I am looking lovingly at my gnarly toenail on my big toe. It
is about to come off with a yellowish-purple hue and dried blood underneath.
Most people would be repulsed and cringe at the sight of such an ugly toe but
at this time I am admiring it. It is a symbol of who I was and who I want to be
again. It is a souvenir of my last trail race, an ultra-marathon. A tough
course that I was proud that I finished under the cutoff time. There are few
things more exhilarating than finishing an ultra-marathon, marathon or a long trail
race.
Yet I can’t plan any more races. I look down on the floor
next to the recliner and gaze with frustration at my crutches. They will be my
constant companions for the next month as I begin the long process of becoming
a runner again. I am so longing to lose another toenail again.
You see I am lost. I am a runner who can’t run. In fact I
can’t even walk at the moment. I remember the visit to the doctor’s office, to
discuss my MRI. Going in I knew what to expect, a torn meniscus, with surgery
to follow. I had researched the issues and was confident that while I would be
sidelined for a while it would not be very long before I could start an active
lifestyle again. Yes maybe I wouldn’t run an ultra-marathon soon but I would be
able to run and walk fairly quickly. My orthopedist walked in and handed me the
printout that described the MRI results. I was a little perplexed as to why he
gave it me because my understanding of medical terminology is very limited.
Basically when I am seeing a doctor my vocabulary is “Yes that hurts” and “Yes
I feel awful”. Despite my limited knowledge I started scanning through the
results and what I quickly spied was a separate paragraph that stated “shows no articulating meniscal tear” I
was shocked! If it’s not my meniscus what is it I thought?
He soon answered my question “You have a bone issue”. It was a stress fracture of my knee bone.
The only way for this to heal, is to not put weight on my knee. That meant
crutches for a while and even when I was feeling better one crutch or a cane. I
had to keep weight off of my right leg. No Running or even walking for a long
time. He said I wouldn’t be running again until the summer and this was
mid-March and so it was not even spring yet. I was scared because I knew that
this was going to be hard for me. I am constantly in motion and now I had to
slow down considerably. Despite my
trepidation I was still determined and told him “When I run my next 100 mile run or the state of New Jersey again. I
will let you know, so that other patients know what is possible.”
My bravados of that statement however was confronted
immediately as he handed me the crutches. He saw how I was looking at office
exit and ready to depart his office quickly. His parting words of advice to me
was “Think slow”. I quickly said I
would and then hobbled out of his office rather quickly on my crutches. Lesson
not learned.
Over the next few days however I learned that I would have
to not only “think slow” but move
slow. This slow action would be the quickest way to heal. That was easier said
than done. When it is in your nature to be in motion it is hard to sit still.
Even at work when I am at a meeting, I would buzz around a room talking to as
many attendees as possible. Yet now I stayed in one place.
I was always able to persevere through a race despite pain
and fatigue simply by focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other and to
keep moving. This is different. Very different. To push through, I actually have
to not move. I am worried about the side effects of this healing process.
Basically weight gain and becoming permanently lazy.
I now have a new appreciation for the difficulty that people with physical handicaps have to go through. Actions that people who are healthy do not even think about, now become obstacles. When one has to stop and think about “How am I going to get my cup of coffee from the counter to the dining room table?” you realize that this is some people’s everyday life. I come to a heavy door at a retail store and have to pause to contemplate how I am going to get in. My handicap is temporary and I am grateful.
While I cannot use some of my most basic strategies that I
used in ultra-marathons to heal this time. There is one strategy I can and will
use. That is to break the challenge up into smaller more attainable challenges.
For example when I was running almost two hundred miles from the top of New
Jersey to the bottom. I rarely thought of the entire feat. That would seem to
daunting especially if you are exhausted. Even if I had completed over seventy-five
percent of the run at a hundred and fifty miles and there was only forty-six
miles left. That last forty-six miles seemed daunting. No I broke it up to just
getting to the next aid station and that was usually around eight miles or so.
It kept me fresher and focused on what was immediately in front of me.
Everything was attainable.
I am doing that with this challenge. Yes I hate just sitting
around. Yes I am itching to just get up and walk. Yes this is hard for me. Yet
I just say every day I can get through this day. Unlike a race in which I may
push through some of the aches and pains. Now I am in tune with my body to see
if my pain is diminishing. Every time I sense it is getting better it gives me
incentive to continue the process.
I won’t lie. This is killing me. Whenever you watch a video
of an athlete’s comeback, it is a video of them working out hard, sweat pouring
from their body an inspirational music like from the movie Rocky playing in the
background. My video would be of a man sitting in a recliner reading a book or
scrolling through his cellphone with the sound of a clock ticking in the
background. Hardly inspirational.
There is one other thing that I have to overcome and that is
doubt. I know at my age (63) this may take time to heal and that even when I
run again I may have to alter my training. Yet I hear the doubt in others when
they hear about my injury. A common retort is “You are getting old” or “age
is finally catching up.” It really stings because they may be right. I feel that some are thinking “Ray, you gave it a great run but Father
Time is undefeated.” Yet this may be my biggest motivator. I like the
challenges of aging. I like the challenge of doing the difficult. I don’t need
to win a race… just finish it.
I know that most people will not understand this desire to
push my body to its limits but it is who I am. Then again they probably don’t
understand my desire to one day to lose another toenail.
