Sometimes I consider myself an athlete. Nothing spectacular, mind you, but dedicated in my own way. When it comes to bike racing, I’m not the strongest guy in town. But I’m not the weakest, either.
I’ve also had more than my share of sports injuries. And I mean that literally. I’m counting more than a dozen broken bones, numerous cases of sciatica, iliotibial band issues, plantar fasciitis, you name it. I have a book entitled, “The Complete Book of Running Injuries.” When I get an injury, I put a check mark next to the appropriate chapter title. After 25 years of riding, running, and triathlons, the book is littered with check marks. I’m not proud of this. It just is.
I guess you could say I push it sometimes. And I pay. I surely do pay….
So, here I am again. I’ve never been on crutches before, so this is a first, due to a new bout of sciatica. It’s like some evil puppetmaster has his hand on a red button, and on a whim, he’s sending a big-ass shock down my left leg. “Take that!” he says, with a malicious grin. And then he watches me jump like a rag doll.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s hypochondria—especially the Facebook variety. I really don’t want to hear the intimate details of your colonoscopy, and I don’t expect you to be interested in mine. So I try to just shut up about all this stuff, and carry on.
But it does raise all these existential arguments: faced with such a litany of pain and medical procedures, isn’t it appropriate to just ease up? Quit? Is it foolish for 50-somethings to be doing this stuff in the first place?
I have these discussions with my racing teammates, and my wife, all the time. Some of my teammates have summarily left the sport after having one too many injuries or accidents. Bikes sold. Kit donated to Goodwill. Done. Never riding again.
The traditional counterpoint goes like this: If we do stop, who’s to say that the next day, we won’t get hit by a car while walking across the street? And then, won’t we wish we’d been doing all that stupid risky stuff all along? At least, in the interim, we’d have been enjoying life.
I’m like a walking laboratory for these existential quandaries, since the second most joyful outdoor activity in my life, besides riding bicycles, is riding motorcycles. In effect, I’m seeking a double indemnity from disaster.
Two wheels are inherently unstable, and gravity is not always my friend. This much I’ve learned.
My wife, in her infinite wisdom (and as an accomplished athlete herself), always insists that I view this as an opportunity, rather than purgatory (my usual outlook). She should know. She’s a pretty good runner and bike rider in her own right, but she’s also had two knee surgeries and a host of other ailments. Two summers ago, a yellow jacket flew in her helmet. She briefly lost control of her mountain bike on a steep descent, and spent the next three days in the hospital with a litany of injuries.
Unlike me, she treats these things with great equanimity. Mind you, this is different from apathy or carelessness. She’s not a reckless person. But she does have an amazing ability to accept the cards she’s given, and find something positive in it: like a long-overdue period of recovery, a chance to renew some friendships, and maybe even an opportunity to read a few good books.
“When I’m injured,” she says, “I always just consider it my quiet time. I figure it’s probably good for me. And I’ll come back stronger, later.”
Given her recent penance, she figures she has a right to counsel me about these things. Plus, I’m kind of a pain in the ass (no pun intended) right now, so she has a vested interest in improving my outlook.
She’s probably right. Clearly, she’s way better at this stuff than I am.
I really wish I was so mature. Instead, I tend to fight these things like an orc in the “Lord of the Rings.” In other words, when I’m injured, I’m usually just hatin’ life.
But what if she’s right? What if, as she says, I could just “be at peace” with my body, and accept a period of downtime and convalescence?
Clearly, I’m going to have to work on that. And it’s looking like I’ll have plenty of time to think about it.