Agility

I ran across some photos of me on a church league softball team that reminded me of how I used to be able to move. I was never the best athlete, but I used to be fairly light on my feet, relatively nimble, and capable of at least passable proficiency at almost any physical activity I spent much time attempting. I'm not nearly so nimble on the baseball diamond any longer. 

I also discovered that I'm also not nearly as agile at tennis as I once was. We got out onto the court recently with the elementary school aged boys, who had never played tennis before. I was about like you'd expect, including a few times when the ball was lobbed over my head. As I turned and started heading back to the baseline, I realized that at one time it would have been easy to make that shot; and now I wasn't going to get there in time. Walking is hard enough. Running in a straight line is tough, and making a turn takes a lot of concentration. Running while looking over my shoulder and needing to move to one side or the other is almost disastrous (if falling and scraping my knee is a disaster). 

Someone recently asked me if, early on in the post-accident recovery, riding a bike was easier than walking. At that time I had to strap a crutch to my bike so that I could walk when I got where I was going. So, yes. When I first got on a bike again, cycling was easier than walking. In fact, even now cycling is easier for me than walking. When I'm on a bike, I can just ride. When I'm walking now, if I want to not stumble, I generally have to consciously think pretty specifically about which muscles to engage. 

And walking is certainly easier than playing tennis, or baseball, or basketball, or soccer, or racquetball, or volleyball. But I had fun on the tennis court. And it might be fun to try any of those other games again, too. I guess that means I have to add some agility work back into my fitness routine. 

Annual 14er climb

I have a tradition. Every year, on or near my birthday, I climb (or attempt to climb) one of the Colorado 14ers - mountains that reach to higher than 14,000 feet above sea level. I missed attempting a climb three years ago, because at that time I was still using crutches to walk down the sidewalk. 

These days even though I don’t need to use crutches to walk down the sidewalk, I still use trekking poles when I go hiking. They help me keep my balance when I’m navigating tricky parts of the trail, and they help me keep my balance on the simple and straightforward parts of the trail. 

The view from high on Huron Peak

This year we climbed Huron Peak. It’s one of the mountains that barely rises high enough to qualify as a 14er, topping out at 14,006 (according to 14ers.com). It’s one of the mountains that has a really straightforward and simple (but not necessarily easy) trail to the top. 

And I struggled. I struggled with (a lack of) fitness. I struggled with breathing at that elevation (related, at least in part, to the previously-mentioned lack of fitness). I struggled, like I do regularly, with making sure my foot ended up where I intended it to end up for almost every step of the 9.6 mile round trip. I struggled with lack of stamina, ending the hike completely worn out and stumbling over flat ground in the final two miles to the car. 

I continue to deal with the effects of a spinal cord injury that I sustained a few years ago, and I continue to deal with (relatively minor) mobility issues as a result of that spinal cord injury. The injury slows me down a little bit, especially compared to how much I might have been slowed down, if the effects from the injury were more significant. Basically, it slows me down enough that I’m frustrated by how I move, especially because I remember how I was able to move through the high country before the accident. 

And at the same time, even though I walk slowly and carefully and sometimes awkwardly, I actually am able to walk - not only down the sidewalk, but also through the high country. 

I’m continually back and forth - always thankful that I can move as well as I can, and always frustrated at what I’ve lost. 

Here’s the thing, at least for right now. Even though I am able to walk, I still wish I could still leap between boulders, and hop down steep trails, and bound down the smooth trail. I can continue to work on stamina and fitness. But I still lament that I might never have the ability to move through the mountains, or anywhere, the way I used to.

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. 

Lamenting and Rejoicing: Some Thoughts on Goals

“What are your goals for fitness if you join this gym?” the coach/owner asked me when I applied for membership.

“I want to be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want to” was my reply. (It was only later on that I added “I want to be able to get off the toilet when I’m 90” to the list of goals.)

For a while I felt like I’d accomplished that goal (the first one – I’m not 90 yet). I wasn’t the fittest; I wasn’t the fastest; I wasn’t the strongest. But there was a good chunk of time when I felt like there wasn’t much I wouldn’t have been able to get up and go to at a moment’s notice.

That all changed about four months ago. Today there are a bunch of chairs that I can’t stand up from without hoisting myself with my arms. Today I can’t walk without limping; I can’t run; and if I’m on the floor, standing up takes a lot of effort and concentration (and isn’t always a successful endeavour on the first attempt).

My current physical condition feels like a problem. Now, I’ve been known to say that the solution to every problem is to do more squats. Not strong enough? Do more squats. Bad day at work? More squats. Failing classes in school? More squats. Just got dumped by your boyfriend or girlfriend? Squats.

Today, though, I can’t do a single squat.

Don’t get me wrong – there’s a lot that I am able to do that I couldn’t do before. Three months ago I spent most of my time in a wheelchair. I rejoice in the physical capabilities I’ve recovered.

At the same time, though, one of the things that gets me more than most of the rest is that I used to be able to participate in the activities; now I find myself a bystander, watching from here what’s happening over there.

My fitness goals are still the same as before. And so, I lament what I haven’t recovered. Yet.

Continuing Recovery

I came away from my skiing accident broken. The knee that was injured (ACL and MCL) is part of the same leg that has been most significantly affected by the Spinal Cord Injury. It really didn’t work at all for at least a couple days. And when I started to be able to use it again, regaining muscular control was complicated by the fact that the ligaments weren’t doing what they were supposed to.

In addition to that leg hardly working at all, I’d lost most of my cardiovascular fitness while I was laying in the ICU for ten days – so much so that when I started PT, five minutes of balancing on my knees wore me out enough that I needed a breather. And while I made huge gains during PT, I spent most of the next five weeks in a wheelchair.

So when the inpatient portion of post-accident rehab was done, I had virtually no stamina. When I was discharged and able to be home again, every couple hours I’d have to stop what I was doing so I could lay down for a while. And when I wasn’t resting, I really wasn’t doing very much of anything except being more upright than horizontal.

It felt like a blow to my identity to need rest after a couple hours of simply existing in the world. I’ve never been the fittest guy around, but for years I’ve been able to spend a whole day going nonstop without really taking a break. Further, there are numerous times when I’ve strung together seven days like that in a row.

The physical recovery I longed for was that the mostly-broken leg would work again, and that I could regain most of the stamina that I’d lost.

Finally, over the past week or so, I’ve felt a beautiful confluence of healing. Our trip to California forced me to not stop for almost the whole day for a few days in a row ... which served to increase my stamina. And just this past week, one of the muscles that hasn’t worked for months finally started engaging again ... which allows my whole body to work more like it’s supposed to.

Add to that the fact that I’ve recently been able to start going on longer bike rides – bike rides on an actual bike, instead of that silly spin bike in the gym. It’s a good thing, because I’m registered for a 50k bike ride in a couple months.

The bike ride is a fundraiser for Craig Hospital. Craig is a specialty hospital which treats spinal cord injury and brain injury patients. I was inpatient there for five weeks, and continue to do Physical Therapy there as an outpatient. The staff there does phenomenal work. I’d encourage you to support Craig by making a contribution through my Pedal 4 Possible fundraising page

I’m not quite ready to take on the course I’ve registered for. Lucky for me I have time to build enough stamina between now and then.

On A Bike Again

I got on a bike again.

It was awkward, and slow, and tough to start & stop, and scary. I can only manage about 60% of the speed I once was able to maintain, and have stamina for maybe 20% of the distance.

But I can ride a bike again.

A year ago, I started figuring out how to spend more time riding than I had before. Racing a road bicycle, riding more challenging mountain bike trails, plotting bikepacking trips through remote and beautiful places, learning how to ride and race on a velodrome, and seeing how quickly (and how slowly) I could make my two-wheeled commute.

A day ago, I struggled at the end of an easy six mile ride that we had taken a 20 minute break in the middle of.

But I was on a bike again.

One day, in a flurry of broken bones up and down my back, all the planning and preparation and fitnessing drifted away like a dandelion puff ball on the current of a kid’s breath, and the bikes gathered dust for a while. Since then, I’ve figured out that I can lash a crutch to my bike so I’m able to walk when I get where I’m going. And it’s joyous to be able to move in a way that I’ve loved since before the age of 10, when I was skidding coaster brakes on gravel roads.

I’m getting back on bikes again.

Ski Accident Recovery: Out of the Torso and Neck Braces

Good news today. The neurosurgeon (who didn’t do surgery on me) told me today that the fractures in my spine are healed enough to not need the braces any more.

Halleluia!

I’ve been counting down the days for a couple weeks and counting down the hours for four days, waiting for the moment when I’d be free of those constraints. And I’ve been dreaming and worrying that I’d be sitting in the exam room and the doctor would tell me that I wasn’t healed enough to get rid of them.

Fortunately for me, we got good news today.

And then I experienced myself getting really slow and tentative, because this is all so new.

See, I’ve been in that turtle shell for so long that I’ve become somewhat dependent on it. All the muscles underneath the brace, which I haven't really used for months, have weakened to the point that I expect I’ll be exhausted by simply sitting up in a chair. And even though it was a pain to put on, take off, and exist in, I feel really vulnerable without the protection it provided, like I'm in danger of breaking.

But it’s time, and I’m thankful for being able to take the next step in this recovery that I’ve been working on for a few months. Right now, though, after being free of the braces for less than three hours, I think I’m gonna go take a nap.

Ski Accident Recovery: Reflections on getting off the toilet

I used to tell people that I did my best to stay fit because I want to be able to get off of the toilet when I’m 90 years old. Thing is, today, at age 48, I have trouble standing up from the toilet without assistance.

Yep. I spent years riding bikes and running and swimming and hiking and climbing and playing volleyball & basketball – and I spent most of my 40s lifting and gymnasticsing and HIITing so I could be in good shape. Today, however, I walk slowly and with a limp. And I haven’t been this weak since … maybe, ever.

It feels unfair, that after the work I did to gain fitness, it’s gone in a moment. One day I had the physical capacity to do almost anything I wanted to do. The next day I didn’t get out of the ICU bed. And when I did get up days later, I couldn’t stand up even with help from four people.

I don’t expect this to be my permanent reality. I’m stronger today than I was at the end of March. I’m stronger today than I was in early May when I was released from the hospital. I’m probably stronger today than I was last week. In the ‘clouds and silver lining’ category, that makes me happy.

So, I suppose my current project is similar to my project before the accident – get stronger, get fitter, so that I have an easier time getting off the toilet at 90 than I do at 48.