Frustratingly Normal

First things first. 141. That’s the number I’m slapping down. It’s got a mystic feel, like a 300 bowling game, or .400 batting average. No, it’s not my IQ (c’mon, don’t insult my genius with that piddling score). Rather, 141’s my new ROM. Breaking 140 is like shattering the flexion glass ceiling. It’s still 4 degrees shy of my good leg, but it falls comfortably within what’s considered full range of motion. Hopefully I’ll recapture those last 4 degrees, but I don’t feel like I’m missing anything if I don’t.

I experimented with a handful of new cardio exercises this week. Well, not new in the sense that I’ve never done them before; I just haven’t done them since my surgery. Some worked; some didn’t.

First, I fell in love all over again with my old friend the elliptical machine. Even before the surgery, I stopped running and rarely used the stair climber. Too much stress on my knees. The elliptical (some call it, Precor) became my primary source of cardio. Low impact, easy to use, and capable of various speed/intensity, the elliptical was a great way to sweat off 500 calories. This week, I set the machine at level 1 for both the height of the glide tracks and the resistance. Man, I felt like an 85-year Eskimo taking a leisurely stroll across the Tundra after chowing down on some penguin meat. The motion felt . . . strange. My knee didn’t hurt. I wasn’t tired. And my form was generally normal. But something didn’t feel quite right. The best way to describe it, I guess, was the sensation amputees report they feel from their missing limbs. Now, I’ve got all my appendages, so I really don’t know how that feels. This just seems to be the right description. Or at least the best I’m able to do. Anyway, I anticipate slowly increasing the level of difficulty on the elliptical, and finally being able to sweat off some of the extra poundage.

The treadmill proved far more difficult. For the past 2-3 weeks, I’ve steadily increased my pace and incline setting. Most recently, I cruised along at a 3.5mph clip at the 4-incline setting. After 20 minutes, I was glistening like a Southern Belle sunbathing on a glorious summer day. Glorious, that it, because she’s topless. Unless she’s really fat. In that case, put the Mumu back on, honey. Or scrape together a few yards of fabric to make one. Seriously. (Sorry, a sudden mean streak crept upon me. The kids were beating the crap out of each other. I’ll return to my jovial self shortly).

Ok, back to the treadmill without the boobie analogy. I tried lateral walking. Basically, that’s shuffling sideways, something middle-schoolers do at basketball practice. I slowed the treadmill down to 1.5mph, its slowest setting and took a couple of normal walking steps to acclimate myself before trying out the new motion. I didn’t think it was possible to move that slow. Sadly, even 1.5mph was too fast for my lateral walking. I simply couldn’t comfortably shuffle at that blistering pace. It felt like somebody was yanking out the rug beneath me.

The same thing happened when I tried to walk backwards, only this time I also resembled Elliot, you know, the really dorky 2nd grader with the coke-bottle glasses who always gets picked last at kickball? True, I simply couldn’t handle this speed at this point in my recovery, but I was also painfully uncoordinated, tripping over my feet and otherwise stumbling around, trying my best not to fly off the back of the treadmill. For somebody who used to dig 60 mph spikes, not being able to walk sideways or backwards was depressing. Taking the “glass is half-full” attitude, I’ve got a new athletic challenge. It’s just embarrassing that the “challenge” is something my 3-year old can do.

The past few weeks have been interesting. Several times I actually feel normal, forgetting the 2 screws and 13-inch scar decorating my knee. No pain. No limp. No uncomfortableness. I even handle stairs with minimal difficulty. But then I instinctively try to do something a bit beyond my limit – for example, trying to move 2 steps to catch an errant throw at my 7-year old’s baseball practice – and instantly my deficiencies snap me back to reality. I realize how limited I still am. Like an athlete past his prime. His mind knows what to do, but the body won’t cooperate. Actually, I’m way past my prime, so my body wouldn’t cooperate even if it wanted to. Nonetheless, I feel relatively decent about my long-term prognosis. Sure, I get beaten down plenty about the lost opportunities over the past 5 months and more than occasionally worry that I’ll be forced to embrace a lesser quality of life. But overall I remain hopeful I’ll regain full use of my knee. If so, expect a new Guinness record for backwards walking in 2010.