Life on the Left Leg
Maybe you saw my Facebook Live the other morning, but I’m not too proud to admit that this is hard and I’m having a hard time. I blog this experience for the many mountain runners, road runners, obstacle course racers, CrossFit athletes, and anyone who could eventually end up in this arena.
I’m 1.5 weeks into a 6-8 week, no-weight bearing, life on one leg, recovery lifestyle. I have had two post-op doc visits and two casts. I took the pain meds the first week, but I refuse to take them anymore.
Here’s more of what this recovery is like…
The Physical
Because I am who I am, I am trying really hard not to ask for help. I’ve become proficient at the stairs in my office, no longer scooting on my butt, and I can hop on my left leg for significant distances. I get tired and have to take breaks, but I’m able to get around.
The pain is just dull. Not too sharp, but always there, and every now and then, presenting in unexpected locations of my foot, ankle, and lower leg. My left leg, in contrast, is getting a lot stronger and I am definitely becoming more ambidextrous.
I do my best to play with babyKai, but she’s so fast and mobile and I just can’t keep up. Learned this the hard way when I went outside with her and she took off down the sidewalk, towards the road, and I had no one with me to take over. Just when I didn’t think I could “crutch” any faster, a stranger ran over to help, then neighbor friends, and disaster was thwarted, thank God, but it scared me and made me realize just how incapable I really am right now. It is NOT business as usual at Live for a Living.
At the end of the day I just feel weak, handicapped, useless, and a burden on my family and friends. Say what you want about, “let people help you,” and all that, but it’s just not as simple as that. You’ll see…
The Mental
I’m working a lot. Haven’t skipped a beat there. Was back in the office the next day, but not having a physical outlet makes me daydream a lot. I dream of running the Volcanos in Nicaragua, or surfing Pavones in Costa Rica, or shit, even helping Race Director and friend, Richard Morgan, put out directional signs for the Tortola Torture, one of my favorite ultramarathons on Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.
….honestly, I daydream even about the little adventures like practicing muscle ups in my hot, smoldering CrossFit gym surrounded by strong women in booty shorts and beefcake young cats pushing me to be better.
Losing pieces of identity kinda sucks.
The Emotional
Mental and emotional can be very similar to me, but for the most part I just feel lonely. I have no family outside of California and Ohio. I know a lot of people, but I don’t feel like I have a lot of friends. I don’t really have anyone who comes by to hang out, or or take me to the beach to watch everyone surf, or even to eat. I have more Facebook friends checking up on me than real people with whom I speak to regularly. My friend Chuck took me to lunch the other day and while it felt good to just “hang,” I couldn’t avoid the “what happened to YOU?” people nor the stares of strangers.
Update: Sean “Surfhog” Keane did bring me flowers and Saké, so I guess I have one friend :)
Trust me, there is no badge of honor here. Yea, I did this running across the USA for charity, and that’s all good and noble, but I should have taken care of this long before it got this bad. I can’t believe I ran 52 miles, or whatever I hobbled through, at Six Days in the Dome.
I’m not a very bright man.
Cue Alice in Chains
So, yea, I’m down in a hole right now. Won’t be forever, but I’m here now, and that’s ok. I need to see it, feel it, experience it, …then, change it.
Its a process. Probably much like the grief process.
I’ll be back. Just not today.