Alobar and Kudra
I guess I owe everyone out there an apology for the lack of updates (like anyone gives a shit anyway).
It's funny how things tend to reverberate in and out of your life. Sometimes we can give such little thought and consideration to our actions that the tiniest most insignificant little details of our lives can tend to be the behemoth of problems that threaten to swallow us whole. Taking the once unnoticeable for granted seems to be the epitome of my current situation. When something affects our lives so drastically as to force us to call everything into question, it puts a strange myopic perspective on our view of the present.
An injury for example.
The first thing I ask is 'How long?'. The next step is asking 'why me?' , unfortunately the answer to this last question can sometimes lead us down dark paths that only misguided children and wayward philosophers tend to wander.
Our circumstance can be explained away, but how it leaves us feeling is something entirely different.
As a climber, I've suffered from many little injuries. Pulley ruptures, little shoulder tweaks, an occasional knee pulley inflammation, etc. Nothing that has really kept me from enjoying the outside. My latest injury, embarrassingly enough, was the result of interacting in a sport that I just recently picked up again after years of hiding it in the closet of my apartment. It's funny how indestructible I have led myself to believe I am. I never gave a second thought to being able to pick up a basketball at will and sprint up and down a well lit court with 9 other sweaty guys/gals. It's just not an environment that I find intimidating, scary, or self destructive. But then again, those small details of our lives can rear their ugly little heads when we have convinced ourselves they are no longer a threat and end up taking damagingly large bites out of the precious time we have to spend with our friends and the activities we would rather be doing.
This was the case when I found myself leaving the ground in one last fate-filled launch towards the hoop, only to be pulled down to earth by the gravitational pull that weighted me like every other jump. I landed fine, with the exception of feeling as if I had been struck in the back of the leg by a billy club. I immediately knew something was very wrong. Something I had never felt before, and hopefully will never feel again.
A mis-diagnosis in the ER led me to a second opinion by an orthopaedic specialist three weeks later. Who was able to dampen my spirits in no less than the time it has taken to boil an egg.
It's funny how the word 'surgery' can roll off the tongue of someone in the medical profession with as little ease as it took to snap my Achilles tendon in two. I sat on the crumpled tissue guarding the smooth vinyl covering of the brown examination room seat cradling my head in my hands. 'How long?', 'Why me?'.
I was so optimistic after the last weekends activities. Hiking, snowboarding, and literally leap frogging down the busy sidewalks of Bellingham.
But the facts are undeniable. The large gap in my Achilles was a glaring reminder that something would have to be done sooner or later. I was hoping for a short recovery time that would only take me away from my adventures for 3 or 4 weeks. Replace weeks with months and you have a more accurate picture of why I feel as if I may find no comfort in anything/anyone. At least in the present state I'm in.
I wouldn't feel this way if I wasn't so plugged into a community that thrives on being active in an outdoor setting. Maybe if I was more into television than telemark, or rock collecting than rock climbing it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
Maybe if I wasn't so scared of missing out on experiences with the people that weave the fabric of my life like a silk rug, I wouldn't feel like the next three months would be such a waste.
The big picture is not so bad. I'll heal. I'll climb again, run, carve, skip, hop, and stand on my toes again.
Is it foolish to worry about missing out on things you have no control over missing?
Do you need to just let yourself feel 'left out' sometimes?
I don't know. But I'll tell you how it goes.
Below: more pictures from my phone.
Larabee State Park, Mount Baker, and Mt. Baker National Forest.
It's funny how things tend to reverberate in and out of your life. Sometimes we can give such little thought and consideration to our actions that the tiniest most insignificant little details of our lives can tend to be the behemoth of problems that threaten to swallow us whole. Taking the once unnoticeable for granted seems to be the epitome of my current situation. When something affects our lives so drastically as to force us to call everything into question, it puts a strange myopic perspective on our view of the present.
An injury for example.
The first thing I ask is 'How long?'. The next step is asking 'why me?' , unfortunately the answer to this last question can sometimes lead us down dark paths that only misguided children and wayward philosophers tend to wander.
Our circumstance can be explained away, but how it leaves us feeling is something entirely different.
As a climber, I've suffered from many little injuries. Pulley ruptures, little shoulder tweaks, an occasional knee pulley inflammation, etc. Nothing that has really kept me from enjoying the outside. My latest injury, embarrassingly enough, was the result of interacting in a sport that I just recently picked up again after years of hiding it in the closet of my apartment. It's funny how indestructible I have led myself to believe I am. I never gave a second thought to being able to pick up a basketball at will and sprint up and down a well lit court with 9 other sweaty guys/gals. It's just not an environment that I find intimidating, scary, or self destructive. But then again, those small details of our lives can rear their ugly little heads when we have convinced ourselves they are no longer a threat and end up taking damagingly large bites out of the precious time we have to spend with our friends and the activities we would rather be doing.
This was the case when I found myself leaving the ground in one last fate-filled launch towards the hoop, only to be pulled down to earth by the gravitational pull that weighted me like every other jump. I landed fine, with the exception of feeling as if I had been struck in the back of the leg by a billy club. I immediately knew something was very wrong. Something I had never felt before, and hopefully will never feel again.
A mis-diagnosis in the ER led me to a second opinion by an orthopaedic specialist three weeks later. Who was able to dampen my spirits in no less than the time it has taken to boil an egg.
It's funny how the word 'surgery' can roll off the tongue of someone in the medical profession with as little ease as it took to snap my Achilles tendon in two. I sat on the crumpled tissue guarding the smooth vinyl covering of the brown examination room seat cradling my head in my hands. 'How long?', 'Why me?'.
I was so optimistic after the last weekends activities. Hiking, snowboarding, and literally leap frogging down the busy sidewalks of Bellingham.
But the facts are undeniable. The large gap in my Achilles was a glaring reminder that something would have to be done sooner or later. I was hoping for a short recovery time that would only take me away from my adventures for 3 or 4 weeks. Replace weeks with months and you have a more accurate picture of why I feel as if I may find no comfort in anything/anyone. At least in the present state I'm in.
I wouldn't feel this way if I wasn't so plugged into a community that thrives on being active in an outdoor setting. Maybe if I was more into television than telemark, or rock collecting than rock climbing it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
Maybe if I wasn't so scared of missing out on experiences with the people that weave the fabric of my life like a silk rug, I wouldn't feel like the next three months would be such a waste.
The big picture is not so bad. I'll heal. I'll climb again, run, carve, skip, hop, and stand on my toes again.
Is it foolish to worry about missing out on things you have no control over missing?
Do you need to just let yourself feel 'left out' sometimes?
I don't know. But I'll tell you how it goes.
Below: more pictures from my phone.
Larabee State Park, Mount Baker, and Mt. Baker National Forest.
I guess
Comments
Coincedence???
Trying to stay optimistic. I go in for an MRI this Monday. Surgery is definitely in the cards, I just hope it doesn't mean an extremely lengthy recovery. It would be music to my ears to hear the doc say 8-12 weeks. But a large part of that is up to me as well.
Can't wait for the summer projecting season!