364 days

On January 1, 2014 I was laying in bed researching surgeons in Europe. I struggled to complete a few laps around the block and couldn't sleep through the night.

On December 31, 2014 I woke up after a good night sleep in my loft in the woods, Peanut the cat wrapped around my head, a bit achey and stiff, but much more mobile, and headed out for an 8 mile hike in my back yard. My back is a little wrecked right now, but my head is clear and my heart is full. And a few drinks tonight should help loosen things up.

I'm haven't met most of my (lofty) goals since surgery, but I'm closer now than I was 364 days ago. Hopefully by December 31, 2015 I'll be writing about my cycling adventures from the Sierras to Whistler.

Happy New Year, yall!

Merry Freakin' Christmas!

Xmas in LA

I'm back in the land of Milk and Honey for the holidays. Where a $100k Benz is as ubiquitous as a yellow cab in Manhattan. My cousin told me the police will fine you for driving a dirty car in Santa Monica. I've got at least $500 in bird poop collecting on the hood of my Fit.

As of Today, Christmas 2014, I'm 10 months post op. It's not been a linear recovery at all, but there have been some moments of clarity, and unfortunately a setback or two as well. A few weeks ago I pushed through a couple brutal days. My sacrum was on fire, but that may have been caused by the little slip and fall I experienced while walking down a slick wooden ramp. It was the first time since surgery that I've fallen down. And of course it had to be right smack onto my tailbone. I was more upset than anything else at the time, and there was no immediate pain from the impact. But a few days later things started to act up around my sacrum, burning as if I was sitting on a hot plate. Of course my mind started to venture into some dark places, but I maintained my cool and the pain subsided. At least now I know I can take a hit.

I get asked all the time, "How are you feeling?" I generally nod and politely say everything is good. I try not to talk about my back much since the pace at which my recovery is going can best be described as glacial. That, and I simply want to feel normal, and talking about my back ad nauseam erases any sense of normalcy I'm feverishly trying to cling to. Granted, a year ago I couldn't do half the things I'm doing today (more like 80%). But I'm nowhere near where I hoped I'd be. I'm not pedaling on the road as I'd planned, but I am riding the stationary bike, albeit with a fair level of discomfort. I can trot up flights of stairs and run uphill. And I use the word, 'run', loosely. Ever seen a flamingo run? It ain't pretty. I can maintain a HR of 165 bpm for a good stretch on the treadmill at a 15% incline. And my pool workouts are remaining strong and I can knock out a mile in the pool in just over half an hour.

My TRX workouts have been increasing with intensity, but I'm mindful to step back if anything isn't feeling 'right'. I can admit now that I pushed way too hard in the weeks after surgery, which I know held me back, so I'm trying to truly listen to my body speak to me and err on the side of caution.

I'm still shooting for spring to be back in the saddle, but that might even be optimistic considering the current pace of my recovery. But we'll blow up that bridge once we get to it. And since I like to set goals, what the hell...next July - DOWNIEVILLE! 

While out enjoying the SoCal sun this morning I saw this new mural on the back wall of the former Zephyr Surf and Skate shop (now Dogtown Coffee). It reminded me of a time as a little grommet, worshipping the likes of Jay Adams and Tony Alva. It's nice to see some of the local history remains.

Days of Dogtown

It also reminded me that you can take the grommet out of the Westside, but you can't take the Westside out of the grommet. No matter how hard you try.

Happy Holidays and a better New Year to all of me peoples!

- Ian

To everything, turn, turn, turn

There is a season, turn, turn, turn.

So, 9 months. The time it takes to give birth, finish a school year, or read War and Peace. That's how long, as of today, that I went under the knife. And day by day I get an ounce stronger and a measure happier.

As with everything in life, there's room for improvement. The health of my family could be far better. Certain close friends could be struggling less. The grand jury could have returned with a just verdict in Ferguson. But this is the real world, and life isn't always just.

I've also been dealing with a pinch of survivors guilt lately. If you've been reading my blog you will understand why. But it goes a little deeper than that. As my mother and uncle's health deteriorates (my uncle is struggling after a liver transplant), and I finally start to see improvements in my health, it's difficult for me to temper my optimism and happiness. But everything in life is a compromise, a balancing act, I guess. So I choose to appreciate what I have, while I have it.

When I first lived in Santa Cruz a generation ago I became friends with Matt during our first semester at Cabrillo College. We were in the same creative writing class where we pieced together overly saturated words hoping to charm women with deep poetry and brooding short stories. He was the far better writer, and we embarked on a years-long battle for the attention of teachers we both had crushes on with our tortured prose. We've always remained in touch over the years, and despite any distance or time apart we made sure to reconnect and catch each other up on life's trials and tribulations. He moved back to Santa Cruz last year, eventually convincing his soon-to-be wife (not a lot of arm twisting there) to join him, along with her three kids, so he could be closer to his family and his young son. That and who wouldn't want to live in Santa Cruz, I mean seriously.

There were three places on my list of destinations - Lake Tahoe, Bend, Oregon, and Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz eventually won out based in large part to the close friends I had who already lived here, not the least of which are Matt and Jen. Since moving back we've spent more time together in the past three months than we have in the past three years, and I've had the opportunity to play uncle to his beautiful son, Benjamin (love that kid!). I've also managed to sucker Matt and Jen into early morning workouts overlooking the ocean, which they are crushing by the way. I'm determined to have these two lean and ripped by the big day.

Welcome to the gun show!

Feel the burn!

Yeah, Santa Cruz doesn't suck.

One of my favorite things in life is seeing people reach a goal - get stronger, get smarter, basically just attempt new things. Succeeding at something, no matter how small that success might feel at that moment...it makes me feel good to see the sense of pride in the face of the person stepping outside their comfort zone.

No matter where I might be a year from now, 10 years from now, I'm grateful to have this time in my life to share with good friends, and I plan to appreciate every moment and look back with not a shred of regret.

Sometimes life kicks you in the stomach. You've got a choice - You can lay down and curl up in the dirt, or you can kick back and say, "That all you got?" 

To kicking back, my friends.

I can't get no...Satisfaction!

A few months ago, my incredibly talented and beautiful cousin Fanny and I were talking about what it takes to feel satisfied and generally happy in life. She and I both subscribe to the 'less is more' philosophy when it comes to the 'things' we're told from an early age that we need in order to feel satisfied.

Owning a big home, driving a slick car, or having a lot of money mean little to me. I don't care about collecting stuff or having more than I need. OK, I don't need 5 bicycles, but it's better than 5 cars! But Fanny said something during our conversation concerning what it means to be satisfied that I'll never forget. I'm paraphrasing, but she basically said if a scientist is always satisfied s/he might not strive to discover cures for diseases. If an engineer is always satisfied we might never have planes that can transport people around the world at 40,000 feet. If athletes are always satisfied we'd never see what's possible with the human body.

After absorbing this nugget I realized that satisfaction is fluid, it's a philosophy, open to interpretation, and something I need to hold onto with a looser grip. I also realized that being unsatisfied with things is OK, it's normal, especially where my recovery is concerned. It doesn't mean I can't celebrate small victories along the way, and I can be happy with my progress, but being less than satisfied is what's going to motivate me to continue moving forward.

My ultimate goal since day one has been getting back on the bike. Once I can pedal with intent, I'll be satisfied, or at least that's what I've been telling myself. But I know when (not if) that day comes I'll probably look towards something else just beyond my reach.

I'm 10 days shy of 9 months post op, and I'm having a much easier time navigating life these days. Where I really feel a difference are in basic movements that we all take for granted. A year ago when I opened the fridge I had to be careful how I bent over to pull out a quart of almond milk. One false move and a few friendly volts of electricity might surge across my low back forcing me to go to one knee. But these days I'm bending, twisting, rolling around with relative ease. I don't have to think before bending down to grab a shoe, and lifting slightly heavy objects has become a non-event. There's still that ever-present tightness, but the sharp pain is a memory.

On halloween a friend of mine got married (to another friend), and she asked me to walk her down the aisle. I was floored and honored by her request, and happy to be a part of her big day. But I was also a little nervous leading up to the big day. It meant a long night of sitting and standing and (gasp) dancing. Maybe it was the beer and wine, but I felt pretty good all night and managed to work up a decent sweat on the dance floor...the first time I've danced in longer than I care to remember. It was also the first time in well over a year that I felt normal, part of the crowd, where pain wasn't the first thing on my mind. I'd forgotten what that was like, and I got a taste. Now I want the whole god damn meal!

Here comes the bride!

My activity levels have steadily increased. I'm still knocking out 4-6 miles a week in the pool and have incorporated TRX training into my workouts, but I've curbed the hiking for a while. Along with disc problems, I've had a lifelong sacro-iliac (SI) joint injury. A chiropractor I've been seeing locally told me he's only seen one other patient with an SI joint as damaged as mine. Not the first time I've heard that.

So about 6 weeks ago I underwent stem cell injections into my SI joint. The doc removed fat from my left flank and extracted stem cells from the adipose tissue. There's discussion amongst doctors as to which is more effective, bone marrow or adipose derived stem cells. Bone marrow stem cells require culturing to achieve a sufficient number cells, whereas adipose tissue provides about 500x the number of stem cells over bone marrow, and the process is much less invasive and less expensive. She also mixed some PRP into the stem cell cocktail and injected it into my SI joint. Doc said it takes 2-3 months before seeing any real results, so I've got some time yet, but she advised against doing any aggressive hiking while the stem cells did their stuff to let the joints heal, so I'm just doing 30 minute sessions on the treadmill at 15% incline along with swimming until my SI joint has strengthened up.

Ironically it's my mid back and neck that are currently a bigger issue. But I'm hoping that's just transitional and will sort itself out. Gone are the days of feeling like I've got a foreign object in my spine. Basic day to day movements cause me no grief, but sitting all day at work and standing for longer than 15 minutes causes discomfort, but not the agonizing pain I experienced 3 months ago.

So little by little my life is beginning to return. I'm not satisfied, but I'll never be satisfied, and I'm fine with that.

Peace out!

One more trip around the sun

Tomorrow I'll complete 45 trips around the sun. It's customary for people to congratulate you on your birthday as if you actually earned something. I've always found it strange when someone offers ME a hearty congratulations, when the person they should really applaud is my mom. She's the one who forced a watermelon out of her uterus. So mom, congratulations! Forty five years ago you made me possible. You deserve all the credit.

So, it's been a while since I tickled you with my ramblings. Where am I? Doing OK, actually. As always, I'm never satisfied with my progress, but slowly moving in the right direction. I'm still dealing with this constant pressure that increases in severity with prolonged sitting and standing. But I'm able to lightly sprint up steep hills during my hikes, and I'm easily knocking out 80-100 laps in the pool at a spirited pace. I've been occasionally 'riding' the stationary bike, and while it feels great to turn a crank (even if I'm not moving) sitting basically motionless while I pedal is difficult for more than 30 minutes. But I'll take what I can get right now.

For those who've read most of my posts, this thread of being unsatisfied pops up frequently. I don't mean to give the wrong impression. My standards of recovery are just a bit higher than some. Before surgery I was active on a level slightly above the average Joe. So my idea of 'getting back to normal' might seem optimistic to some, but it's MY idea of normal that makes it difficult to accept anything less. I'm capable of enjoying activities with much less discomfort now than I could two months ago, and I appreciate every gain. But until I'm on the bike chasing my friends through the woods I won't be completely satisfied.

With that said, other areas of my life are a bowl of cherries! The new job I started a few weeks ago is awesome. I've got the freedom to work from home, and the crew I'm working with are fun and easy to collaborate with. I love living in the Santa Cruz mountains! I've got an amazing group of friends here and meeting more people every day. I have an endless network of trails right outside my front door and each morning when I'm out searching for new trails I stop and soak in how happy I feel at this moment in my life.

I hope happiness finds you as well. And on your next birthday call your mom and say thanks. She earned it.

Peace!

Home Sweet Home

I'm all moved into my new place, affectionately called, "The Birdhouse'. It's a tiny cabin on a property in lovely Felton, California where several other people call home as well. In the main house there's a young newlywed couple with plans to open a Boba Tea shop, a talented musician, a bike rep, and a single mom and her 4 (and a half) year old son in another, larger cabin. The neighborhood is nestled into the redwoods and is across the road from Henry Cowell state park with endless hiking and mountain biking opportunities. Now I just gotta get my back ready for riding!

A home fit for a Hobbit!

I report to my new job tomorrow morning. While I can swim hard and fast for over a mile and eek out a strenuous 7 mile hike, sitting still gives me fits. Being stationary is the most difficult thing for me to handle right now. So I'm not sure how I'm going to feel after a day at a desk. I imagine a lot of laps around the office during the day. While I'm not looking forward to the sedentary nature of work, it's been a while since I've been in the workplace, so it will feel good to shake the rust off.

Felton is next to Santa Cruz, a small town of about 6k people where downtown stretches all of three blocks. Quite a dramatic shift from Los Angeles. I went to school in Santa Cruz 25 years ago and it's incredible how little has changed in that time. This will be a perfect opportunity to slow down (if it's even possible to slow any further) and focus even more on my recovery. I'm looking at the next 6 months as a pivotal period in my life and look forward to the coming seasons of change.

Benjamin and I both agree...Santa Cruz rocks!

Peace!

Chapter 2

I escaped Los Angeles by the skin of my teeth! Dismantling LA is one of my favorite hobbies, I know. But I would be remiss if I didn't recognize some of the positive experiences that Los Aaanheeless provided me.

First, a little back story. I grew up in Santa Monica. Not exactly hell on earth, but I left after high school and found a home in the Bay Area that better suited my wants and needs. I was raised right down the street from Zephyr Surf shop, the birthplace of the modern skating movement and inspiration for the documentary, Dogtown and Z-Boys, and the feature film, Lords of Dogtown. I was a little grommet back in the 70's, and I idolized the older Z-Boys skate gods like Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta and Jay Adams, who basically defined skateboarding for a generation.

Zephyr Surf is now Dogtown Coffee. They serve a good cup 'o joe at DTC, and they pay homage to Zephyr and that period in time through their decor, but they're capitalizing on a time as if it's fashionable without truly providing a history of that time. But a fan recently put up a memorial outside the cafe for Jay Adams, one of the Z-Boys, who died recently while on a surfing trip to Mexico. While standing outside and staring at the memorial, a young couple next to me commented, "Who is Jay Adams?" It made me sad that anyone wouldn't understand the significance of someone who contributed to the local history, but it just reminded me that everything changes, nothing is permanent and we all keep moving forward regardless.

I came back to Santa Monica in the Fall of last year after learning that my mother had been diagnosed with lung and breast cancer. Thankfully it wasn't metastatic, but scary nonetheless. So I moved into my old bedroom in order to be there for mom while she went through her three surgeries and requisite treatments post op. It was a rough few months for mom, but she's doing pretty well considering. Unfortunately, the doctors detected two new spots on her lungs that have been determined to be cancer, so she's attacking this news with even greater determination. The good news is she feels great. The bad news is, the unknown. But she's active, exercises every day and continues to fight the good fight.

The past year has been a mixed bag of, well, to be blunt, crap! A year ago I tore some ligaments in my back that left me practically immobile. Then mom got hit with her cancer news. I proceeded to embark on 4 painful months of PRP and prolotherapy treatments, involving countless injections into my spine with very large needles and no anesthetic. Followed by mom's surgeries and treatments, and my deteriorating back, which eventually led me to Germany for disc replacement.

Two things happened in Germany that I haven't discussed on this blog. First, an incredibly tragic event took place that will forever shape how I view my recovery. I had a surgery partner in Germany. Another back pain patient who was also there for disc replacement surgery. He and I were scheduled for surgery on the same day, and we were both relieved and excited to have someone to lean on during our recoveries. Sadly, he never left Germany.

His name will remain private, as will the details surrounding his passing out of respect for his family, friends and his grieving widow. I was beyond devastated when I heard the news, and every day during my rehab, on every walk, and every step I take towards getting my life back I carry with me the hopes he had of regaining his life, being able to play with his son and spend a pain free life with his wife and family. I'm recovering for two people now, and I consider it an honor to shoulder that responsibility.

The other, and much less tragic yet still painful blow, occurred when my girlfriend at the time, someone who I considered above all else a true friend, suddenly stopped speaking to me and ceased responding to my messages...while I was laid up in a hospital 7000 miles away. I've since allowed my anger to fade, but the sting of being treated with no more regard than last weeks newspaper will last for a long time.

But wait, this was supposed to be about the good stuff I found, or rather found me, in LA. I joined a cancer caregiver support group at the Cancer Support Community Benjamin Center. The group consisted of a very diverse collection of people, all caring for loved ones with varying degrees of cancer. This group turned out to be far more than I had anticipated, and proved to be a huge part of not only my recovery in dealing with my mother's cancer, but also my own recovery from surgery and other personal issues in my life. These people are insightful, hold no judgement and truly want to see each and every person who attends find peace, strength and happiness. Listening to them share their experiences and offer advice helped me develop perspective and work through my own issues in a much more production and constructive manner.

I was referred to a massage therapist through my chiropractor, who himself requires about 10 pages for me to accurately explain his contributions to my recovery. But my massage therapist, Lana, also became an integral part of my journey in Los Angeles, healing me with her advice and opinions as much as her hands. She and I immediately developed a friendship that will continue no matter where I live and whose advice I will regularly seek out. Our sessions were part physical massage, part mind and spirit therapy. Lana, you healed me in more than one way.

Thanks to one of my t-shirts that advertised a mountain bike race I had competed in years ago, I became friends with Henry, a fellow cyclist who works at Dogtown Coffee. I would stop by DTC every morning on my way to the beach to grab a coffee or kale smoothie. I was in the thick of the post op pain and recovery, and not the friendliest guy to look at. But he saw past my blank stare and struck up a conversation after seeing my shirt, which eventually led to a friendship, and one that made my stay in LA that much easier to manage. Thanks, big Hank!

One of my oldest friends lives in Los Angeles on a slice of heaven in Highland Park near Pasadena. Julie, her husband Eric and their two beautiful and brilliant boys live in what I consider to be the most perfect outpost imaginable. They have created an oasis of peace and creativity that I didn't think possible in Los Angeles, but they give me hope that places like that do exist. And I was able to spend more time reconnecting with Julie and her brood that wouldn't have been available to me had I not found myself back in the City of Angels. So regardless what the circumstances were that brought me back, I'm glad I was able to use that time to reignite an old friendship.

My chiropractor, Dr. Charles Blum. What can I say. I'm walking again because of him. There aren't enough words to express my gratitude for all of the work he put in to straightening out my body. Thanks doesn't begin to cover how I feel. But a never ending thanks is all I have.

It was a long ten months in Los Angeles, and now that I'm in Santa Cruz, staying with friends while I prepare to move into my new place and start a new job, it feels like my time in SoCal went by in a flash. I'm creeping up on 6 months post op, and while I'm not yet ready for the rigors of the bike, I'm moving better, more active and stronger today than I was a two months ago. My optimism for my future flickers a little brighter, and my appreciation for what I can do rather than what I can't continues to grow.

I feel like the second chapter of my life is about to begin. And I'm taking a step back, reflecting on mistakes I've made in my personal life, with my family, friends, and using this opportunity to start fresh. My recovery is going to remain slow and require patience, but time is gift, and I've got nothing but time.

Ciao for now, kids!

Still Smokin'

Sorry for the hiatus, folks. Well, things are moving along. As always, not fast enough, but still moving forward. I'm getting in about 10 miles a day on foot and incorporated stair work outs again.  I started swimming as well, or rather splashing around like a kid with ADHD after sucking down a couple Cokes. My freestyle ain't pretty. I manage to get in about 40-50 laps before the back lets me know it's time to stop.

I'm still being taunted by this persistent pressure in my low back. It's a very familiar type of discomfort that I've beed dealing with for about 20 years, but it's not completely limiting me from getting out and living my life. I'm coming up on 5 months now and haven't experienced any sharp pain or numbness and tingling for a while, so I'm hoping that phase is behind me. That 'foreign object' feeling comes and goes. Some moments I feel light and airy, other moments I know it's there. I imagine this will follow me around for a while based on accounts from other ADR patients.

About 6 weeks ago I was able to begin stretching again, starting slowly and inching my way back to yoga shape. My downward dog is starting to look pretty damn good. I can bend at the waist and rest my knuckles on the ground, so the hammies and glutes are starting to respond. I can ease into a spinal twist that really helps stretch out my piriformis. Stretching, more than anything else, seems to really help with my recovery. And it just feels good to know that I can bend and twist without that fear of something 'catching'.

One big change is the work situation. I've been living the lifestyle of the not-so-rich and shameless on the beach for most of this year, and it looks like this extended vacation is coming to an end. I accepted a job that starts on August 25th. I'm not looking forward to sitting for long periods of time, which my job requires, but it will be nice to get back to work and start replenishing those pennies I spent in Germany. I'll be in Santa Monica for a few more weeks, but I'm moving to Santa Cruz for the foreseeable future. The new job allows me the freedom to work remotely, so I'm going to check out a couple other potential locations to lay my head. But for a while at least, I can be found traipsing around the forests in the Santa Cruz mountains searching for Sasquatch.

Peace out!

Good luck, Drew!

During my recovery I've become friends with a fellow spiney who has had a long and arduous road to surgery. Right about now he's moments away from going under the knife in Barcelona to have three discs corrected with a combination fusion and disc replacement.

Good luck, Drew! See you on the other side! Bring me back some paella.

- I

What goes down must come up

I had intended to go out for a light walk and ended up doing some serious climbing. For the first time in a long while I can honestly say my legs are cooked. One trail in particular was about 900 feet of elevation in less than a mile. I've done more on the single speed, but since it's been the better part of a year since I've really exerted myself, that took some effort. As always, the climb up was much easier on the back, but the river at the bottom was worth the descent.

A River Runs Through It

The good news is that my sacrum and hips feel pretty decent while hiking. It's my low and mid back that get cranky. But once I sit or lay down for a moment it seems to settle down for a while. It feels more muscle related than mechanical at this point, which is what concerned me a couple months ago. Muscle tension I can deal with. 

Here Kitty Kitty

I caught a fairly spectacular fireworks show in Scotts Valley with some friends last night. Living in the Bay Area you aren't accustomed to actually seeing fireworks as it's quite common for fog to role in this time of year in the evenings. In the 6 years I lived in San Francisco I never actually 'saw' a fireworks show. More like a cloudy glow. Unfortunately my camera was dead, so no photos of the pyrotechnics. But trust me, it was awesome! But here are some flags for ya!

'Murica! Home of the big gulp and land of the monster truck.

So things are moving in the right direction. Setbacks are fewer and less frequent, and gains seem to be multiplying. Knock on wood. 

I hope everyone had a great fireworks day!

8 Mile

Indeed

More like 8 and a half. I managed to manhandle my biggest workout yesterday. I eeked out an 8.5 mile hike with about 1500 feet of climbing. As expected, walking downhill is the hardest part, but the uphill climbs felt good. I'm very conscious of how I plant my feet and absorb energy on steep descents. Who knew your knees could act like shock absorbers!? I stopped and rested a couple times when my back tightened up, but overall felt pretty decent and was able to push off my feet without any pain. There were numerous short, steep hills and one long climb that forced me to elevate my heart rate. I miss feeling my ticker pump hard. Being winded is a glorious feeling!

Natures lawn mowers

It's a popular loop in the East Bay hills that circles around a huge valley with an intricate network of singletrack trails favored by mountain bike hating hikers. I stuck with the fireroad to play things safe. But I'm building back up towards tackling more technical trails with varied terrain. Inching closer and closer to getting back on the bike!

Room with a view

Overall I'm pretty satisfied with my effort. I was very tight and stiff after the hike, but once I sat down and rested my weary bones I felt OK and was able to enjoy a nice meal with a friend in relative comfort. Exercise itself is less of a concern so much as the recovery, and once my back settled down after the hike I was relieved knowing I can handle such efforts and feel a lot better about slowly increasing my output. Operative word being slowly. Not taking any chances this time! I think that's called growth. Damn, I hate this getting old and patient stuff!

Now where's that Everest mountain place people say is tough?

Back on the Island

I'm back in Alameda. My Island. Yeah, it's mine!

I stopped by Speisekammer with a couple friends. It's a local German spot with a nice selection of brew and some tasty dishes, too! I'm a poet and didn't even know it!

Anna and Tanya getting tipsy

Alameda is a small town in the San Francisco Bay, a quick 20 minute ferry boat ride to Downtown San Francisco, but this might as well be Anytown, USA. It's only been 8 months since I left, but feels like 8 years. Even though it's nice to move on to something new, Alameda will always feel like home.

So, the past few days have been pretty decent. That little backslide I experienced for a couple days last week is in my rearview and I've been getting in some good walks and urban hikes and haven't felt any of that annoying burning lately. I seem to have established this pattern of taking two steps forward and one step back lately, which is a lot better than the opposite. But as long as I'm moving forward it's all good.

Next stop, 40K!

My hamstrings are feeling a lot better lately and I've been able to get into some fairly deep stretches without taxing my back too much. My downward dog is finally starting to return. I'm still reluctant to start pushing it yet and plan to continue this easy climb back. I figure at the rate I'm progressing, by 6 months I will hopefully be ready to start really pushing my rehab. Being cautious has never been my strong suit, so this whole taking it easy business is an entirely new experience. It's taken a while to develop a patient approach, but I'm starting to (reluctantly) settle into this new role.

One nice treat before I left Santa Cruz was the opportunity to hang out with my friend's kid, Benjamin. Bennie is one sweet kid and a blast to hang out with. 

Future heartbreaker

I'll be hanging out in Alameda a little longer than expected before driving up to Oregon, which is fine with me. Gives me a chance to get back to island living.

Aloha!

Cruzin...

I finally escaped Los Angeles for a little Bay Area R and R. I first visited my friend Kim in Truckee and spent a couple days with her and her two future pro athlete sons. We spent an afternoon at the recently built bike park watching kids get airborne. It was brutal watching and not being able to ride, but I got to live vicariously through Jack as he launched off some sick jumps!

Jack going big!

I managed to squeeze in a short hike with Kim, but the terrain was a little more rugged than I was ready for. Lots of steep, rocky sections that required me to go slow. After a couple miles I had to call it a day and cash in my chips. My back just isn't ready for an unbalanced hike yet. Kind of disappointed I'm not further along at this point. I would have hoped by 4 months I'd be traversing rocky trails with relative ease. Patience, grasshopper. 

Kim taking a break from her normal 100 mile bike days to humor me with an easy stroll.

After leaving Truckee I stopped at the home of the one and only Drew, a future disc replacement patient I've been speaking with for the past few months, but haven't yet seen in person. He's scheduled for surgery in Barcelona in a couple weeks and is the most prepared any person could possibly be for a procedure like this. It's been a long time coming, but he's going to come home a new man. I can't wait to see you walking around pain free, Drew!

I'm currently in Santa Cruz staying with my friends Paule and Julie at their chateau in the woods. They live near mountain biking nirvana in the shadow of the Santa Cruz mountains. Paule is a master chef and knows his way around meat. If you don't like meat, this ain't the house for you! After a week at Chez PauleJulie, it's gonna be hard to return to Los Angeles.

It's what's for dinner

I was most concerned about spending hours in the car, and the drive up was a little rough. I stopped a little less than planned mainly because I just wanted to get the drive over as soon as possible. A quick stretch helped settle down my back and I was able to sit in relative comfort for about 30 minutes before the burn started to settle in.

I'm meeting with friends spread out around the Bay Area, so that means a lot more driving. Then on Monday I leave for Bend, Oregon. That's gonna be a tough stretch. My back was feeling somewhat decent until yesterday. I woke up with a deep, penetrating burn in my low back and it got worse with exercise. I attempted a walk in the woods yesterday, but got a couple miles in and felt an all too familiar tingle in my back, so I turned around and came home. I'm still doing my daily rehab, which consists of a series of light stretches and contractions. Otherwise I'm listening to my body and only doing what it tells me I can do. And at the moment that's not much. Dr. Bierstedt told me it's the ligaments and muscles still feeling strained and that I need to continue taking it easy for another month. 

The level of discomfort isn't too intense, but it's a nagging pressure that makes me nervous because it feels like a prelude to something bigger. So I'm going to wait for this to pass until I start pushing it again. It just feels like yet another slight backslide I have to wait out. I keep needing to remind myself that 4 months isn't that long since surgery. I had hoped I'd be one of those lucky few who are back to running marathons by now, but that's just not going to happen.

I had a goal of being on the bike by Summer Solstice. I've now changed my plans for fall. Big picture! Gotta think Big Picture!

Pedi makes it all better

I was a little wound up with my last post. So my cousin and I went and got our pedi on today. Nothing like some proper foot care to soothe your soul.

Guess which is me...

Since I didn't mention how things are going in my previous rant, I figured a quick round up was in order. I've stepped up the exercise a bit. Nothing too crazy, mainly spirited walks. I'm doing about 5 miles each morning with a lot of hill repeats. Short, steep hills where I can drive off the balls of my feet and really engage the old glutes. I push hard enough uphill to break a sweat and actually get my heart rate above 120. My biggest issues right now are being sedentary. Sitting and standing still present the biggest problems, but this area is improving slowly. Some days I can sit down to a good meal in peace, some days not so much.

I spend my rehab doing a combination of postural correction movements and stretching. Honestly, I feel like I could do much more, but I'm playing it safe for now. I learned my lesson the hard way once not to rush things, and will let my body be the judge of when to unleash the hounds. One promising indication that things are improving is that I can easily do 70+ continuous stomach crunches without pain. I'm tight, but when I contract my stomach I experience no sharp pains that prior to surgery would have been impossible to perform. And I can bend at the waist and touch my toes! Next stop, the floor!

I'm planning a road trip to the Bay Area, Tahoe and Oregon and a little concerned about the toll the driving will take on my back, but I'm going to stop at every pie stand along the way to give my spine a break and fill my belly. I've been in LA since last November, away from my peoples up north and it's time I reconnected.

Hey Paule, fire up that grill, heat up the hot tub and get those margaritas ready!

 

A new normal?

I had a conversation recently with an old friend who is a little conservative in how he chooses to live his life. He takes few real risks with his body and considers popping a jalepeno in his mouth living on the edge. But he's a warm and caring person and someone I've always considered a good friend.

After listening to me drone on about the slow pace of my recovery he said, "You might need to consider that this could be your new normal." I smiled a mildly contemptuous smile and changed the subject for fear of lashing out. This is a very sore subject for me and ranks right up there with, "Be patient."

This notion that any period in your life is a 'New Normal' is something I attribute to people who either don't possess the stones to keep pushing or just accept what's in front of them. Admitting to yourself that whatever you feel at a given moment is your New Normal is basically saying, 'I'm done trying, I'm just going to accept where I'm at, grab a pint of Phish Food, and become one with the couch.'

Fuck that! New Normal my ass! My entire life has been an ever evolving Cirque Du, Du, Du...Do whatever the hell I want! When my body tells me I can't do something, I simply adapt to what I can do. That is my god damn Normal!

And while we're on the subject of patience - unless you have daily migraines, or a knee that never works right, or a shoulder that's perpetually separated, or a back that burns the moment you wake up and remains on fire until you lay down to sleep, you don't know what patience is. Unless you've spent 25 years with what can best be described as a 40 pound sack of flour strapped to your back, day in and day out, slowly collapsing your spine, you haven't the foggiest idea what it means to be patient.

So let this be a warning to anyone who tells me to be patient with my recovery. I know! Stop telling me to be patient as if I have no insight into my life story. I appreciate your kindness and the manner in which it's offered, but I'm full to the brim with patience..

Cranky much? OK, clearly I need to get a drink. Whose joining me!

Don't call it a comeback!

Well, it's been a couple weeks since last I entertained you fine people. I've decided to take a break from the weekly updates and just 'be' for a while. I was beginning to over think my recovery and get frustrated at times. Sometimes you gotta let go to find what you're looking for.

A fellow 'spiney' friend of mine who has problems with his back that dwarf mine, asked me recently if I felt like the surgery was a success at this stage. I told him an emphatic NO. But not for the reasons he suspected. I set very a very high standard for my recovery. I was active on a fairly high level, and determined before surgery that anything less than returning to my former active life would be unacceptable. Some people might say that's unrealistic, but that's the deal I made with myself and that's what continues to drive me. Admittedly, it's a tad arrogant. But I can live with that.

With that said, do I have any regrets? An equally as emphatic NO. I'm not going to judge the failure or success of my surgery for a long time. Until then it's a work in progress measured by varying degrees of improvement. Things are advancing and my mobility is far better today than it was a month ago. I did 50 stomach crunches this morning during rehab and didn't feel any pain. That is serious progress. And bending over to touch my toes doesn't scare me any longer. I'm not even close to touching them yet, but I'm getting there. I still have a constant nagging pressure and tightness in my low back, but the sharp pains completely receded and I'm walking around like Tony Manero again. I'm beginning to feel human, but not until I'm back in the saddle, single-speeding up some rocky mountain, any mountain, will I declare this little episode in my life a rousing success.

But I've been using my downtime to reconnect with friends. I spent the day recently with my old friend Leigh, who I haven't seen in years and someone I have long considered one of my favorite people. One day with Leigh and all my problems are sorted out and I'm ready to attack life again.

Hey Matt...jealous!?

I'm planning a road trip to the Bay Area next week to visit friends and do a little recon for my next phase. My days in sunny Southern California are coming to a close and it's time I start planning my exit strategy. My goal is to be out of this berg by the end of August, my body willing of course. My days have been filled with rehab and reflection, but it's time I start thinking about where I might find myself next. Southern California is a nice place to visit, but I sure as hell don't want to live here. And 7 months is about 6 months too long for this cranky old man.

I'm finally excited about my future for the first time in a while, which is a far cry from where I've been. I still struggle with being patient. But daily meditation has helped tremendously with allowing my mind to simply slow down and accept the moment for what it is. Life is impermanence. Everything changes, the good and the not so good. Nothing remains static. So I try to find that balance between the ebb and flow of life and realize that this moment in time is just a small blip in my lifetime. And an even smaller blip in the greater picture. 

I hope you're all well and enjoying life! Stay thirsty my friends!

3 months post op - Magic Time!

So, based on other disc replacement patients I've spoken with, the three month mark seems to be when most people start feeling like they're turning the corner. Now I had allowed myself to start feeling good about my progress around week 6, then around week 8 things went all cockeyed. So call me superstitious, but I'm not gonna start doing any cartwheels just yet when I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Because it just might be a freight train.

But...

About 4 days ago I did start feeling noticeably better. And each day since I've experienced improvements in mobility and my overall wellbeing. Maybe the meditation has something to do with it, who knows. I'm not throwing any parties yet, but I do feel better. So I celebrated my 3 month mark with my cousin by getting a happy buzz at happy hour in Venice.

Cheers!

My flexibility is returning, and my piriformis is getting much more limber. The numbness and tingling in my left leg has all but disappeared and my strut is getting back in full Saturday Night Fever mode. I was supposed to meet with my doc today to go over my 3 month xrays, but he had to reschedule till Thursday. I know my body well enough to say I'm ready to start tackling stairs again and reboot my rehab program. But I plan to slowly integrate more movement into my program and keep close tabs on how I respond. My lumber and thoracic seem to tighten up when I walk more than a couple miles, but seems to remain in check. The disjointed feeling I experienced in my hips and sacrum area has died down, which was my main concern.

So all is good for the moment. But I know how quickly things can change on a dime, and I'm appreciating each step forward right now.

Celebrities seem to be coming out of the woodwork lately. I ran into Chris Bell, the filmmaker behind, 'Bigger, Stronger, Faster'. It's a documentary about steroids and performance enhancing drugs. Great movie. I spoke with him briefly and told him how much I enjoyed his film. Nice guy who really seems to appreciate when people give him props.

And seated across from me while eating a mile high pastrami sandwich at Jerry's Deli in Marina Del Rey was adult entertainment performer, Janine Lindemulder. She's a little hard to miss seeing as how she's covered in colorful ink, and looks pretty damn good if I must say so.

Otherwise the recovery train keeps rolling along. My beer buzz is starting to wear off and I think it's time for bed. 

Goodnight my friends! 

Marinate on that!

A few weeks ago I mentioned a guy I'd seen in the park meditating for well over an hour. Completely motionless, sitting bolt upright like a statue. It was impressive, and something I aspire towards, if even to merely taste what he experiences for a moment.

For the past week I've been attempting to meditate. Having no real baseline, I simply sit for as long as my back will allow and try to clear my thoughts. Much easier said than done. I started with 5 minutes, then 10, and today was able to enjoy 15 minutes of clear-minded cogitation. There are these blue, curved metal benches at the beach that are far more comfortable than they appear. And each morning I walk to these benches and attempt to clear my mind. But the hardest part isn't the act of sitting, so much as allowing myself to 'be'. But today I felt myself slowly collapse into a state of relaxation I haven't experienced in some time.

With my eyes closed I soak in each sound - singing birds, barking dogs, feet gliding along the path in front of me. And I give each sound an opportunity to enter, swim around in my mind, then slowly exit as they find a new audience. As these sounds become part of the background I feel myself relaxing further, until I begin feeling nothing. No care or worry. No desire. No need or want.

A friend of mine sent me a quote from a Buddhist teacher and author named Pema Chadron. This quote resinated with me, and found me at a time when my confidence has been less than resolute. But I need to view the past year of my life as another in a series of "endless opportunities to start to do things differently."

Peace out bean sprouts!

Week 12 post op - This speech is my recital, I think it's very vital

I seem to have plateaued recently. This week saw no real change, but that's not necessarily bad news. The broken toe is doing well enough that I can walk normally and push off my foot with near full force, but I'm still taking it very easy. I haven't increased my walking output, and will continue to pace myself for another week when I see the doc for my three month check up. 

I had dinner with a friend of mine at her mountain side estate over looking Los Angeles and was able to toss around a baseball with her young son. I wasn't exactly shagging flies like the Say Hey Kid, but it did feel good to move in something vaguely reminiscent of my active days. While each toss of the ball caused me to stiffen up in preparation of the lightning bolts of pain, all I felt was the ever present burning in my low back that I can't seem to shake.

My tolerance for sitting has improved slightly. I was able to sit long enough to watch Godzilla destroy San Francisco without wanting to put a bullet in my head, so that's good news. Or maybe it was just the calming effect of seeing San Francisco being leveled by a giant CGI lizard that soothed my back. Either way, it wasn't an unpleasant experience.

Celebrity sighting of the week - While in line at a local health food restaurant I saw none other than Mr. Def Jam himself, Russell Simmons. He was quite pleasant and took photos with anyone who asked. A woman next to me asked who he was. I explained to her that he's a big shot music producer, founder of Def Jam, fashion icon, etc. She had no idea who he was. But apparently seeing other people ask for a photo made her feel he was famous so she asked for a photo as well. I was afraid to mention Run DMC to her because I would have gotten all kinds of angry if she gave me a look that said, 'Who?'

Anyways, I'm creeping up on the magic three month mark. I had some lofty goals by this time, and I haven't met most of them. Looks like I'll need to retrench and come up with a new, more realistic plan of attack for the next three months. 

Until then, burn the candle at both ends, my friends!

Week 11 post op - I'd like to hear some funky Dixieland

Pretty mama, come and take me by the hand, by the hand

OK, I know I put LA on blast...a lot. But when the weather is warm and the sun is slowly descending over the Pacific and you're sipping a beer on the Venice boardwalk while a band of musicians play the Doobie Brothers, things don't suck.

My supremely talented cousin, Fanny

I can't complain too much when I can sit in relative comfort and enjoy a beer with my cuz at the beach. Things are steadily improving. The numbness in my left leg and foot have faded into a slow trickle. I'm still taking it very easy, and will continue to follow doctors orders for another couple weeks. Luckily the broken left pinky toe keeps me honest, so even if I wanted to attack the Santa Monica stairs I could only stand at the base and watch other people have all the fun.

I'm doing a daily series of very simple postural exercises to help improve my pitiful stance and walking around 3-5 miles a day. I'm getting back on track in terms of my strut and figure I can reboot my rehab exercises in a couple weeks. For my loyal followers, I apologize for limiting my posts to once a week, but I'm not feeling the need to share much these days since my day to day has become rather uninteresting. Once I ramp up with the training I'll bore you to tears with every little victory.

I'm still experiencing a constant and nagging burning along my sacrum and the tightness in my back is more of an annoyance than anything else. I haven't felt any sharp or electrical pains in a while, but the sensation that there is a foreign object in my spine remains. Again, it's hard to describe, but I can feel the disc. I have a hunch this sensation is going to take a while to dissipate on it's own before it takes a few beers to eliminate completely.

So, to sum up. Progress. Patience. Pilsner.

Holla!

Week 10 post op - This little piggy went wee, wee, wee...

Here we are, a few weeks shy of the magic three month mark. Not where I was hoping to be, but I need to admit to myself that I set my bar fairly high. I can't really gauge my progress in days at the moment, more like weeks. Since I was making big strides early on it's difficult to take a step back. I'm not built to sit and spectate. It's just not in my DNA. But I'm reluctantly sticking to this whole rest thing. Seriously, how do couch potatoes do it!?

But when I take an honest look at my current state I can't deny that I'm feeling better than I was two weeks ago when I fell off the proverbial cliff. My back is constantly tight, with some lovely burning around my SI joints, but those pesky electrical shocks haven't returned. The numbness in my left leg and foot have subsided a bit. It's not nearly as white hot as it was, but it's still lingering, like a half-starved hyena skulking around a stripped-clean elephant corpse in the Serengeti trying to keep the jackals at bay.

I did sustain a new injury that is probably a blessing in disguise now that I've had time to think about it. I slipped down some steps over the weekend and my left foot got wedged in the stair railing and snapped my damn pinky toe! So even if I wanted to go for a hike I'm now forced to take it easy with a new fracture to add to my lifetime collection of over 30 broken bones. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. I can still walk around, just not with quite as much vigor. I figure it'll take another few weeks before I can really push off the toe with any real force. Kind of convenient how that coincides with the three month mark? Coincidence my ass! Damn you, Universe!

But enough about my sedentary existence. I'd rather talk about my visit with the woman who has been occupying space in a corner of my mind for the past 23 years. It's amazing how certain people can stop time. The past couple of decades felt like they had never happened the moment I saw her. Spending time with her is effortless, so perfectly natural. She's the kind of person you can't help but be drawn towards. Strangers find themselves talking with her as comfortably as they would an old friend. She simply has a way of making you feel happy to be in her presence. Needless to say, I smiled more in the 4 days I spent with her than I have in the past 4 months. And now that corner of my mind has expanded to accommodate the overflowing ocean that are my thoughts of her.

To love and healing! Can't have one without the other.

Week 9 post op - Blast From My Past

Not much new to report this week. The tension and burning in my back as lessened a smidge, but the numbness down my left leg and foot remain. I've refrained from all physical activities other than walking, and now I'm down to about 2 miles a day.

I saw Dr. Carl Lauryssen today. He's one of the better known names in the field of disc replacement. Since I don't have a neuro in LA to consult with during my recovery, I figured who better then the only guy in these parts who actually performs ADR with the M6, although he flies to Europe to perform the operations. I brought all of my recent films for him to check out. He pointed out one thing that I actually saw, but never really gave a second thought. The endplate on the bottom of the disc extends just past the edge of the vertebrae (at L5) about 2mm. He said chances are it's not causing any problems, but it's something to keep an eye on.

He stated that he's rather conservative where rehab is concerned. He advises all of his patients to wait three months before doing anything other than walking. When I told him of my activity level by week 6 he was a little surprised. He said I may have over done it, but it's impossible to tell what caused this flare up. But he did tell me to back off and just walk for the next month. So back to the drawing board I go. I'm seeing him again in 4 weeks with a new set of films. He said if my symptoms haven't subsided in 2-3 weeks then we should get concerned, but he's fairly confident things will settle down.

Dr. Bierstedt, meanwhile said the discs are accurately placed, but advised that I get a CT scan with sagittal reconstruction. Anyone wanna tell me what that means? I've made peace with where I'm at, and I'm simply being patient. Gotta go back to crawling before I can fly, again.

On a brighter note, my past tapped me on the shoulder recently. A woman who left a huge dent in my heart back when I was a cocky 21 year old who thought he knew everything, got in touch with me. The first melodic hymn from her sweet, sinful voice and I was hooked all over again. Twenty three years hasn't done anything to smooth out this dent. Some people never really leave you. We're seeing each other this week. I guess you can say I'm a little excited. This is the type of woman who alters the course of a man's life. And I'm thankful for second chances.

I hope I have better things to report on my physical state in the future. But my personal life looks very promising.

Holla!

Mojo

Blink and it can change. Mojo that is. My entire life has been about movement, about what I can do with (and to) my body. I wish I could find satisfaction in being still, contemplating, meditating. The other day while laying on the grass in the park and reading, the warm sun tickling my skin, I watched a man meditate. He sat facing a tree for well over an hour, motionless, simply 'being'. This takes a level of focus I can't fathom. This also takes a great deal of physical awareness. His practice amazed me.

But I need to move. My mojo depends on it. Through week 7 of my recovery I felt my mojo return. My confidence creeping back into my smile a little more each day. My swagger reflected in my Saturday Night Fever strut.  In the past week my smile has receded, my swagger tucked away in the closet waiting to re-emerge, break out, run wild. I succumbed to the depression for a few days, moped around and felt sorry for myself. But I've since accepted the fact that my back will start to feel better when it starts to feel better, and I can't rush or predict when that will happen.

So my mojo will need to hibernate for a little while longer. And I'll be ready for it's return.

Week 8 post op - Slight detour

Things had been rolling along swimmingly, like a slow moving train through a colorful countryside in full spring time bloom. Unfortunately, last Friday this choo choo slowly started to derail, with things completely coming unglued Sunday morning. Admittedly, I've been pushing myself, but not too hard. I can honestly say that I never pushed through any pain and the moment I felt any sign that something wasn't right I backed off and rested. Doc told me to let pain be my guide, which is what I did. I've been walking everywhere, and doing the prescribed back exercises I was cleared to do and my back was being fairly cooperative, for the most part. On hikes I was deliberate in my steps and always took extra caution when planting my feet. And along with regular massages and chiropractic treatments I've been spoiling myself.

When my back took its detour I felt what I can only describe as electrical-like pain. It felt like a dozen bees started simultaneously stinging my lower back, then traveled down my left leg, stinging me along the way to my foot. The spasms have since subsided, but things are pretty tight at the moment, and my left leg and left foot are a bit numb. My tolerance for sitting and standing has definitely taken a huge step back. I feel like I did about 5 weeks ago. I was starting to get my swagger back and feel like my old self. Looks like that's going to have to wait. I can't deny, I'm feeling rather demoralized, and I'm fighting the desire to give in. But I know I can't. So I'll mope and pout for another day or so and get back in the race.

In the meantime it looks like I'll be spending a little more time in Pain Town. My chiro thinks this is just a bump in the road. The x-rays I had taken yesterday show the disc is still snug as a bug and hasn't migrated. I hadn't experienced any referral pain since I've been home and was hoping I'd just bypass that step during my recovery, but alas, I'm not so lucky. So for the time being it's back to bed rest, short walks around the block, ice, and spending far too much time online. My doc in Germany said this is temporary and will pass, which I believe. But it's getting passed the idea that something like this can strike again without notice that scares me. So I'll be walking on egg shells for a while.

Wish I could have reported something more positive. Still moving, just not forward at the moment.

Cheers.

Old dog, new constraints

If you've never seen what's behind the curtain, you never consider what could be. You're more easily satisfied with life, content with resting while the world spins furiously. At the moment, I envy these people.

Unfortunately, I've seen what exists beyond the horizon, and I can't pretend to be happy when I know from personal experience what is possible. Yeah, I know, I need to be realistic, I need to step back and consider the severity of my surgery and what ultimately landed me on the surgeons table - a long life burning my fuse until nothing was left.

A friend is visiting me in lovely LA, and we spent yesterday strolling around Venice beach. Nothing has changed in Venice since I was a scrawny, bronzed surf grommet. I think the vendors are even selling the same sunglasses from 30 years ago. We walked, talked, watched the guy juggling swords and playing the bagpipes while riding a 10 foot tall unicycle. We traveled about 10 miles on foot yesterday, and about a mile from home my back started to really protest. So we found a patch of grass and laid down for a while to let my angry spine calm down. We finally made it home, but it was clear my back wasn't going to stop complaining, so I vowed to take it easy for a couple days.

So this morning my friend and I hit the Santa Monica stairs and cranked out 5 laps. Yeah, I know, I never said I was the sharpest marble in the bag. Should I have rested? Probably. But this old dog sometimes needs to learn the hard way. I know, I know, there are some people who check into my blog who I expect to put me on blast. I deserve it, blast away. I won't argue. There's no damage done to my back, I just over did it a little. So I'm going to take it easy for a while. No, really, I mean it this time.

Peace out, bean sprouts!

Week 7 post op - Rest Day

Short and sweet this week. I pushed a little hard the past couple days, so I've decided to take it easy today. But easy these days means a leisurely 7 miles on foot, so I'll take it. The low back is feeling pretty good. I did experience some light spasms on Monday while doing the stairs. Well, it was actually after banging out some push ups in between climbs, but it settled down once I had some coconut fried chicken at Cha Cha Chicken.

My chiropractor believes the change in lumbar lordosis has caused me to lead more with my head, which I already do. I've always had poor posture and rounded shoulders and my neck cranes forward. He said it's visibly increased since surgery. As a result all of the muscles in my neck and upper back are compensating by grabbing hold and refusing to let go. So I gotta focus on lengthening my upper back and hopefully things will start to relax in time.

Frustrating, but if it's a choice between back and neck pain, I'll take the neck pain. I'm able to sit longer now, so meals have become more enjoyable. Standing still causes discomfort, but not as quickly as before. My conditioning is still improving and I'm able to sustain longer periods of exercise before my low back tightens up.

If my neck felt as good as my back I'd be in heaven right about now. But I'm getting closer.

Walkabout

I joined a local hiking group for a jaunt up to the highest peak in the Santa Monica mountains. The Sandstone Peak trailhead starts about 6 miles from PCH near the LA and Ventura County border. Or as we called it during my surfing days, County Line. There were about 80 people in this slow moving caravan, everyone rolling with the undulating trail with relative grace. It wasn't terribly technical, but there were enough steep, rocky up and downs to make things a little dicey for me. Going up is much easier than going down.

The size of the group and social nature of the hike required frequent stops. I like to socialize as much as the next guy, but it's difficult for me to stand around for too long, so I decided to part company and go my own way. The entire loop is about 7 miles, but I cut it a little short, doing about 5.5 miles. I could have finished the entire loop, but I'm still a little hesitant to push it just yet.

My back held up fine, getting tight, but never causing any pain. My neck, however, is becoming a serious problem. By the end of the hike I couldn't turn my head to the left and my right wasn't much better. My chiropractor said it's common for people who have lumbar surgery to experience neck pain. When you change the mechanics of the spine it creates a ripple effect, but this is usually transitory. However, he did say my level of pain, and the fact that I'm not responding to his adjustments, isn't common. I'm ecstatic that I can walk with no low back pain, but this neck nonsense is interfering with sleep and making it difficult to drive. I certainly hope this is temporary, because I'm not ready for another flight to Germany just yet.

Leave 'em wanting

Little by little I can feel my strength return. A few weeks ago two laps of the Santa Monica stairs was about as much as I wanted to push. Today I knocked out a brisk five laps and felt I had enough left in the tank for a few more passes. Now the old Ian would have pushed until something popped. The new and improved Ian likes to leave something in the tank and get while the gettin' is good.

Around week three I was walking a combined five miles in a day. I'm feeling well enough now to hit that number before breakfast. Being stationary is still the toughest part of my recovery. That just means no standing in line for 2 hours at LA's newest trendy bakery where Brad Pitt last grabbed a latte so I can sample some over priced, air-cooked donut disaster. But I can live with that. Move or die! I choose move.

6 weeks post op - And now for something completely different

I've decided to celebrate each weekly anniversary by doing something new, even if it's just for a brief moment. So today I dusted off the bitchin' do-everything commuter, and rode around the block. Took all of a couple minutes, but it was a glorious couple of minutes. It's been almost 9 months since I pedaled a bike, and the simple act of turning a crank felt incredible. With that said, I'm definitely not ready to absorb bumps while in the saddle.

I turned up the intensity level this past week. I increased the number of stairs and started swimming. My back got a little cranky towards the end of the week, but it's since settled down and is now feeling fairly decent, actually. However, my neck is officially a mess. I've always had periodic neck problems. Like most people I'd wake up with the occasional stiff neck, but nothing to write home about. For some reason, as my low back improves, my neck gets worse. Go figure. I've got a perma-headache at the base of my skull and I can't turn side to side easily, but I never did have great mobility in that department. So something new for my chiropractor to play with.

I'm averaging about 7-8 miles a day on foot and the series of resistance exercises I've been doing for my SI joints and low back have been going well. The pull up bars at the beach have been calling my name, so that's my next challenge.

Otherwise, still moving forward.

"Push through the pain, brother!"

Personal trainers like to bring their clients to the Santa Monica stairs. They come in bunches, doing a variety of cross fit-ish types of exercises, which they put their own twist on to stand apart from the myriad of trainers Los Angeles produces on a weekly basis.

The idea of pushing through pain has always puzzled me. My attitude towards exercise has always been, if you're suffering, you're doing it wrong. I've been in pain while riding my mountain bike countless times, but I was always having fun. I understand all about that 'dig deep' kind of pain to clean that last pull up, or break that 5 minute mile. But pushing through pain has become a badge of honor that many people confuse for a misplaced sense of accomplishment, in my opinion. 

"Dude, that last clean and jerk really hurt?" Um, ok. Does that make it any more satisfying? More of an achievement? The funny thing about pain is, it's all relative. What hurts for one person is a walk in the park for others. But one thing you rarely hear elite level athletes talk about after completing some herculean physical task was how much it hurt. You hear them talk about how much fun it was.  

So when a weekend warrior is doing push ups and grunting loudly for all around him to hear his mythical feat, and his trainer is barking at him to, "Push through the pain, brother!", it makes me wonder...why are you doing this? For pains sake? Suffer in silence. You're quest for pain is interfering with those of us who enjoy the journey.

Dippin' the Skinny!

Went for my first swim today. On the advice of another disc replacement patient, I picked up a pair of small 'fitness' flippers. They help me kick with less effort and make it easier to keep my hips elevated. I was extremely tentative as I dangled my legs over the edge, but I pushed off and quickly found my stroke. I felt pretty good for about the first 20 laps, then my low back started tightening up. I like round figures, so I kept going until I hit a half mile, or 36 laps. 

I stepped out of the pool slowly, a little uncertain and tight, but once I started walking I loosened up a bit. I think the unknown is the biggest hurdle to clear when doing something for the first time. But once you get past the fear the uncertainty is trumped by confidence. 

Ironically, my right shoulder hurts more than my back right now. After multiple separations and other assorted shoulder injuries it's basically hamburger meat. I'm sure I'll need surgery on this wing at some point, but that's a mountain to climb for another day.

Week 5 post op - Go Big or Go Home!

Marlene (my disc) and I marked week number 5 with a hike in the Santa Monica mountains with one of my oldest friends, and all around awesome individual, Julia, and her ageless pup Trudie. This was to be my first nature hike in a while, so I chose Murphy Ranch in Rustic Canyon above West Sunset Blvd. It's got some history, along with a wide network of trails to select from.

The Pacific!

We started out up a fire road that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. It's normally a fairly popular hike, but today we got lucky and didn't come across the crowds I'd read about. Once we'd ascended for a while we came across a narrow trail connector that lead down into a small valley.

Onward!

From here the trail splits, then splits again, and again. There seems to be an endless web of trails in this valley. I'm definitely coming back to explore again in the future when I'm strong enough to go all day. We continued down until we stumbled upon some dilapidated structures. This area served as an encampment for nazi sympathizers in the 30's. Then turned into an artist colony in the 60s and 70s, later a graffiti art hang out, and finally a place for inquisitive hikers to poke around.

Tag! You're it!

From here we simply backtracked and returned the way we came. But I always prefer the climb out.

Step it up!

As far as my back is concerned, it held up for the most part. Walking downhill definitely puts more pressure on my spine. Climbing is much easier. According to my pedometer we walked about 9k steps, so about 4+ miles, which seemed a little optimistic. But that was about my limit today, and I was pretty tight and sore by the time we got back to the car, but after stretching a little and resting I was feeling better than expected. My pain tolerance is pretty high, so sometimes it's difficult to objectively assess how I'm feeling, but the ride home in the car was relatively comfortable.

I stepped up my activity level this week and added some new exercises to help strengthen the area around my SI joints. I'm going for my first swim tomorrow. I might just dip my toes and run for the locker room like a child afraid of the deep end.

I've definitely made some improvements over this past week. My neck and upper back have been complaining, but my chiropractor reminded me of the connectedness of everything, so it's not surprising considering the alteration to my body mechanics. I'm moving much more naturally, and even found myself shuffling my feet in what can reasonably be referred to as dancing while listening to Kool Moe Dee on my iPhone..."I go to work!"

I still can't stand in place long and need to constantly shift my weight when talking with people, otherwise pressure builds up and things get uncomfortable. Sitting is still rough past 20 minutes, but I just get up and move around if dining out to keep loose. I've heard of some people who can stand and sit for hours right after surgery. I wish that were true in my case. I've got other issues going on besides my disc, and Dr. Bierstedt told me he felt most of my pain post surgery will be joint related, and I have a feeling he's right. But now that the disc is addressed I can begin working on strengthening the muscles and tissue around my joints and hopefully reverse this constant ache. 

Otherwise, I'm still moving forward and in the right direction!