Jenn Fields ( PAUL AIKEN )

Like many of us in Boulder, Katy Dannenberg is part of the bad crowd.

Bad at resting, that is. You've seen the bad-at-resting crowd: They're climbing with one foot, because the other is braced in a boot (like Katy). They're steering a bike with one arm; the other's in a sling. They're running with a knee brace, doing handstands at yoga with a taped wrist.

And those are just the obvious injuries.

One recent day Katy headed up Boulder Canyon to climb, even though her foot, which had been causing pain since February, was really smarting. (A stress fracture from running eight or nine miles a day? She wasn't sure.) Then she fell and cut her other leg. Getting the cut stitched up at the hospital, she confessed to the doctor that her foot had been bothering her. When he started poking around, she nearly kicked him in the face. He ordered X-rays.

Doc: "How long has this been bothering you?"

Katy: "Well, I'm kind of stubborn about resting."

Doc: "This looks like it's been broken for six weeks."

Katy: "I'm an idiot."

Don't judge -- if you're not part of the bad crowd yet, you know someone who is. Few of us have the common sense to rest. (Myself included. I paused in the middle of writing this to run, despite my tweaky IT band. When I wake up in the morning and stretch, the side of my knee pops, like a leather strap snapping. Whatever, it's fine.)

Over the winter, when I was starting to have shoulder troubles (but kept ice climbing -- whatever, it's fine), I called Dr. Doug Jowdy, a sports-psychology specialist at the University of Colorado Hospital, to ask what the heck is wrong with all of us Boulderites who can't follow doctor's orders -- or common sense -- when we have an injury.

"For the injured person who is perfectionistic, has high standards, has a high need for achievement -- which characterizes much of Boulder -- they have to really make a conscious effort to listen to their health care providers and rest," he said.

I listened carefully to Dr. Jowdy. I nodded, "uh-huh"-ed. It made perfect sense -- the body's need to heal, the mental pitfalls of being too invested in one's sports. And the next morning, I got up early, put a rope on my project and worked the crux, which required a hard pull on my bad shoulder. Four times. I spent the afternoon plastered to an ice pack, popping Advil, left hand tingling (I have nerve impingement).

If you've said the following, you might be in the bad crowd:

"I'm going to run/ride/ski/climb through this."

"It's fine."

"I won't climb/ride with that foot."

"It's fine."

"The doctor said not to run/ride/ski/climb, so I'm only going out for a couple of hours."

"Whatever, it's fine."

The bad crowd doesn't learn easily. We're bad at resting, but we're even worse at listening.

I asked Katy, "This weekend, are your friends going to help you hobble up to a cliff somewhere?"

"I thought about that," she said. "I have the day off tomorrow, so I thought, do I go skiing, or do I just go hang out at a crag?"

"Are you serious, you might go skiing?"

"Well, you're wearing a hard boot, so I think it would be OK." Katy laughed, leaned over and touched the brace. "Maybe not."