I wrote then that my body was demanding physical therapy. Pain is just an alert, like a smartphone buzz or beep. Now, it’s 5:00 p.m. on Friday. Work’s mostly done, and I’m ready for the weekend.
Yesterday, Day 16, I made progress. Things were loosening up; my cortical mind was responding better to my body’s signals. Instead of ignoring post-workout aches, I massaged and iced my leg. I even combined the two, realizing ice-cold 11-ounce Medalla beer cans were perfect mini rollers—massaging while cooling my muscles.
Since yesterday's early PT session, I’ve walked, worked the leg, eaten well, and hydrated smartly every four hours. I woke again this morning, less than five hours into sleep, with pain demanding another session. After PT and two extra hours of rest, I tackled a busy workday across two project sites.
The struggle began early. Stepping into a tiny Uber wearing steel-toe boots, I wedged my bad leg like a green twig—the boot lodged between the front and back seats as the door shut and we drove off. I angled, pulled, and vigorously massaged the pain, noticing something different. The dense, solid muscle mass that had plagued me since the fall now had indentations. It was breaking up—for better or worse. New pains mixed with the old: the initial twist getting into the car, and deeper pressure from massaging further into my upper thigh than I had in weeks.
The massage time stretched thanks to the driver. At first, he seemed competent—questioning my destination, noting a nearby LUMA office. I confirmed it was a different town. But then he argued constantly… with his GPS. Not AI-powered, just a basic app. He took a wrong turn, then stopped at a power grid site. “This is LUMA,” he announced.
“It’s a LUMA-related facility,” I replied, “but is it the destination I entered?” His GPS screen was a meter from my face—a squiggly line between us and the real target. It’s baffling: people know I work for Puerto Rico’s island-wide electric utility, yet can’t grasp that I might need to visit different locations. Power lines run everywhere.
He drove manically to make up time, stressed I’d complain. But I’d left an hour early—we couldn’t be late. His misdirections bought me extra massage time. More breaks in the muscle mass? Amid the pain cocktail, real progress stirred.
We finally reached the gated facility’s security entrance. Exiting the car-cocoon was less painful and far smoother than entering. I tipped the driver but reported his GPS battles and detours. Normally, I’m a 5-star rider if you deliver me alive… but he needed intervention.
The rest of the day was intense. After a week of slow progress training a new programmer I'd hired to automate parts of a utility project—only to discover his English was weaker than my Spanish—I switched to training in his language. This forced me to write out every objective and process detail for AI translation, which turned out to be like rocket fuel. With clear instructions in his native tongue, he proved to be an extremely talented data engineer (go figure?). Today, we showcased the results: achieving in three weeks what other projects hadn't managed in seven months. Sometimes an obstacle becomes a good thing, forcing better planning and sharper engineering.
Post-meeting came another Uber, home-office calls, and now. Every hour, I’d pop up: stretch, use a beer-can massager, eat protein, or sip soda water infused with coconut water and OJ. Each massage went deeper. Each time I sat, my knee bent a little better. By day’s end—or when I started writing—real progress felt tangible. Between 4 and 5 p.m., the muscle mass seemed to melt.
Five was when I began writing this update. I've been stationary since my last conference call. Taking a quick break.
I just stretched, fetching my PT devices from the fridge. Actually, two beer-can massagers were warm (left out), but one was still cold. Thankfully, I hadn’t drunk any of them since discovering their value. I rolled and stretched, bad leg propped on the couch, pushing for full knee flexion and extension. Swelling lingered around the knee.
With my thigh loosened, it was clear the knee took a hit too. After arm work and deep knee bends (yahoo!), I rolled the can over the area before moving back up to the thigh. A small swelling remained deep in the center of the former mass. Pressing the can into the core, I rolled outward—stretching the muscle by flattening it away from the center. This technique was key this morning.
I tested a jump. Then another. Yesterday, I managed a light hop. Today? Double jumps: bounce-bounce on the left leg… then the troublesome right. Impossible yesterday—possible today. I tried martial arts forms: kick-left, kick-right. I could kick right—not fast or hard, but I could. Or… could I? My brain added an extra approval step for the right leg. Was I truly unable, or just self-limiting? I tried again. A hard kick. Technically crap, definitely not parkour, but the motion was there. Like my youngest son would say: “I used to be good, but fluffy. Now I’m just good.” My kicks today were “fluffy,” and not good.
Time to gear up for Friday night in Puerto Rico. Normally, I’d dress to hike, undress at the beach, wipe off sweat upon reaching Old San Juan, then shirt-up to look Uber-delivered. Should I stress the leg? Knowing I need to just shower and go. My body-mind will decide.
I stink. Noticed it during the last stretch. Also noticed the dark patches on my thigh are gone—old blood and muscle cells purging. Time for a shower and scrub. Time to hit the beach and bars.
---
Shower complete. I needed dandruff shampoo at 18, and I still need it at 61. While showering, I did a few simple leg raises. Unsafe? Not in this rough-tiled shower – it’s non-slip. I lifted my bad leg (right), then my good leg (left), alternating between them.
I realize I’ll need to retrain the timing of all the muscle groups in my right leg before jumping around again. It’s interesting: the muscle group that likely failed – causing the fall – is the very one now undergoing renovation. The move should have been simple: up and over the first concrete bench, then down and a quick pop-up over the second. Minimal space, but I’d done it before. This time, my right (leading) leg didn’t clear. I swung forward, crashing my right knee onto the bench top and my leg against its far edge. I fell into a push-up position on the concrete beyond, thankfully getting my hands down first. My chest was only mildly bruised; my face never hit the deck.
The fascinating part is that this failed muscle group is precisely the one being renovated these past two weeks. It’s almost as if, the moment it wasn’t up to my OG parkour antics, it got recalled for refurbishment. Over the next couple of weeks, I’ll need to carefully retrain my movements, much like I did over the past four months. Carefully... though if I truly wanted caution, I’d never get out of bed.
Also interesting: in the shower, I noticed the kicks with my 'good' leg weren’t as high. I think focusing so intensely on stretching the right leg these past weeks made me neglect the left, or at least work it less. The muscle tone on the left looks softer and smaller than I remember. That might also be because the right thigh and knee are still swollen – about 15% larger than the left. Good progress, though; I think it was 40% bigger before. Pain and tenderness persist, with sharp pain during deep crouches or attempts to fully bend the knee. It may be a while before I can kick myself in the buttocks with that right heel.
Today was a good day – for work and for my body. The next two weeks will be a challenge: regaining fitness, overcoming the fear of missteps, while staying fully present to ensure I don’t misstep. In just two and a half weeks since the fall, I can already feel the power muscles in my legs start to atrophy. They provide not just the force to jump and repel off obstacles, but also the strength to control speed (accelerate and decelerate) and re-vector – to nail the precise angles of motion.
The key to reclaiming peak health and living with the zest of your twenties lies in transforming your body into a finely tuned orchestra. What I call, 'OG parkour' is just a way to achieve a set of physical changes that make one feel and look young again, gray hair notwithstanding. But I've learned these improvements only come iteratively, through alternating cycles of physical and mental progress. Your mind is as crucial as any muscle—it must constantly adjust to understand and trust your body’s evolving capabilities. Just as a delayed start ruins a musical performance, hesitation mid-movement can lead to a devastating fall.
To be clear: our 'holistic mind' is a composite system. It integrates the central brain with distributed coordination throughout the body—countless smart cellular constructs capable of movement, fuel storage, self-repair, and executing complex movements in concert, often with minimal conscious instruction.
The goal is perfect coordination: a system of systems. With each incremental physical change, your mind's understanding of what you are and can do must adjust. This understanding only emerges by completing cycles: doing, then tuning coordination, then building comfort and trust. Mastering each movement builds a toolbox of trusted capabilities, enabling swift transitions between complex actions.
The day I fell, I skipped my morning 3k run—my essential ritual for waking up my body and metabolism, shouting "Turn ON, wake the fuck up, don't be old!" Over the coming weeks and months, I’ll need to rebuild my entire system: the strength and timing in my muscles, and the understanding, trust, and fearlessness in my mind. Because when you're active, hesitation isn't just a mistake—it can be deadly. Fear isn't just a mind killer.
Yesterday, Day 16, I made progress. Things were loosening up; my cortical mind was responding better to my body’s signals. Instead of ignoring post-workout aches, I massaged and iced my leg. I even combined the two, realizing ice-cold 11-ounce Medalla beer cans were perfect mini rollers—massaging while cooling my muscles.
Since yesterday's early PT session, I’ve walked, worked the leg, eaten well, and hydrated smartly every four hours. I woke again this morning, less than five hours into sleep, with pain demanding another session. After PT and two extra hours of rest, I tackled a busy workday across two project sites.
The struggle began early. Stepping into a tiny Uber wearing steel-toe boots, I wedged my bad leg like a green twig—the boot lodged between the front and back seats as the door shut and we drove off. I angled, pulled, and vigorously massaged the pain, noticing something different. The dense, solid muscle mass that had plagued me since the fall now had indentations. It was breaking up—for better or worse. New pains mixed with the old: the initial twist getting into the car, and deeper pressure from massaging further into my upper thigh than I had in weeks.
The massage time stretched thanks to the driver. At first, he seemed competent—questioning my destination, noting a nearby LUMA office. I confirmed it was a different town. But then he argued constantly… with his GPS. Not AI-powered, just a basic app. He took a wrong turn, then stopped at a power grid site. “This is LUMA,” he announced.
“It’s a LUMA-related facility,” I replied, “but is it the destination I entered?” His GPS screen was a meter from my face—a squiggly line between us and the real target. It’s baffling: people know I work for Puerto Rico’s island-wide electric utility, yet can’t grasp that I might need to visit different locations. Power lines run everywhere.
He drove manically to make up time, stressed I’d complain. But I’d left an hour early—we couldn’t be late. His misdirections bought me extra massage time. More breaks in the muscle mass? Amid the pain cocktail, real progress stirred.
We finally reached the gated facility’s security entrance. Exiting the car-cocoon was less painful and far smoother than entering. I tipped the driver but reported his GPS battles and detours. Normally, I’m a 5-star rider if you deliver me alive… but he needed intervention.
The rest of the day was intense. After a week of slow progress training a new programmer I'd hired to automate parts of a utility project—only to discover his English was weaker than my Spanish—I switched to training in his language. This forced me to write out every objective and process detail for AI translation, which turned out to be like rocket fuel. With clear instructions in his native tongue, he proved to be an extremely talented data engineer (go figure?). Today, we showcased the results: achieving in three weeks what other projects hadn't managed in seven months. Sometimes an obstacle becomes a good thing, forcing better planning and sharper engineering.
Post-meeting came another Uber, home-office calls, and now. Every hour, I’d pop up: stretch, use a beer-can massager, eat protein, or sip soda water infused with coconut water and OJ. Each massage went deeper. Each time I sat, my knee bent a little better. By day’s end—or when I started writing—real progress felt tangible. Between 4 and 5 p.m., the muscle mass seemed to melt.
Five was when I began writing this update. I've been stationary since my last conference call. Taking a quick break.
I just stretched, fetching my PT devices from the fridge. Actually, two beer-can massagers were warm (left out), but one was still cold. Thankfully, I hadn’t drunk any of them since discovering their value. I rolled and stretched, bad leg propped on the couch, pushing for full knee flexion and extension. Swelling lingered around the knee.
With my thigh loosened, it was clear the knee took a hit too. After arm work and deep knee bends (yahoo!), I rolled the can over the area before moving back up to the thigh. A small swelling remained deep in the center of the former mass. Pressing the can into the core, I rolled outward—stretching the muscle by flattening it away from the center. This technique was key this morning.
I tested a jump. Then another. Yesterday, I managed a light hop. Today? Double jumps: bounce-bounce on the left leg… then the troublesome right. Impossible yesterday—possible today. I tried martial arts forms: kick-left, kick-right. I could kick right—not fast or hard, but I could. Or… could I? My brain added an extra approval step for the right leg. Was I truly unable, or just self-limiting? I tried again. A hard kick. Technically crap, definitely not parkour, but the motion was there. Like my youngest son would say: “I used to be good, but fluffy. Now I’m just good.” My kicks today were “fluffy,” and not good.
Time to gear up for Friday night in Puerto Rico. Normally, I’d dress to hike, undress at the beach, wipe off sweat upon reaching Old San Juan, then shirt-up to look Uber-delivered. Should I stress the leg? Knowing I need to just shower and go. My body-mind will decide.
I stink. Noticed it during the last stretch. Also noticed the dark patches on my thigh are gone—old blood and muscle cells purging. Time for a shower and scrub. Time to hit the beach and bars.
---
Shower complete. I needed dandruff shampoo at 18, and I still need it at 61. While showering, I did a few simple leg raises. Unsafe? Not in this rough-tiled shower – it’s non-slip. I lifted my bad leg (right), then my good leg (left), alternating between them.
I realize I’ll need to retrain the timing of all the muscle groups in my right leg before jumping around again. It’s interesting: the muscle group that likely failed – causing the fall – is the very one now undergoing renovation. The move should have been simple: up and over the first concrete bench, then down and a quick pop-up over the second. Minimal space, but I’d done it before. This time, my right (leading) leg didn’t clear. I swung forward, crashing my right knee onto the bench top and my leg against its far edge. I fell into a push-up position on the concrete beyond, thankfully getting my hands down first. My chest was only mildly bruised; my face never hit the deck.
The fascinating part is that this failed muscle group is precisely the one being renovated these past two weeks. It’s almost as if, the moment it wasn’t up to my OG parkour antics, it got recalled for refurbishment. Over the next couple of weeks, I’ll need to carefully retrain my movements, much like I did over the past four months. Carefully... though if I truly wanted caution, I’d never get out of bed.
Also interesting: in the shower, I noticed the kicks with my 'good' leg weren’t as high. I think focusing so intensely on stretching the right leg these past weeks made me neglect the left, or at least work it less. The muscle tone on the left looks softer and smaller than I remember. That might also be because the right thigh and knee are still swollen – about 15% larger than the left. Good progress, though; I think it was 40% bigger before. Pain and tenderness persist, with sharp pain during deep crouches or attempts to fully bend the knee. It may be a while before I can kick myself in the buttocks with that right heel.
Today was a good day – for work and for my body. The next two weeks will be a challenge: regaining fitness, overcoming the fear of missteps, while staying fully present to ensure I don’t misstep. In just two and a half weeks since the fall, I can already feel the power muscles in my legs start to atrophy. They provide not just the force to jump and repel off obstacles, but also the strength to control speed (accelerate and decelerate) and re-vector – to nail the precise angles of motion.
The key to reclaiming peak health and living with the zest of your twenties lies in transforming your body into a finely tuned orchestra. What I call, 'OG parkour' is just a way to achieve a set of physical changes that make one feel and look young again, gray hair notwithstanding. But I've learned these improvements only come iteratively, through alternating cycles of physical and mental progress. Your mind is as crucial as any muscle—it must constantly adjust to understand and trust your body’s evolving capabilities. Just as a delayed start ruins a musical performance, hesitation mid-movement can lead to a devastating fall.
To be clear: our 'holistic mind' is a composite system. It integrates the central brain with distributed coordination throughout the body—countless smart cellular constructs capable of movement, fuel storage, self-repair, and executing complex movements in concert, often with minimal conscious instruction.
The goal is perfect coordination: a system of systems. With each incremental physical change, your mind's understanding of what you are and can do must adjust. This understanding only emerges by completing cycles: doing, then tuning coordination, then building comfort and trust. Mastering each movement builds a toolbox of trusted capabilities, enabling swift transitions between complex actions.
The day I fell, I skipped my morning 3k run—my essential ritual for waking up my body and metabolism, shouting "Turn ON, wake the fuck up, don't be old!" Over the coming weeks and months, I’ll need to rebuild my entire system: the strength and timing in my muscles, and the understanding, trust, and fearlessness in my mind. Because when you're active, hesitation isn't just a mistake—it can be deadly. Fear isn't just a mind killer.