Square Wheels

"Wow, you caught me off guard," commented my surgeon after I asked him how he was doing as he entered the examination room.  It was my 3 month anniversary visit after having my Achilles detached from my heel bone for some repair work. "So seldom does a patient ask a doctor how he is doing... I'm fine, thank you for asking.  And how are you?" he queried.

Hmmm...my inner voice stalled...How do I answer this properly?

At the 6 week anniversary visit, Doc told me to let pain be my guide in terms of how far to take my rehabilitation (I'm glad he doesn't know me very well).  Naturally, I took his words very literally and pushed the limit on a daily basis where I quickly recognized my surgery/injury was very, very debilitating.  I'd go to CrossFit classes and do wallballs, kettlebell swings, etc from a chair because my bad leg was in no way prepared to support any weight.  I'd carefully stretch and flex the tendon, ad nauseam, in an attempt to increase the range of motion.  Regardless of the activity, the tendon was, and still is, a whiny, bitchy nuisance that I throw my middle finger at and receive a evil snicker in return.

I turn up the resistance, the pressure, the weight, the whatever and press forward to the point of reaching the forecasted pain threshold only to be rewarded with a sly chuckle from the complaining tendon.

It simply pisses me off and drives me harder to kick it in the ass...to show it that I won't be the common patient, but the one that defies the odds and is back to normal life in record time.  Everyday, as if forewarning the tendon of the fothcoming ass-kicking, I growl at it.  I recognize the potential of ripping it back off the bone, but I feel that I've honed in on the limit in which I will make it sore, but not damage the mending attachment. I grit my teeth and take it to the limit and, on days I go too far, ice provides a soothing frostbite to calm the angry Achilles. 

So, I feel like I've been following Doc's orders, albeit a little extreme, but I yearn to be back in the mountains, listening to my thumping playlists, daydreaming all glassy-eyed and running on the trails experiencing Mother Nature. And, I want that to happen...NOW!

My inner voice reflects on his question of how I'm doing. After thinking about it for awhile, my response was an analogy which accurately portrays what the status is with my bad leg.

"I'm recovering...but when I even try to run, my gait is so lopsided and awkward that it's like I'm on a bicylce with square wheels."