I Used To Move Like That: A Minor Lament

Last week we tried to summit a 14er - Mt. Princeton, which is known for the standard route to the summit crossing a long stretch of talus slope. Hiking across boulders is slower going than walking on a dirt-surface trail. 

My balance since I broke myself isn’t as good as it used to be; the control I have over the muscles in my leg is reduced compared to before I broke myself; every time I take a step, I place my foot carefully (and that goes for walking down a sidewalk … it’s a much more significant mental endeavor on uneven surfaces). 

On the way down, after we took in the gorgeous view, I was making my way very slowly and carefully across the talus slope. We paused for a moment to let another hiker pass us. After we shared polite pleasantries, he continued on his way. I watched him move quickly across the talus, and I remembered a hike we took a couple years ago. 

On that other hike a couple years ago, I was also passed by a guy who was moving quickly and smoothly down the trail. In my memory, he was carrying a small child in a backpack as he moved swiftly and smoothly down the trail. 

The guy on Mt. Princeton reminded me of the guy a couple years ago. Both of them moved smoothly, both of them moved quickly, and neither of them looked like they were rushing. 

I used to move like that.

My Butt's Sore

While I was an inpatient at Craig Hospital a couple years ago, my physical therapist spent a lot of time poking me in the butt. I remembered that little factoid because right this minute, my butt hurts in exactly that same spot where she used to poke me.

Lemme share a little more context. When I was at Craig, I was mostly getting around in a wheelchair because I couldn’t walk. But I had at least the potential for enough muscle function to be able to, so I spent a bunch of my time at Craig learning how to walk again. My physical therapist watched me closely and realized that the glute muscles weren’t firing the way they should have been, so she kept poking me in the butt as a way to remind me to remind those muscles to start working again.

Fast forward to today. About a week ago, I joined a CrossFit gym. Before I broke myself, I spent seven years working out at a CrossFit gym – so I’m excited to be back at it. Now in a CrossFit gym, the workout is different every day. Some days you get to do the things that you like and are good at – some days you get to do the things that aren’t your favorite and that are not your strengths. Some days the workouts are like what you’d do at home; some days the workouts include things that you wouldn’t choose to do on your own.

Today’s workout included running. Since I was discharged from Craig, I’ve done virtually no running except just a little bit here and there. But the gym had programmed running today in distances that I knew would be hard for me, but that I knew I could be successful at. So I did the workout. And almost immediately I was sore. You know, in that way where you know you used your muscles. Specifically, the muscles in my butt were sore almost immediately.

Which reminded me of my physical therapist at Craig. Maybe I should let her know that I’m finally using that muscle. Or maybe not, because she’ll wonder why I didn’t start doing this kind of thing sooner.

Regardless, one of the things we’ve talked about in my household is that it’s entirely possible that I might still be mostly in a wheelchair if I hadn’t been able to do the initial part of my recovery at Craig Hospital. That place works magic with people who are recovering from spinal cord injuries and traumatic brain injuries.

In a few weeks, I’ll be riding Pedal 4 Possible, a fundraiser bike ride to support the work done at Craig to help folks be able to integrate into society in safe and healthy ways. I encourage you to either sign up for the ride, or to make a contribution.

My butt’s still sore … but I think I’m glad that it is.

Fundraiser

As most of my seven readers know, I broke myself a couple years ago. As I’ve noted in this space and elsewhere, I feel ridiculously lucky to be able to move around as well as I can. In fact, I probably move around well enough that if you didn’t know me before the accident, I’d guess that you’d have to watch carefully to see the comparative deficiency in movement that is part of my current reality. 

After the accident, I was in the ICU at our local hospital for about ten days. During that time, I hardly got out of bed - and when I did, it was an ordeal. When I moved from that hospital (where they took good care of me) to the spinal cord injury treatment department at Craig Hospital, I was able to get around some. But only in a motorized wheelchair. /

For better or worse, I was probably the only person who really didn’t contemplate the possibility that I might never walk again. I blame that lack of introspection partly on the mild traumatic brain injury, and partly on my own cluelessness. 

I know that I’m unimaginably lucky to have regained as much muscle control and mobility as I have. But I’m certain that I wouldn’t be moving around as much as I am now if I hadn’t spent most of the first couple months post-accident at Craig Hospital, where they know how to help folks with brain injuries and with spinal cord injuries achieve as much recovery and mobility and functionality as possible.  

Because I can, I’ll be riding in a fundraiser bike ride raising money to help support the life-giving work that Craig Hospital does. And serendipitously, this fundraiser ride will happen exactly two and a half years after I broke myself.

If you’d like to help me support this important work, you can do so at this fundraising page

I'm Out of Shape

I went for a bike ride a couple days ago, which is not necessarily an unusual event. That day, though, I was training for a fundraiser ride (raising money for MS research) that I’m doing in a couple weeks. By the end of the ride, I was way more worn out than I used to ever by after a bike ride. I ended up being almost completely useless for the rest of the day.

Here’s the thing. A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have flinched if someone invited me at 6:00 am to go on a 100 mile bike ride starting at 7:00 am. And I would have been able to function fairly well after that ride. I’m starting to realize that I’m not currently in good enough shape to do that kinda thing. 

It’s humbling to realize that I’m not as capable physically as I was a couple years ago (which feels really recent). But then my social media feed reminded me that it was almost exactly two years ago to the day that I went on my first post-accident bike ride. So maybe I should cut myself a little slack?

The truth is that I regularly feel stuck between thinking I should already be in better shape and more capable than I am, and recognizing that there’s probably nothing wrong with the continued recovery process taking a little longer than I want it to. 

Of course, that doesn’t help me get in shape any more quickly; and it doesn’t push the date of the ride any further into the future. 

The getting in shape is for me to do. If you’d like to help, you’re welcome to make a contribution to the fundraising effort. 

Two Years

Two years ago today a big chunk of my reality changed. 

As my seven readers might know, on March 18, 2019 I was involved in some kind of skiing accident which left me in one hospital for ten days and another hospital for five weeks.  Nope, I don’t have the slightest idea what happened on the mountain. Yep, I got to ride in a helicopter. Nope, I don’t remember the helicopter ride. Yep, I’d like to go for another flight in a helicopter someday, but without the trauma. 

The effects of that trauma still remain. They’ve diminished over the past two years, but my mobility is still limited. 

I count myself ridiculously lucky to be able to walk. And I wish it was easier to walk without limping. And as much as I dislike running, I wish I could. 

I love that I can go up and down stairs. And I wish that I didn’t have to focus on every single step I take going up and down. But I still take the stairs instead of the escalator most of the time.

I feel like being able to work out in a gym setting like I used to is life-giving. And I lament having lost capacity across all exercise categories. Still, I’m gonna do what I’ve been doing in the gym for the past eight years, which is simply working on getting fitter tomorrow than I am today. 

Maybe more than all the other physical realities, I’m really stoked that I can still ride bikes. 

***

But physicality, while it’s really important, is only one small part of reality. Over the past two years, I’ve been able to explore my sense of self within the context of physicality. And I’ve also been able to do the same within the contexts of love in relationship; and family; and community; and vocation. And I’ve come to realize that I win. 

Vocation: The congregation I was serving as pastor surrounded me with so much prayer and care that I was overwhelmed (and that support was both related and unrelated to my injury). And the congregation I started serving as pastor almost one year ago has accepted me without reservation, entirely unrelated to my physical circumstance. Also (and this should be obvious), people of all different physical abilities can be pastors. 

Community: In addition to the folks who are connected to the congregations where I’ve been a pastor, there are lots of other people who stepped up and surrounded me and my family with support and encouragement and help. The fitnessing community, the music community, and the friends community were all invaluable to me for a variety of reasons … mostly just helping to keep me mentally and emotionally stable. 

Family: My parents, children, step-children, and extended family have all treated me with the right amount of care and concern that was balanced by just enough sarcasm and name-calling that I felt as normal as possible over these two years. 

Love in Relationship: I don’t know where I would be right now if I didn’t get to be part of an amazing relationship based in mutual love and respect. I’ve thought about it, and I’m entirely certain that I would be much worse off if Nicole and I weren’t together through what feels like a circus of continually
confusing chaos (much of which has almost nothing to do with any Spinal Cord Injury). Even more, it is really joyful and life-giving to be able to journey through the adventure that is life with someone who I enjoy adventuring with.

***

It’s been two years as of today since a big chunk of my reality changed. Sure, I have physical limitations as a result of the incident two years ago. And sure, sometimes those physical limitations are frustrating. But that incident is only one part of my story, and certainly not the most important part. Having broken myself while skiing two years ago doesn’t define me. I am defined to a much greater degree by embracing and being embraced by those who love me. 

Some Thoughts on the Currently-In-Process Transition of Political Power in USAmerica

 I did not vote for Donald Trump in the 2016 election. While I found him to be impersonal and disconnected from an average person’s reality, those judgements had nothing to do with my vote. Rather, I looked at his policy proposals and decided that my theology and political perspective differed too much from those proposals. 

I did vote for Hillary Clinton in the 2016 election. While I found her to be impersonal and disconnected from an average person’s reality, those judgements had nothing to do with my vote. Instead, I looked at her policy proposals and decided that they were more in line with my own theology and political perspective than not. 

I was disappointed that the candidate I voted for didn’t win the election in 2016, just like I’ve been disappointed every time the candidate I voted for didn’t win an election. I was disappointed by the vitriol and hatred spewed by those who were disappointed in the results of the 2008 election. I was disappointed by the vitriol and hatred demonstrated by those who were saddened by the results of the 2012 election. I was embarrassed by the vitriol and hatred embodied by those who were dissatisfied by the results of the 2016 election. 

For the past four years I’ve prayed regularly for President Trump. He was our president, elected legally by a minority of voters and a majority of the electoral college. I wished the best for him, because as our nation is successful our President is successful.

And yesterday our next president was inaugurated. I will pray regularly for President Biden because he is our president, elected legally by a majority of voters and a majority of the electoral college. I wish the best for him, because as our nation is successful then he will be successful.

The election didn’t go the way I hoped in 2016. But I’ve never once said that President Trump was not my president. I’m a citizen of the United States of America; Mr. Trump was properly elected as our President; therefore, he was my president. I disagreed with many of the decisions he made and many of the policy positions he promoted. He was the president of the nation of which I’m a citizen, so he was my president. 

One of the things I’ve heard yelled on social media is something like, “If you don’t like our president, you should move to a different country.” I disagree. Part of the founding and foundation of our nation is that we have the freedom to disagree with the ruling authorities. Healthy disagreements are essential to the health and vitality of our nation and our democratic republican government.

Those who say something like, “He’s not my president” probably should pick up and move to a different country, what they’re disagreeing with is our system of electing officials and not with a singular president’s policy decisions. I thought that over the past four years, and I think that now. 

$0.02

I Fell Down the Stairs

I fell down the stairs the other day. It was only a couple stairs, at the bottom of the staircase. It was a slow fall, and I knew it was happening. I never felt like I was in danger of injury from that fall. 

But still, I fell. And I couldn’t stop myself. It was scary, because in that moment I had no control over whether I would stop falling.

I tripped and fell again a few days later. I was stepping over something. First, I stepped over with the leg that doesn’t work like it should any more. No problem. Then the other leg followed. But since I wasn’t concentrating enough, that toe caught on the obstacle. 

And so I fell. And I couldn’t stop myself. And this time I ripped my jeans. 

Two years ago, I wouldn’t have fallen either time. When I slipped on the stairs, I would have just landed on the next step down and regained my balance. A few days later, I would have just hopped on the one leg when the other toe got caught. 

But the muscles don’t work right any more. Actually, that’s not quite right. It feels more like the electricity doesn’t work right any more - like there’s a short in my neurological system, and the signal isn’t getting to where it ought to be quickly enough. 

A few people have asked if I’m fully recovered from my injury. My common response is that I’ll never be fully recovered - that this injury will be affecting me for the rest of my life. Those words have been coming out of my mouth, but I keep on not believing them. Somewhere in my own being, I seem to expect that I’ll keep on getting better, and that one day I’ll be fully recovered. 

And then I fall down the stairs. Or I trip on the ground. Or I have use my hand to lift my leg into the car. Or I fall down while I’m putting my pants on. Or I trip and fall going up the stairs (which isn’t as potentially catastrophic as falling down the stairs). 

So, here’s my conundrum. I could accept my current physical capabilities as they are - and admittedly, I’m much more physically capable than I might have been after the injury I experienced. Or instead, I could keep trying to increase my recovery. But that means I’ll have to keep on trying to push my current limits and risk falling down the stairs again.