Bike Time: 45 minutes
Distance: 7.75 miles
I ran into a dad from the Boy's soccer team today at the grocery store. A big smile came across his face when he saw me.
"Wow! No crutches or brace!" he said. He was genuinely happy to see me out and about without assistance.
"Yeah, I am still slow, though," I said, sounding like giant wet blanket, extinguishing his enthusiasm. What is wrong with me? I should let this guy be happy for me. But I am slow. My son showed me a video posted on YouTube where a boat crashes into a dock in San Diego. At the 17 second mark, there is an elderly woman in red who can't walk fast and the boat is approaching. (Spoiler: She does not get hurt, at least as far I can I tell.) I feel like this lady on a daily basis. If a boat crashes into a pier where I am walking or zombies attack, I'll be one of the first gone.
I know it is a big deal to be able to walk, and I am glad that I can. So why I am not as thrilled as everyone else is that I am hobbling around? Maybe I am a giant whiner, but I would like to think this is not the case. The point of my physical therapy is to get me back to sports, not just walk down the street. I've heard the NFL has a policy that players with repaired ACL's have to wait twelve months before they can return to play. There is a Cubs player who just tore his ACL and he'll be out for the entire season. Are these guys "happy" when they can walk again when they still have eight to eleven months of further rehab in front of them? Meh. In this case, the glass is about an eighth full--something is better than nothing. And yet... Walking is good, but it isn't sufficient.
What do canoeing, golfing and bowling have in common? These are the things my family is doing during our stay-cation Spring Break that I can't do yet because of my knee. Argh. You can drink while doing all three of these activities and yet, I can't manage to do them sober. I can't get in and out of a canoe, I can't swing a golf club and I can't bend my legs enough to bowl. It is really a bummer to think that people can bowl after downing a pitcher of beer and I can't do the little mini-jog to the line before releasing the ball. On another happy note, these three activities can easily be enjoyed by people over the age of seventy. How many senior citizens do you know who don't golf, bowl, or canoe? Or if they don't, they could if they wanted to? These activities could be done by drunk senior citizens, but not me. (Note: This is not meant to insult seniors or drunk people. I have many good friends and family members who are seniors, and I hope to someday join their ranks.)
The sports medicine people and the surgeons list the things you can't do without an ACL: skiing, tennis, soccer, and basketball. I kind of don't buy it that the list of thing someone can't do without an ACL would be so short. Surely, we did not evolve with an ACL just to do these four sports. Is it reasonable to say I want to get better so I can bowl? No. I want to get better so I can go out and about with my family when they are out and about. And I have an "out and about" family. (See previous posts about my family's out-and-about-ness here and here.) Bowling, canoeing and golfing are lame compared to zip-lining, mountain biking and white water rafting, which were activities in one vacation.
In the good news department, I spent forty-five minutes on the stationary bike the today. Yay! This is a milestone for my endurance, but I am not sure I am going to tell my physical therapist just yet. (I am actually horrible at keeping minor secrets.) Once I can ride for forty-five minutes, that means I (or they) can start cranking up the resistance on the bike and my strength training phase starts to kick in, which, honestly, I am not looking forward to. I will look forward to the "return to yoga" or "take a barre class" phase, but weight training has never been my thing. I want to gain a little more confidence with the endurance phase before I start increasing the resistance on the bike. I feel fine while I am riding (and could go even longer perhaps), but afterwards my knee isn't too happy with me. That seems to be the theme of physical therapy so far--I work hard, and feel tired afterwards. This is a pooped out tired, not a "that forty mile bike ride was great" tired. I am always at the edge of trying harder and harder. And when I get good at something, then it changes and I have to do something new and harder. And I have to do this hard work before I can return to easy stuff, like golf, bowling and canoeing.
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