Le Mem
I was up at the Steadman Hawkins Clinic last Monday. I had my eight week checkup, and as I expected (considering I live with this hip of mine everyday), they said I’m on target and chugging ahead, need a stronger core though.
After my appointment I chatted with Terie, Dr. Philippon’s Nurse Practioner, one of the most sincere and caring people I have ever met. The conversation circulated around hips of course, but delved more into what life is like with a busted hip. And what life is like while recovering from major surgery on arguably the most active joint in one’s body. I feel that there are very few people that I can speak candidly with about my hip. Simply because I feel it would hard for most individuals to understand the deepness and complexity of this experience without experiencing something similar, really.
That conversation got me thinking, hell I had a two hour drive back to bTown with no decent radio stations around. I got to thinking about the story I’ve rehearsed so many times that is almost no longer sincere. I realized that time (amongst other things) had helped me forget what I once I loved. How’d you hurt your hip, people ask me. I hurt it running in the mountains, I always say. Running in the mountains? Ya, I love running on trails… blah blah blah blah, blah. You’ve probably heard me say it if you know me. Rehearsed and dispassionate, that’s what that story was/is.
The stark realization that my passion was gone hurt, but then again reality often does. I started thinking about some of the memories I’d logged in the mountains. Like the time I got my tail kicked by Galen and Peter up at the continental divide. Racing up Pikes Peak or summiting Bear Peak with a personal best. During each of those trips, and countless more, I could feel myself glowing, excited, at levels that were rare to me, and most certainly treasured. These were emotions I could not get enough of, but I loved to try. Loneliness was never a thought, simply pushing further and harder. Thinking back I realized my mountain experiences fed me, the whole me, they’d leave me glowing for days. They made me high.
It’s been over a year since the last time my body felt whole. I’ve missed race after race and experience after experience. It has been a hard and bitter emotional battle. With athletics defining almost every part of my first 24 years, it has taken many feats of interpersonal strength to turn down offers of ultimate frisbee, cycling, and ping pong with a smile. It has been hard to watch people fly through the streets of Boulder biking and running. To watch people in the park rolling around or tossing a disc. To watch young kids play baseball or the elderly walking their dogs. I’ve found myself depressed at times. I’m not really sure of the clinical definition of that condition, but I know that I have not been me. I have been down and unexcited about things I used to live for. I hate that, I hate those feelings. I’ve tried to fill the gaps to no avail. I am waiting. I am me and I am waiting. It doesn’t help that patience is running thin.
I hit the start of week 9 last Thursday. I’d been waiting a long time. Karen tied a rubber cord to my waist and let me run in place for two minutes at a time. No pain. Then I got to do side to side lunges. Two minutes at a time and sweating profusely, I finished each set with no pain, but lots of fatigue. I was smiling ear to ear and I’m nearly crying now thinking of those feelings. I missed them and now I almost have them back. I described the experience to my brother over IM, “It was so stupid, running in place, but I loved it”.
Filed by ryanroth at May 24th, 2007 under Life, Young & Hip