The Waiting Game

Two weeks after my collarbone break, I find my health status and daily routine mostly the same.

I visited an orthopedic on Friday with hope of better-than-expected news: hope that the bone was healing faster than forecasted, that I would be running in a few days, and that the sling was no longer needed.

That was not the case. The break had not yet reattached and if anything it had displaced a little further. I was relieved that this is typical during the first two weeks, and the displacement was still not significant enough to require surgery. No surgery required yet, at least, but I have to keep resting. I still require the sling, at least for a few more weeks. I am “nowhere near running.”

So, I find myself playing a waiting game. Removed from most physical activity, I’m spending more time reading and writing. I’m trying to focus on the silver lining of the situation: I’m sleeping better, relaxing, and healing. I’m trying to do what I can do well without too much worry over what I can’t do. I’ve been down this road before. Last year ended in the exact same fashion for me.

Though I had initial thoughts that my cycling days might be over, I found myself spending the weekend watching videos of bikepacking trips through mountains and forests. The videos left me envious, motivated, and inspired. Of course I’ll be back on the bike. Falling is a natural part of the process. I’ve had some great adventures and don’t want those to end. There’s something I get by being out in the wild that I cannot find anywhere else. As most bikepackers will tell you, there’s often a search for some deeper meaning at the start of the journey. Whether or not it’s found is pretty irrelevant. Something is found regardless.

There is another silver lining: I am more immersed in my own thought. I’m more attuned to what I want and where I see myself going. I’ll have more vigor when I am finally moving around like my old self. I’ve gained some intentionalism.

As I wait for the bone to heal, I also remind myself that we tend to have short-term memories when it comes to pain. What can seem unbearable in the moment is quickly a distant memory. We can try to recapture the agony, but it’s as though our minds usher the feeling out of our neurons completely.

Eventually this collarbone injury will be a memory too. I’ll be back on a bicycle with recollection that breaking it hurt, but the extent of how badly it hurt will be lost. And maybe that’s for the best. We’d never take another risk again if our minds kept acute memories of every bump and bruise.