The Post-Mountain Hangover

Since returning from my mountain trip in Bozeman, Montana, I’ve resumed my normal “adult” routine.

I try to run a little farther farther each week. This morning I completed nearly 12 miles (19 km) at a steady and moderate pace. I have specific running goals in mind, but they’re for only me to know. I want to test my limits. I was an elite swimmer, but never a competitive runner. Maybe I’m in a battle with my age and refuse to accept that a gradual decline looms nearer. It’s true that I refuse to believe that decay will eventually win. I’ll deny it to the end, fists clenched.

I have wondered when my running will stall. When will I hit a plateau? At what point will I have overtrained and need an extended rest? I’m having fun because I’m improving, but I won’t improve forever. What then?

I try to counterbalance my quest for a specific running speed with fun. Some days, I remind myself, it’s just better to skip “run day” and ride a skateboard, or ride a bike at a slow pace along a greenway. I don’t want my training to define my life; I want to define my training.

To be completely consumed by athletic pursuits is to submit oneself to something akin to a permanent state of war. Life’s too short to keep that mindset forever. Fun is a preferred alternative. I think one can “commit” without being “consumed.” There is a line between the two.

I continue to ride my bicycle to and from work. For each trip to the office, that’s 38 miles (61 km). There is no “winning” in this commute because I engage in a race against no one. My main reward is improved health. The car drivers make the commute faster than me and do so without breaking a sweat. However, every convenience brings a host of unintended consequences. Cars have the advantage of air conditioning, a favorite playlist, a gas or electric powered engine, and a cushioned seat. Then again, nothing destroys the body more quickly than sitting. In an ideal life, I never sit.

Instead of the car, I choose the summer heat, bugs smacking against my face as I pedal along quiet roads before the crack of dawn, a jersey soaked with sweat, the occasional thigh cramp, and the occasional storm to withstand. This gives me the pride of knowing I can do something that very few can or ever will.

On Foot Rehab

Summary of foot issues following a car hit in August (long story short, a car hit me while I was cycling, knocking me off my bike and onto the tarmac; the ankle turned the wrong direction upon hitting the road, causing sprains on both sides of the foot and severe internal inflammation and bruising).

• Had the first and second physical therapy sessions for the right foot this week.

• The foot unfortunately had a setback last week after a one-minute running attempt (felt pain the next few days, telling me that running is a bad idea). This spurred me into signing up for therapy.

• Physical therapist confirmed running won’t happen in 2021 (bummer, but I figured).

• Muscles causing issues were identified in the session and a path to healing was set in action.

• Most severe damage noted in muscle tissue along the left part of the lower leg, which stretches into the foot and ends in the bottom-left part of foot. This is the primary source of pain when attempting a run or aggressive walk.

• Severe inflammation on upper part of the foot caused issues with healing and issues with connectivity with bones; this is why there isn’t much bend, especially in squat-type movements.

• Both ankles were sprained; ligaments in each need to strengthen and heal.

Plan: 3x physical therapy sessions per week. Foot rehabilitation exercises to be performed 2x per day.

In summary, the car crash messed up my foot pretty badly. However, I’m stoked to have a path to healing, and even more stoked that the foot can heal, timeline be damned.

Also thankful that I can still ride a bike without much worry.

Here’s to closing out 2021 on a positive note. It’s gonna feel great to exercise without pain again and I’m getting closer.

An Axe for the Dragon - Thoughts on Aging

As I rehab my ankle I find my thoughts more frequently drifting towards the subject of aging.

Regarding aging, I am approaching what many people regard as the “start of the downhill trajectory,” also known as the late 30s. Things are supposed to slow down in the latter half of the 30s, and I guess they do. Recovery takes longer, muscles get weaker, and hair gets grayer. Time is an undefeated opponent; that’s what science says.

It seems there are several options regarding how to approach aging:

• Accept the body’s inevitable decay and acquiesce to its deterioration. Do what most do: allow the body to transform into an old vegetable, a shell that breathes but doesn’t live, imprisoned within a retirement home.

• Fight aging relentlessly in a futile quest to “stay on top”. This is essentially a lifelong struggle to “remain close to the peak.” You aren’t fighting to defeat the inevitable slowdown, only to delay it. The “quest to fade less quickly.”

• Age with moderation, somewhere between the other two options. Remain active, but not intense. Take walks, but accept that the adventures of yesteryear must be replaced by garden walks.

Regarding these options, I vote to reject both moderation and surrender. Full speed ahead! Bring me the Grand Canyon rapids. If my 80-year-old body can’t handle them, let the turbulent waters swallow me as I fight to reach the end.

If, one day, scoffers say that the future 80-year-old man that I am is delusional for thinking himself still a warrior, I say I’ll pick up the metaphorical axe and let fate decide.

Metaphorically speaking, when I think of aging and death I think of the film Reign of Fire, specifically the Matthew McConaughey character, Van Zan.

In arguably the greatest death scene to ever grace a bad movie, Van Zan stands on top of a building, realizing his dragon adversary is going to kill him. He has lost his battle.

So what does Van Zan do? He suicidally jumps off the building with his battle axe, preferring to die fighting. The dragon devours the defiant and screaming Van Zan as he attempts one final swing of his axe at the beast!

If the dragon is death, I’ll gladly be Van Zan. And on my way into the dragon’s throat I’ll shout, “Come on, big boy!”