Loss comes in all sizes, just ask my ultra marathon distance running sister-in-law, or my guy Marc Harb, from Lebanon, who took a top 75 at last year’s BC Bike Race–both of whom are dealing with injuries right now. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an overuse injury like Sarah’s (my sister-in-law) or a broken collar bone like Marc’s, anytime you’re injured or dealing with something chronic that keeps you out of the saddle and off the trails, you’re going to be navigating the often crushing waves of loss that accompany these circumstances. When I had to pull the plug on our annual Snake River trip and then last week’s Big Sky Biggie after making the decision to defer my Breck Epic (two weeks earlier) registration to next year, I felt the loss in a big way as I planned on coming into this year’s Biggie with fresh legs, like a hunter, gunning for a fast ride and strong result, and now I’m off the bike completely and riding the waves of loss.
I’ve often said, I’m the guru of go and when I can’t go, I get low. Meaning, I have a loud depressed part when I can’t train, when I’m out of the pool, weight room or saddle of my bike—the loss of saddle time always being the hardest. One of the most important people in my life over the course of the last decade has been Dr. John Wimberly—my counselor. He made Grizzlies on My Mind, Be Audacious and Deep Roots. I give him a shout out in my TEDx talk and I’m often saying WWJD. One of my favorite Wimberly(isms) is this: “There are only three solutions to any problem: change it, leave it, or accept it.”
Injuries and illness suck for all of us. But for athletes and those accustom to training long hours each week, there’s a heaviness that comes with navigating injuries and illness that can be hard to accept. Most people who know me and my tribe, know that we’re fighters. Being a fighter has served me/us well. And I’ve fought through a lot of shit, a lot of injuries and illness. For me, overuse injuries (of which I fought for decades in the form of tendinopathies) have always been the worst, because they never had a timeline as far as return to play. And for years I fought my way through them.
In recent years however (and this time around in particular), I’ve been trying to not only accept my circumstances for what they are, but to embrace my reality for what it is. As the great Dr. Wimberly recently shared, “The only way to live our life and to embrace life fully is to embrace those dark places.”
You can hate winter, but if you live in Montana, winter still comes. We can hate being injured or sick, but it doesn’t change our reality.
So, instead of fighting the fact that my doctor and trusted PT are telling me to treat this post-COVID (I’m three weeks out) and Costochondritis like an injury, encouraging me not to “train” for 2-3 months, in hopes of avoiding long-term COVID (while giving a thoracic spine injury from earlier in the month time to heal), I’m trying to thoughtfully navigating this current challenge by embracing the fact that there’s going to be some dark hours, days, perhaps even weeks ahead, and that’s ok.
Why is it that our society puts such a premium on being happy and not being depressed? First off, parts work (IFS) has taught me that “I’m” not depressed, but that I have a loud depressed part during times where I’m not able to train. You see, I’ve known since my teens that exercise isn’t just a passion, but my anti-depressant. So, when you take someone like me, or you, or anyone else who logs long hours (in my case 8-12 hours a week) training or exercising off the bike or out of the water, we’re not just being deprived of something we love, something we’re passion about, something that we identify with, something that occupies a lot of our time and headspace, something that makes us better at managing stress and relationships, but you’re doing something far greater. If we’re yanked out of our daily training sessions by an injury or illness, cold turkey, it’s akin to pulling someone off their SSRI (anti-depressant), without weaning.
So, not only are we experiencing the temporary (hopefully) loss of something we love, something that serves as a refuge—and for some, as our Ritalin, but we’re losing the strongest chemicals that our body produces to help us navigate this crazy life we live.
Instead of fighting my current circumstances (the natural instinct of a born fighter), I’m trying to embrace my reality by accepting that waves of depressed, disappointed, overwhelmed parts, are a natural part of this process, of giving my body the time it needs to heal and recover. Is it easy? Hell no, it’s hard as fuck. But it’s a lot better than fighting something that’s inevitable, that’s as natural as winter in Montana.
There’s something empowering about embracing our reality, even when our reality is far from the one we’d hope for. I’m ready for the dark hours and days ahead, knowing that I’ll keep doing the heavy lifting (mentally) and will turn the focus as often as possible to the little victories and positive moments throughout the day, like sipping my iced passion/green tea, hooking my daughter and wife up with Waffle Wednesday and our Sunday morning, GF pancake/traditional Hawaiian music ritual, being there for my daughter to coach her up during her first week of high school, eating anything made from scratch by my wife, watching Serena beat the 2 seed at the US Open, relishing our Pepper Plant Sauce on our eggs or spying a picture of a Pileated woodpecker that my wife captured on a hike.
My mission remains the same as it does when dealing with any challenging cards: navigate life and it’s challenges with as much grace and grit and possible. Some days I win, some days I grow and learn. It sure as hell ain’t all roses and applesauce, but I’m committed to treading water and riding those waves of loss for however long it takes to be recovered and ready to ride those glassy and kicking waves once they start firing again. And I’ll keep being grateful for and reliving my autumn of 2021 on the mountain bike as the BC Bike Race and the White Rim in a Day experiences were ALLTIME.
Head up, eyes forward, feet moving.
Dig deep, stay true and lean in.
WNbL, mwl