Tuesday, November 6, 2012

And Now back to your regularly Scheduled Program - not really

And so, it goes.
Coming back from an injury is sometimes easy. What you say? How can this be?
The easy part is getting back on the bike. The part I or one would usually miss the most.
The hard part is the adjustment of all your pieces and parts that have been out of wack or injured and getting everything else to catch back up. Stress from life, lack of work, work, home, all factors into your ability to be healthy. Healthy is not just a physical condition - it's mental. As I tell my coached athletes, you can be physically, fit - but if your mental game is off you are not going to perform at 100%.
As it stands not having your body and brain in complete alignment (insert Oprah comment here) your body will rebel.
Discs in your back are not something to mess around with and the nerves in your leg can be your friend or your enemy. The nerve in my left leg - my enemy in the last 6/8 weeks along with whatever was pushing on it inside my spindly old tether-ball pole of a spine. Some meds, wacky med induced behavior and physical therapy later, I got back on the double pedal horse, a slow ramp up and slowly testing the nerve and spinal waters so to speak. Testing, recovery, stretch, therapy, repeat and repeat.

zick, zock (that is a fast tick, tock) goes time and some amazingly painful moments.

I finally get the good feelings I needed and head out to local cyclocross practice. After a few good test laps, trying to stay safe and upright I start to let it rip. My good buddy Woody and I were letting it rip. I was feeling good, heart rate sky high, legs burning, tongue hanging on stem. Woody rolls around me on a downhill off camber and I shift to ready myself for the upcoming hill. Both of Woody's tires slide out and in an instant like a batman "POW" cartoon moment, I focus in on Woody's rib cage and visualize my front chainring cutting into his side. I am already too forward on the bike at this point, and grab brake, lots of it. I go right over the bars and avoid sticking out the dreaded stiff arm to avoid the broken collarbone - yes I thought about all this in an instant. Bam I am on the ground. Heart Rate at 175 and the pain and panic sets in as I lay there with about 20 others breathing heavy staring me in the face, as concerned friends would. I catch my breath, feel my shoulder and realize that it's not broken, but really really bruised, like bone bruised. Our resident osu female Jr. doctor, gives me a lookover and tells me I need to go to the doctor or should go....I think to myself nope I have been to the doctor enough thank you. I passed on several offers from good friends to get me home safe, but I ride home and suffer through the pain to make sure I can still at least use my left arm and drag my tail home.

After weeks and weeks of injury and disappointment, here lies one very sad cyclocrosser.

I find some morale and decide to focus on trying to race the CapCityCross - Uncle Steve's race as a primer for the UCI3 Cincy weekend. If I can get through the bumpy, crappy front, side and back yard of Uncle Steve's I can handle maybe two days of racing at UCI3.

I make it through Uncle Steve's - I wasn't last. I sucked. Although, not suck like I did on purpose in 2011 to ready my body for UCI3. This was suck on a different level, suffering on another level, suffering for my lack of high end fitness and quick jump legs to propel me through the slow, soggy, wet, bumpy course yard. Don't get me wrong, I love me some suffering, but this is all at a different level. Uncle Steve's under my belt, I wait, a day or two to see how the body responds. Test and Measure. I am sore, but it's not too bad. Ok, UCI3 is a go. Lets Do this thing.

Saturday I was racing at 2:30 p.m. - this is good, I can sleep in and get there late enough to check out the lines and what not. Relax. I go get on the course, and realize I don't have the gear (or legs), or right tires, to get up that camel hump thing. I head back to the car to turn my clincher back tire around, for more grip and put my 11/27 cassette on my rear wheel. 8 minutes done, I am back to course, watching the CAT 4's and testing out the gearing and rear tire. It seems great. Ok, now onto a great warm up. I knew I would be sitting at the startline for 5/7 minutes, so a good hard warmup right up to 2:15. Without one OVCX (Series) race for 2012, I manage a great 4th row start line spot. WHooahh. I am in great position for a top 20 at least, with these weak floppy legs and lack of time spent in heart rate zone 5. We are off, I battle past most of the guys in my row, into row 3 and into the back of row 2 by the first wide sweeping turn by taking the outside line and crossing back to inside to set up for the next turn - plan is working. Next up full gas - up towards the clubhouse. Done. The Rain begins. Guys are falling down, and taking the inside line, thinking it's quicker and being the cattle they are sometimes. The grass outside is dry and faster, I am there pushing hard. One lap in I suffer up the camel hump hill and back up the side of that fucking thing twice (thanks Corey :)).  I am ready for lap two, run up, two 2x2 - flat spot, four more 2x2 pushed into the ground. I am running hard, guys are starting to pass, as I gasp for zone 5a, 5b and 5c. Back around and down back up and into the double short wooden regular barriers. I feel a twinge in my left leg, what is that, oh well, onto trying to hold my ground and not getting passed anymore. Here comes more guys falling and more guys being cattle and not thinking for themselves in picking lines. I ride around a few and get passed by a few, feeling good, starting to relax a bit and get in my groove. I hit the camel hump and some guy in front of my spins out his rear wheel and falls over in my line. I dismount take a step and swear I heard a pop in my left leg/calf. I take another step and almost have no control over my foot, I am on the inside line on the barrier, writhing in pain, as my friends and racing friends who all ask me how I am doing, if I am ok - (crazy - but nice, they ask). I put the front of my helmet on my saddle for a brief moment and contemplate what to do....is this something I should work through or a sign I should just stop, I find some motivation, hop on my cross bike, head back around, I try to think past the pain and focus on maybe finishing this thing. I pass a large group on a downhill, pass 5 more on the uphill through the finish line and gather my wits to just get it all over. I try not to think about the fact I am here "injured" again or the fact I won't be racing at day 3 of UCI3 at one of my favorite race courses of the year (Harbin Park) or the fact I most likely won't be healed in time to race at USGP - but just breath and suffer through the calf pain to get back up that damn camel hump. All those guys I passed, come flying by me, like they just started their race. I get up, down, almost back up the first hillside, but must slowly walk down and then try to walk back up again. I must throw the towel in and get out of this trainwreck. My race is over and the realization maybe my season is over sets in....next up fake smiles for my friends as I drag my tail again back home to crawl back into my virtual injury dog house.

By the clock, it's now officially, Tuesday as I type this book. Calf is still sore, so is my morale. If my uncle was still alive, he might consider taking me out to the far farm field and putting me out to pasture, fur good.

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