Walk Like a Man (FAI Hip Surgery Part 5)

Mark this down: May 27, 2014: surgeon gives (wait for it) the "green light"!!

no, this is not me - this kid is faster & stronger 

this is also not me - but, I now can, "Walk Tall"

So - this week, I saw my surgeon for the requisite 7 week follow up to find out when I can start "weight bearing" on my right leg; it has not escaped the more "vocal" [read "old man cantankerous"] that I may in fact reference my rather intense dislike of the death sticks a bit much.
Tough. I hate them.
Anyway...my (most excellent) surgeon Dr Iyeni indicated all is going swimmingly, and then directed me to "walk" - I actually asked him "what?" as he and I had talked about possibly weigh bearing after 6-8 weeks, but I wasn't ready for full on, no-crutches-to-lean-on, walking with no "transition" - he looked at me like I was an idiot [sadly a look I am all too familiar with from most people] and so he repeated it, this time more emphatically: "WALK".
You would think it would be easy to just "walk", especially when you have been thinking of this moment for 7 weeks. 7. LONG. WEEKS. (*Dad - that was for you - hahaha).
In fact, I was kinda nervous to put put weight on my right leg so I just stood there in the middle of the exam room [see, above: "idiot"] - and then tried to walk.
It wan't pretty - but I took 1, then 2, baby steps before I had to grab the exam table as I was about to keel over.

(**this is how I felt walking, stumbling, then walking again. Then nearly falling. Then getting up and walking. 'cause that is how we roll.)

Anyway - Dr I was pleased. Like a new father watching his first born walk for the first time, he smiled - no, he positively beamed - beautifically...ok, fine, that is wayyy too overly dramatic, but whatever - it was cool.

yes, I am alive and walking

Dr I said keep at and I should be able to walk sans death sticks in 1-2 weeks. Loose 1 in a week, then the other in 2, and maybe even skip the "cane phase". Booyaa.
But - he scolded that I can't even think of running - and even then only 1 min max to start -  until July at the earliest; no flip turns in the pool until mid July; and  no hills on the bike until July either.

Whatever - I can walk...like a man, or as Kendi says, like a BOSS MAN.

See ya on the roads - in July
Mellow Johnny

ps - go 'Hawks!!

Race Report: Run for the Spring Wardrobe (FAI Hip Surgery Part 4)

So, week 6 on the death sticks - and it is Spring (finally).
One thing I have noticed since before my surgery in mid April, sadly, has been a massive loss of any sense of time: viz [which is Latin for "namely" - I have to justify my law degree on occasion], I went into the hospital on blustery rainy, winter day and suddenly it is late May - and sunny/warm/green and 28 degrees C.
And so I never got to wear my "Spring wardrobe" [ya, that sounds kinda fey even to me]; I noticed last weekend that all my running gear is laid out for winter/spring training & racing: gloves, hats, buffs, tights, jackets, etc. And yet, if I was suddenly allowed to start running tomorrow, I could easily head out in shorts/singlet/and yes, my trusty visor - alas, I am not yet running, so the idea is somewhat academic.
But, as usual, I digress.

I have been hard at rehab/recovery since the (external) stitches came out last month - swimming 3-4 days a week, water running, rehab exercises in the deep end of the pool, physio, chillaxing...
But the most fun [kidding] has been my twice daily spins on my(road) bike - on my indoor Computrainer.

you should always ride with a helmet

Let me begin by noting I have never had such a sore butt in my life, as unlike riding outside, on the trainer, you don't move much, especially when ordered by your surgeon too not "screw" up all his incredibly delicate surgical mastery; I was told, emphatically, "not to walk / run /  put your right leg on the ground at all or on your bike pedals with any pressure (and while I have valiantly attempted to follow that edict, I have, on occasion, slipped into near-full-on pedalling) or you will tear out your anchors.Tear. Out. Your. Anchors."

one of six new anchors screwed into my hip

And so when riding, all your weight is on your butt as it sits on one spot on a saddle that is 5/8" at its widest, for the entire ride - until you cry, like an aging boxer, "no mas" (shout out to Nurse Ratched in Barthelona!). Upon reflection, if I had been blessed with a more bountiful booty [I Like big Butts - not mine though...] instead of the ratty bony ass I have, maybe this wouldn't be such an ordeal.

not Johnny's butt

So for the most part, my daily indoor trainer rides have been, pun intended, pedestrian: my wattage has crescendoed on most days at a massive 100 watts (to put this in perspective: Team Sky's Ian Boswell: power readings from Tour of California (last week) where Boswell cracked out 388 watts on the last recorded stage. Ya, I realize I am, and remain, a punter.

this is how I feel riding on my trainer

Given that while I had entered but was forced to miss all the Spring road racing, like: the famous Sporting life 10km (with a major shout out to my friend and race director Cory F who put together a fantastic race this year!!); Goodlife Marathon, where I was to head out on the 5km; and John Salt's awesome Multisport Canada triathlon series, with the season opener in Woodstock this past weekend - I was seriously bummed about not only not being able to race, but missing out on all the comradarie of seeing all the old boys/gals I race with every Spring/Summer.

However....and yes, there is a point to this blog today - I did want, in the recent tradition of all modern racers, to update you with a blog piece about the epic event I was able to take part in last weekend, here in Toronto: the 1st Annual Run for the Spring Wardrobe.
This heretofore previously unheralded event is actually a Spring Classic, one which many taken part in - without even possibly realizing it.
So here is a recap of the 2 day, multi-stage event:
DAY 1: The Hipster 3 Miler
The day began with me laying out all my gear: Crutches? Check. Dark sunglasses to avoid the sun (and eye contact with any bearded urban hipsters)? Check. Water bottle rigged on crutches for continuos hydration - and safety spraying of said bearded urban hipsters when they get within my drafting zone of 7 meters? Check. Massively expensive hip brace? Check. Spare Oxy? Nope - what if I do well and there is drug testing after...? How do you spell "Lance".
At 1pm my trusty driver took me to the race start at Bathurst and Queen, where we found a great spot to set up - race conditions, however, were dicey with the possibility of rain, but, what are we athletes if not tough and ready for anything? And before I knew it, Day 1 was on! We walked/crutched thru probably every single boutique/shoe store/designer store/purse store/shoe store/ on Queen West...EVERY. SINGLE.  ONE.  While this was not an Ironman distance event, it certainly felt like it could be a long, tough day.

I am a dead man

Moving on crutches thru the (Saturday) crowds was remarkably similar to weaving thru the wave starts in an Ironman swim / bike - it required speed, dexterity, poise, patience and most of all, cunning strength. But I had brought my "A" game for Day 1, and aside from a few hiccups - stumbling on curbs, wicked sore hands from 3 hrs on the death sticks, and, being polite in the face of repeated "oh my God  - what did you do???" I finished the day strong but a little weary - and Nurse Ratched was likewise thrilled with her results.
DAY 2: The Suburban Mall Indoor Meet
Like Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day", Day 2 was eerily similar to Day 1 - with the exception that today's event was an indoor meet, taking part in the august halls of that athletic colossus, "Yorkdale".
Needless to say the day unfolded remarkably like Day 1 [reference: Groundhog Day"]. To be honest, I have little memory of what unfolded on Day 2, as I was fading hard after 3 hours -  but I dug deep and managed to pull off, yet again, a really strong finish. Thankfully I kept an eye on nutrition and hydration and with a brief stop to take in a gel, and some 'tater tots I had in my pocket, we were good to go.

race ready nutrition

So, there it is: the Spring Classic "Run for the wardrobe" is sure to be an annual event,  and yet surprisingly similar in scope and effort to those other seasonal Classics: the Summer, then Fall, then Winter "RFTSW".
All Classics - all the time. Every year.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
:)

Can you tell I really, really need to get off these crutches?
See ya out there shopping
Mellow Johhny

FAI Hip Surgery - F.U. Crutches

Pardon my little tirade this time around: I just want to put it out there - I truly dislike* using crutches.

*translation: I FREAKING HATE CRUTCHES.

I am not going to sugarcoat it: Week 2 and 3 post surgery, on crutches, has so far sucked.

No other way to describe it.

Your arms constantly hurt, you can't carry anything like a plate or bowl [wtf? no ice cream?! I thought the whole point of surgery recovery was to eat whatever the hell I wanted!]; don't even get me started on 4am trips to the bathroom to pee (it is like organizing a trip to Everest, all the pre planning you have to).

Stairs? F.U. stairs. Going up 2 flights of stairs on crutches is sysiphysian at best, and "cruel & unusual punishment" at worst. You make it half way and realize, "damn it, I still have 1 more flight". If this doesn't set me up for some wicked triceps, well, I don't know what will [and for those that have seen my "pre-surgery" bi/triceps, I need ALL the help I can get].

And going downstairs? Simply put - you have four options (well, there are in fact "5", if you count falling, but let's not go there):

1. use the crutches - doable, but on carpet, fraught with peril, not too mention awkward.

2. hop on good leg [in this case, my Left] - again, awkward, and puts a massive load on the L hip, which is also not good - and it is just generally stupid looking hopping down the stairs

3. finally, dropping with an extreme lack of elegance and grace onto your ass and "bumming" down the stairs.

4. there is an option "4" - wherein Nurse Ratchet stands behind you, kindly offering to "help" you down the stairs. Note to self: never, ever, ever allow this to happen (see "possibility 5" above).

Nurse Ratched

Then of course there is that phrase every man fears from his wife (worse than "do you want to go shoe shopping in Yorkville with me?")(or, "which shoes/scarf/necklace/earrings/ etc...go with this suit?"): "let's go for a walk". So after taking at least 15 minutes to get ready (me, not Nurse R), out you venture for 2 blocks, maybe 3, at which point I'm so friggin' tired - which, given my quasi athletic background, is not only humiliating but downright emabarrasing - especially because when you arrive at said destination of the walk, not only do you have to turn around and head back 2-3 blocks, but, you have more stairs. (And speaking of "stairs"...let's talk about the "stares" you get from people in the neighbourhood - the ones that say "Oh my, is that our neighbour from up (or down) the street? Well, it's his own fault; for goodness sake, all that man does is swim and ride his bike and run - what did he expect at his age. And his poor wife - she must have to everything for him". News flash -  I want to punch those people in the face, but of course I can't, because I need both hands to hold my  damned crutches. But I know who they are and I will remember, oh yes, I shall - and revenge is a dish best served off crutches).

When I do take a break (pun intended) from the death sticks, I end up standing entirely on my Left leg - and while I have mastered the zen-like mastery of balance, it has become tiresome to say the least (laugh now, my friend: you try, for example, shaving and then showering and then towelling off - all one one leg. My left ass cheek is so ripped I look like a Brazilian stripper with a half butt implant). And if one more person calls me "Peg" - see above for retribution.

what I think I look like

what I actually look like

ok, fine: this is what I actually look like

My last comment - for now: I had my first post op meeting with my surgeon this week. Good news: the new X-rays looked clean, so going forward looks promising. Bad news? 6 more weeks (6 -SIX - MORE. FREAKING. WEEKS!!!) on the crutches - no weight bearing on my leg at all, which means, in no particular order: no touching my foot down, no walking, no driving, no riding any bikes outside, no kicking ass of the neighbours who openly mock my poorly executed "crutch walk" etc. And of course that ultimately means no (quality) racing this summer. Hell, even Nurse Ratched will be faster. Merde.

Oh well, could be worse. Wait, no, it couldn't.

I can't wait for week 4.

see ya on the roads. Actually, I won't - but, whatever.

Mellow Johnny