SIDELINED

I woke up pretty grumpy this morning.  I have been experiencing some problems with my trusty knees and I finally went to see the doctor about it last week. That’s why I was grumpy today. That and the fact I am sitting in an imaging center lobby at 6:30 am waiting for an MRI.

As a child I was always on the move. That is, when I wasn’t hanging upside-down in ‘my’ tree. Now that I’m 61 I’m still pretty much always on the move. I have learned over the years to honor my energy level by hiking, backpacking, bicycling, canoeing and, if I can’t be outside, by dancing or taking Zumba and yoga classes. So when something sidelines me, I’m just not happy.

Theoretically, I should be staying off my feet as much as possible. My very initial diagnosis (pending MRI results) is damage to the medial collateral ligament of my left knee. Injuries to the MCL may be made worse by activity, such as my usual hiking, canoeing, blah, blah, blah.  Well-meaning friends, researching this on the internet, have warned me of operations and even knee replacements, with long months of recovery. Long months of inactivity and RICE (rest, ice, compression and elevation). This is the point at which I stop listening to my friends and their words sound like blah, blah, blah. But when I really get grumpy, what’s my go-to happiness strategy? Get outside. Go for a walk. Go visit some trees in the forest.

This past weekend, trying not to project months of sitting on my sofa with my knee higher than my heart (part of the treatment strategy according to WebMD), I took myself and my friend Annie up the Catalina Highway to Mount Lemmon. The supposed purpose of the ride was to catch what we Tucsonans have to settle for when fall comes round. Small groves of aspen and a few lonely Arizona ash, gold and red respectively, high on the mountain at the top of Ski Valley. It was lovely. I hobbled the mile or so to The Meadow and felt revived. Although I certainly appreciated the fall color, the mile hike to The Meadow was my way of thumbing my nose at the pain and distress I was feeling about my injured knee. I also spent the rest of the weekend laying on my sofa with my knee higher than my heart.

My recent sidelining has given me a deeper appreciation for injured athletes. In November 2013, Lindsey Vonn, a world-class skier so pretty I would very much like to dislike her, was injured in a training run. Her injury was a knee injury. A few months later, Vonn had to announce she would not be competing in the Sochi Olympics. Now THAT’s a bummer. She is back at the Super G in Lake Alberta Canada in December, staying positive about her chances for the 2018 Olympics. And here I am, grumpy because I am probably out of El Tour de Tucson this year.

This year would be my ninth ride in El Tour de Tucson. Nine times, all but 1 of them in the shortest event, the one that varies between 35 and 45 miles. My 59^th birthday present to myself was a vow to complete the 60-mile, which I did and not dead last as I expected. ’60 before 60’ was my motto. I even rode in the rain last year. El Tour de Tucson is a touchstone for me. As long as I can ride, I can be confident this aging thing has not overtaken me.

Until this morning, I have been unable to accept anything but ‘yes’ as the answer to ‘Are you riding this year?’. I admit that last week, I already began to get used to the idea of dropping back from the 55-mile (a few miles got shaved off this year) to the 40-mile. But this is just a setback but not a forfeiture of my commitment to ride.

My friends continue to ask. Am I going to ride? The short answer is I’m unwilling to forgo the idea I can but day after day of knee pain for an injury that just does not seem to be healing, is poking little holes in my usual confidence. Maybe I can’t.

Lying perfectly still in an MRI is somewhat like meditating – except for the loud noise, of course. But to keep myself from fidgeting, I go straight to my ‘happy place’, the place where streams of thoughts come floating across my consciousness. One stream that I didn’t much care for this morning was my ruminations on how I can participate without actually riding. Just writing that makes me cringe.

Beyond the physical treatments-the operations, the physical therapy, the medications-injuries need positive thinking. I think Vonn is really good at that. World-class skier that she is, she has suffered quite a few injuries in her long career. And every time she is injured, she speaks positively about when she thinks she’ll be back on the slope.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Vonn this morning. About how her injuries don’t mean just a loss of fun and accomplishment like mine do. Hers also carries a big risk of losing lucrative endorsement deals.  Her injuries mean a potential loss of her standing in the ski business. A double whammy. At least I don’t have to think about that.

So I am hoping that my uninvited stream of thoughts about how I can participate without riding is actually a good thing – my brain finally coming to terms with the reality that I am not impervious to injury and that my body, at 61 years old, injures more easily and just doesn’t recover like it used to. Maybe, just maybe, I, too, am on the path to healing. I think you can’t heal what you won’t accept.