This can be a bit unsettling at first, even strangely discouraging unless and until you realize that this is natural, reasonable, and not at all unique to ACL injury. From migraines to ankle sprains, broken bones to cancer, your damaged physical condition is important to you. And even if you are fortunate enough to have well meaning, genuinely sympathetic friends and/or family, there will still likely be between you and them a gap in the perception of the importance or severity or impact of your injury or illness. It's not because they don't care - they really do. It's because there is, by the very nature of physical injury or illness, a fundamentally personal element to it that cannot be entirely shared or fully understood by anyone else.I thought about this from a related perspective a few weeks ago as I considered the doctor who recently performed reconstructive knee surgery on Tiger Woods. Woods, in case you’ve been living in a cave for the past ten years, is a legend of golf - and right up to surgery he was still winning, still breaking records. It is exceptionally rare that a person dominates a sport like Woods has. Jordan, Gretzky, Armstrong. The list of athletes who have existed at this level is very short. I don’t even really like golf all that much and yet still I am fascinated by the play of Tiger Woods. His recent mid-career knee surgery had to be one of the most important medical procedures ever in golf, perhaps in all of sports. I wonder if the surgeon considered that. I wonder if he prepared any differently. Or if he was just a little more focused than usual as he made that first incision into the skin of Tiger’s injured knee. I mean, this is one seriously important knee. That said, I can tell you this without hesitation - to me, my knee is far more important. Even as a truly ardent admirer of Woods (and believe me I am pulling for him) if for some reason I had to choose between a successful recovery of my knee or his, well, let’s just say that the only amazing golf shots Tiger would be making in the future would be the one's that sneak into the tunnel passed the spinning windmill. In this respect I suppose I have to admit I am unapologetically selfish. The fact is, the only people on earth to whom I would give away my chance at recovery are my own two kids. Sorry Tiger.
If you’ve been following this blog (and certainly if you’re reading this far, you must have been) then you know that yesterday was the Tour de Tahoe – the annual bike ride around beautiful Lake Tahoe. “Bike Big Blue”, they call it. I had been “officially” training for about eight weeks for the ride, although I suppose in some sense I'd really been working toward it nearly every day since last Christmas when I first summoned for the Advil and a bag of ice. With a few 50-mile training rides from recent weeks under my belt, I knew that unless something catastrophic occurred, I would be able to finish the roundtrip around Big Blue. What I didn’t know was how fast or strong I would be. Turns out my knee did about as well as I expected - no major problems except the usual pains in the first couple of miles and then later when I tried to stand and pedal through some of the climbs. I kept a close watch on a slight pull in my left hamstring (likely the result of weeks of compensating for the right knee) and I focused on adequate fueling, starting hours before the 7am ride.
The event nearly ended early for me at mile 26 while I was spinning along at full speed in a tightly arranged paceline with five other riders. As we closed on a rider in front of us, he abruptly slowed and swerved into our path, resulting in the bodies and bikes in our group colliding into each other. Amazingly, no one went down, although there was of course a healthy release of yelling and profanities afterwards – the “no blood, no foul” rule definitely does not apply to road biking. A couple of hours later I had another wake up call as I went through Incline Village and only barely avoided a rabid squirrel in the road who frantically changed directions six times in about a second as he desperately tried to remember the number one rule of squirrel-bike engagement – was it run toward bikes or away from them??? - aaaahhh!!!Other than those two bits of excitement, the ride went essentially without incident. Intoxicated by thoughts of the imminent finish line I did begin to lose my focus on hydration at around mile 50 but thankfully didn't really pay for it until a few hours later when my calves and feet cramped up and curled into pretzels at the after-ride pool party. The final big climb (Spooner Junction) was just as mind numbingly long as I remembered but I still made it over, and much stronger than expected, repeatedly announcing "on your left" like a broken record as I passed riders over the final few miles. In the end, I crossed the finish line 17 minutes faster than in 2006 when I did the same ride with two perfectly good knees, so there was definitely an overwhelming sense of victory and accomplishment above and beyond the simple joy of just completing the route.
I have to admit I was somewhat surprised by how emotional I was at the finish. My wife and kids had stayed at home with lingering colds, so I just slowly rode around the finish area, alone and rather aimlessly for about fifteen minutes after I crossed the line. With an abrupt deep breath I finally let go of some painfully overdue tears as I considered how long the last eight months had seemed. Those first few nervous appointments, the incessant knocking of the MRI machine, the earliest realizations that my knee would never be the same – all of it seems now like it was years ago. I can barely even remember what it was like eating, working, sleeping, literally living full-time on a blow up mattress in my family room in the weeks following surgery. After I had processed the initial rush of thoughts and feelings and pulled myself together, I handed my camera to a man waiting for someone at the finish line and I rode back under the banner while he captured the re-enacted moment of my triumph. Paper signs made by my kids and taped to the window of my hotel room overlooked the scene at the finish. With the exception of my missing family it was a perfect day and a wonderful ride.
Interestingly, today I have a few of the usual post-ride aches and pains but my knee is not among them. In fact, my knee, which six months ago was only barely able to support my weight at all, actually feels noticeably better today than it did before the ride. It is as if it’s trying to tell me something - and apparently my doctor agrees. At my six month follow-up a few weeks ago I asked Dr. Stone if he thought I would need a second surgery to fix whatever is still wrong with my knee. “If it was my knee", he said with a smile, "I wouldn’t touch it. Just keep riding the hell out of your bike.” Sweet man. He always knows just what to say.
TdT 2008 STATS
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Distance: 72.5 miles
Elevation: 6,300 - 7,100 feet
Total Gain: ~3000 feet
Max Speed: 49 mph
Average Speed: 17.2
Ride Time: 4:13
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