ACL recovery - 3.5 month post op

The last several days, I feel like I have withstood the initial rigors of my knee reconstruction and have finally turned the corner in terms of recovery.  This morning I tried a 3-mile run with some rolling hills and felt pretty good.  Once again, I kept it at an easy 9 minute-per-mile pace.  In fact, I feel so good that I am about to head over to the pool and get in some practice on my freestyle stroke.  My intention is to do two more of these runs this week and see what happens.  I am due back to the the Cleveland Clinic on Thursday for a checkup.

Some people have asked how the knee feels and I just tell them it feels "tight", almost as if there were a tensioner in my knee that someone had ratcheted up.  On occasion, I'll feel a pop or shift as a tendon seeks its alignment.  I can only hopefully assume that there will come a day where my left knee will operate as smoothly as my right one.

As far as my lower body weight lifting routine, I am now moving about as much weight for most exercises as I was prior to the injury.  The big exception, of course, would be the seated leg extension exercise.  Last week, Rob and I took baseline measurements for the Y Balance Test.  We keep increasing the weights and the difficulty of the PT exercises.  All cone drills look good so far including the karaoke and the side-to-side movement.  Swimming is coming along very slowly but that really doesn't have anything to do with my knee.

When this all first happened, I was concerned that my running days might be over or at the very least, greatly curtailed.  Age has never been a limit I have placed on myself whatsoever and those of you that know me surely would agree that this is true.  However, being 46, I had no idea of the effect age would have on my recovery.  I understand that those PR running times are going to become increasingly precious commodities.  I also realize that I have a ways to go before I get back on the trail but what is important is that I now BELIEVE that I will be back racing by January of 2011.  If this morning was any harbinger of things to come, then watch out because I am about to unleash a lot of positive energy and love into the world.    

Finally, I forgot to mention where I did my run this morning.  My sister Lauren, brother-in-law Randy and I went down to the New River Gorge in West Virginia yesterday to see if there were any autumn colors out.  It seems like we are about two weeks away.  Nevertheless, the scenery and beauty of the area offered a nice 24-hour respite from work.  The view from Grandview Point is something I could stare at for hours ...

ACL recovery - 3 months post op ... and beautiful southern Virginia

It's hard to believe that 3 months have flown by since the surgery.  I've done several "walk 3 miles/run 1 mile" routines since my last entry and the knee seems to be holding together.  It does complain a little bit if I get after business at a swimming lesson but so far all systems are a go.  Next week, I'll start doing 2 mile runs.  These are done on flat rail-trail and at an easy 9 minute/mile pace.  My lower body weight routine is picking up to the point where I am nearing the weights I was doing prior to the surgery on some of my exercises.  Rob has me doing plyometrics galore now as we make our way into the advanced training phase of the MOON protocol.  In fact, Rob told me the end of our time together is in sight and he'll turn it all over to me.  Beth has me working on increasing my endurance in the pool, by occasionally switching to a 5:1 freestyle stroke, and I am now starting to work on open turns.  It seems crazy that only a couple of months ago, Beth had to enter the kid's pool with me to teach me how to put my head underwater!  Finally, Jack Andrish has clearly spelled out a logical running program leading to a release date of December 9th that will culminate in my being "race-ready" by next spring.  Of course, there are many variables that play into this.            

Over the holiday, I had the opportunity to head down to southern Virginia to "slackpack" Mike and Dave Frazier, as they continue their Appalachian Trail thru-hike, from the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area on into the town of Damascus.  If you've never had the experience of seeing southern Virginia, particularly in the fall, then you are really missing out.  Several times I've been asked what was my favorite part of the Appalachian Trail when I thru-hiked it several years ago.  Undoubtedly, I would say southern Virginia, particularly the Grayson Highlands.  It is gorgeous ...  

  
The boys and I had a great day.  The sun was out, the temperature was in the low 70s, people were out biking the Virginia Creeper Trail.  Mint, I tell 'ya.  I tooled up and down the J. E. B. Stuart Highway (can you tell you're in the South?!) tracking their progress as best as I could and got some easy hiking in on some of the more benign portions of the Appalachian Trail.  The boys gave me the honor of running the last mile into Damascus with them.  After arriving into town, we got situated at a hostel whereupon the kind proprietor offered to do the boys' laundry and let them wear some old hospital scrubs in the interim.  So we wandered down to a semi-famous outdoor gear shop to do some window shopping before dinner.  It was a great way to round out the day.  Mike, clad in a set of hospital scrubs, watching Dave and I having an air jam session to Iron Maiden blaring in Mount Rogers Outfitters.

About 480 miles to go, boys.  Steady on!    

An Ultra And The First Mile Back ...

With school starting, I've been really busy and a little behind on catching up. Recently, there were two interesting events that occurred.

Without getting into too much detail, last Saturday I found myself waking up at a crisp 4 am at a motel in Punxsutawney, PA getting ready to run crew for what turned out to be several runners in the Baker Trail UltraChallenge, a three-part series of 50-mile ultramarathons held on the Baker Trail in central Pennsylvania (each year one of the 3 parts is run). It was an exciting, albeit long day.

When you run crew, you sit at the aid stations, or some point on the trail, and scan the horizon patiently, waiting ... and waiting ... and then there's a flurry of activity when the runner comes in. "Did you want something to eat?" "Need fresh socks?" "Want some Endurolytes?" "How's your body feeling?" Then, with map in hand, you hop in your car and it's a quick dash to a point 4-5 miles down the trail -- and you repeat the process over and over again, as long as is necessary until your runner gets to the finish line. Biding your time, reading a bit, strumming the guitar, chatting with the aid station volunteers about where they're from and how they ended up doing the same thing you're doing, sipping that now ice-cold coffee you picked up at Sheetz hours ago. And you worry too because you so desperately want to see all your friends succeed, to finish, really.

One of the things I like the most about going to running races is that you meet so many kind, motivated people. That turned out to be the case here as well and without further ado here are some notables. I bumped into Eric Ripper, on and off, for the first several aid stations but he's an ultra veteran so he hardly needed anything but words of encouragement from me. He finished the race in fine shape. Steve Wendell, a really nice guy, finished the race and it turns out this gave him the trifecta; that is, he has successfully completed all three ultras in the challenge. As with Eric, Steve looked good the entire race, commenting only that he was concentrating on taking care of his body when I saw him at the aid stations. I had the privilege of cheering for Tom Parenti and his partner. Then there was the case of Lou Rocco. Lou is a personal trainer, has completed an Ironman, and was looking for a new conquest, so he signed up to do this ultra. In the early part of the race, he was battling a knee problem (a topic all too familiar to me!). Nevertheless, he "manned up" and fought his way to the finish line -- impressive! He had really good crew support with his wife, his friend Stephanie, and his other friend, the affable Aimee Jim, who I had the pleasure of chatting with at many aid stations.

However, I saved the best for last. I predominantly ran crew for my friend Dannielle Ripper, Eric's wife. I could write a tome here about this but I'm not going to because Dannielle has done me the favor of recounting her experience in a local running club's newsletter. Running an ultramarathon can sometimes take you on this emotional roller coaster, particularly if you are a spirited, passionate individual. I know I have yo-yoed between joy and pain, unbridled ecstasy and crushing defeat, laughter and tears. There have been times where I have really felt not much at all. There have been times where "The Dragon" has come into my mind somewhere around mile 42 to wreak havoc on my psyche and to magnify every insecurity I have about myself and my running, trying as hard as it can to get me to stop. And all I can do, hunkered down in the deep, dark cave of my desperate mind, is stare upwards at The Dragon with my pocket knife willing myself to battle. I have felt anger at myself, clapping spectators, old college professors, and ex-girlfriends. There are also times where a switch is thrown and I feel utterly invincible and that absolutely nothing can stop me ... nothing. I could be entirely wrong, but if I had to fathom a guess, and given our similar dispositions, I'd say Dannielle fought The Dragon this race, and I am very proud to say Dannielle finished and "won" ...

Last Sunday, on a hot, beautiful evening in Pittsburgh down at Washington's Landing, at about 6 pm, for the first time since the Capon 50K (May 8), I broke out into a full run and ran my first mile in about 3.5 months, 2.5 months since the ACL reconstruction. Over the past few weeks, there have been moments where I wondered what it would be like, and what I would feel. Would there be tears of joy? Would I crumple to the ground in pain? Well, I'm here to say there was no drama. There were no trumpets playing. There was no pain nor swelling in the knee. Conrad Quesen, a hell of a guy who is training for the Tussey Mountainback Ultramarathon, trotted alongside me, engaging me in pleasant, diversionary conversation. Behind us were Conrad's wife, Sarah, and their 11-year-old son, Anthony. Sarah ... the friend who did my grocery shopping and checked my mail at the post office when I could barely make it up my apartment stairs ... the friend who texted me every night to make sure I was alright ... the friend who ate dinner with me to keep me company ... the friend who led while others disappeared. All was right with the world on my one-mile run ... my goosebumps and a smile from ear to ear ... the sun going down past the river ... the feel and the crunch of gravel underneath my feet ... Conrad and me, Sarah and me, Anthony and me.