Year of the Comeback

Hello friends!

First, I must apologize for the long absence. Sometimes when you're living life you lose track of time.

By the end of 2013 I could barely walk more than a few blocks without back seizures forcing me to the ground, literally. I often found myself daydreaming that while hobbling down some random street a Steinway would break free from its swinging cable three stories above and crush me like a cartoon character. I just wanted it to end.

By the end of 2014 I could hike up to 8 miles, albeit in a great deal of pain. The pain wasn't completely limiting me from moving, but it certainly made life far more difficult. The piercing pain I had experienced the year prior was replaced by a deep, and at times over-bearing pressure that, while not enough to make me reach for a gun, still weighed heavily on my spirit.

Today, the final day of 2015, I went for a spirited ride on my sexy-as-hell titanium Kona Honzo in the Santa Monica mountains and hit some sweet jumps! I was far from pain free, but I can ride. And that in and of itself is a massive victory.

I hit the much smaller jumps...

I started (really) riding the mountain bike in May. Now, when I say I rode my mountain bike, what I really mean is I rolled downhill like a snail on quaaludes, and pushed my bike uphill like an asthmatic sloth. Every ride was painful, and the hours after each ride were filled with anxiety about every little twinge and lightening strike down my back and left leg. But as the weeks and months passed things improved, and the mechanical and structural pain turned into muscle pain.

There was a total of 20 glacial months between bike rides. Twenty long, brutal months wondering if 1.) I would be able to ride again, and 2.) If I could manage to turn a crank, would I split in half. Those fears were quickly addressed and now, 7 months since hocking up my lungs at my first Wednesday Night Skeggs ride in over two years, on a good day I can handle 40 miles in the saddle with up to 5,000 feet of climbing. And I can even manage to keep some of my old shredder riding friends in sight on the descents. I'm far from pain free on rides. Riding is still a lesson in patience and my thresholds are tested with each passing mile. Right now in fact, my back is burning up a pretty good storm after today's ride. But I CAN ride. Physically I can turn a crank, stand and mash, bounce off rocks, and put this bit of titanium and polycarbonate wizardry in my spine through it's paces. And for that I'm grateful.

My year in numbers. I didn't start recording my rides until June, so for 6 months
these are respectable stats and more than I had hoped for.

2015 was my year of regaining some strength and finding a place physically where I felt the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't indeed the N Judah train bearing down on me. There are moments, not entire days, but delicious, blissfully serene moments where I'm almost pain free. No pressure, no tension, just a sense of what I think (and hope) most people feel as they walk through their days. And I plan to string together more of these moments until they form a complete day.

I've got another series of stem cell injections planned at the beginning of the year. But this time we're going all the way up my thoracic spine as well. No more playing games. It's go time. The stem cells worked wonders rebuilding the torn ligaments in my SI joints, so I'm hoping it can help with the cranky facets in my mid back.

At the start of the year I had certain hopes and goals, but wouldn't say out loud what most of them were. Over the summer I rode trails in Oregon and the Sierras, and covered hundreds of miles aboard the mighty Honzo in my backyard, AKA the Santa Cruz mountains, appreciating every drop of sweat that gleefully danced down my cheeks. Goals achieved. My hopes and goals for 2016 are bigger...but I'm keeping those a secret as well.

This time next year I hope to be reporting that I met or exceeding my goals for the year both physical and personal, and that pain is an even greater distant memory. And for those of you who have followed my journey, thank you for your time, and I wish you the best year imaginable.

Peace out my friends!

Halfway there

Celebrated yet another trip around the sun yesterday as I charge head first into middle age. As I enter my 46th year on this rock I can't help but reflect on that first half of my life. Let see....

There was the big bang (mom and dad's) that produced me, of course. Then a year later my Cuz was born and we were attached at the hip for the next ten years or so. Literally. We would squeeze into the same large jacket and pretend to be one person.

The rest is a blur. Lots of crashes, scrapes, broken bones, broken hearts, dirt bike adventures, that silly punk rock phase, college (high school was a wash), romantic adventures, dogs, marriage, divorce, hot days at the track in skin tight leathers, shacking up, more broken bones, mountain bike adventures, still more broken bones, and poof, here we are at 46.

In all honesty, I shouldn't be here. Walking the earth, that is. I've cheated the grim reaper more than a few times, and kicked him in the ass as I walked away. But not without some lasting and permanent scars. And now, with each pedal stroke, I smile and give thanks for every second moving forward.

Deschutes River

A couple weeks ago I road-tripped to Bend, Oregon to ride some of their legendary trails with friends. I managed about 65 miles over the course of two days, and drank some fine local brew to numb the post ride pain.

Since I started riding again one of my biggest fears has been crashing. I keep reminding myself that I can't afford to crash. So I've been riding overly cautious. Which I know is a recipe for disaster. When you ride too safe you ride tight. And mountain biking requires the pilot to be loose and relaxed. Unfortunately, my worst fear came true on day two, and on the most harmless section of trail. We had been clearing big rock gardens all day, yet while pedaling along on a flat, smooth section of single track I went flying over the bars after an innocent tree branch laying on the ground found it's way between my spokes locking up my front wheel and sending me into orbit.

I went down hard on my back, and every single doomsday scenario flooded my brain in an instant. I felt a twinge in my low back as I made contact, and thought for a brief moment that it was all over. I struggled to get up a first, but once the initial fear receded I stood, walked it off, and angrily grabbed my bike and continued on for another 20 miles. Sometimes riding angry is a good thing, because from that moment on I stopped riding to 'not crash', and simply rode my bike.

My back was cranky for a while after hitting the deck, but I managed to enjoy the rest of my trip, vowing one day to move to Bend, with Tiny Home in tow.

I knocked out over 100 miles on the mountain bike this past week, and have been averaging about 80 miles a week for the past couple months. Still hitting the pool, but down to 3-4 miles a week since pedaling is taking up more of my time.

I still experience a constant (annoying) pressure in my low back, and while some areas have improved, others, such as sitting on a stool or chair, haven't changed much. Some days are better than others, but when my legs hurt more on a ride than my back, I can't complain too much.

I hope you're all doing well, and keep the rubber side down!

Peace!

A Change is Gonna Come

"There been times that I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will"


Hello my friends! It's been far too long, so I should probably catch everyone up.

How am I doing? 

Chilling at 9k feet!

Answer your question?

OK, overall, I'm better. Much better. But it all depends on the activity. I can bang out a few hours in the saddle in the mountains while enduring moderate but manageable pain. But 30 minutes of sitting still on a barstool and I'm ready to jump off a bridge. Why, you ask? Wish I could tell you. The easiest things are the hardest things. People have a hard time believing me when I tell them I can't sit down for dinner for more than an hour, but I can jump on my bike and hammer the 15 miles home with far less physical drama.

I spent the weekend in Tahoe recently with friends riding, drinking, eating, riding some more. Yet the drive up was more painful (far more painful) than the long afternoon climbing and descending over rocks and roots. Seems my body prefers to be in motion.

Swimmer's back!

I'm still getting in some quality miles in the pool each week, but since I can now pedal I'm down to 3 days a week as a fish. Swimming under the warm summer Santa Cruz sun is nice, but nothing beats the trails in the surrounding mountains. So the bike generally wins out when it's time to elevate the heart rate.

At the office

Work has been keeping me busier than I'd like. And by busy I mean more than 4 hours a day. But I can't complain too much as I get to work on a couch at my local coffee place. Freelancing has it's perks and I get to make my own hours. Friends say I'm spoiled, and I'd have to agree. A recently had to spend two hours in a client meeting and it was 1 hour and 59 minutes too long in an office! Don't think I can ever go back to a 9 to 5. I'd rather starve than sit in a cube.

My new girlfriend

Cuzzins

I'm so tempted to say I'm officially turning the corner. But if you recall, when I've said I thought I was starting to take a turn for the better I got smacked down a day or two later. So rather than say I'm FINALLY on solid ground, I'll just say I'm looking forward to some big rides on the mountain bike in the coming weeks and months with friends.

Gio on his new ride!

I'm creeping up on my 18 month anniversary, and while it's been a much longer recovery than I had anticipated, I constantly remind myself that 18 months ago I could barely manage four blocks on foot without severe pain stopping me in my tracks. And today I'm putting down 60-80 hard miles a week on the mountain bike. Far from pain free, but so far from where I've been.

Peace out from the mountains, my friends! I hope you're well.

- I

Tiny Livin'

On the move again. Had to vacate my last tiny house due to PLA (Psycho Landlord Affliction). Fortunately I landed an even better tiny house in a sweet little neighborhood at the foot of Henry Cowell Redwood state park. The property is in the shadows of the redwoods with green stuff sprouting all over the place.

The latest tiny abode

Wall art

It's a mini wild animal kingdom with cats, dogs, chickens, roosters and all the creepy crawlers roaming at night. Peanut the wonder cat is slowly adjusting. He ruled his old stomping grounds with an iron paw, but has been getting his ass handed to him by the local muscle and is trying to find his groove.

Just caaaaall for Super Chicken (puk ack!)

The kicker is that my new landlord also builds tiny houses! He actually builds them in the driveway of his home which is also on the property, although he's currently looking for a massive piece of real estate to build his tiny home empire. He's got more tiny buyers than he can shake a tiny stick at.

Waiting on it's new owner

While my last place was pretty close to trails, I can practically jump out my loft window and hit the trail running at the new crib.

Shredders!

Oh, how's the back doing, you say? Meh, it's a mixed bag. But that's for another conversation. Till then...

Peace out!

Pedalin' to town

Hey kids! So, it's still been peaks and valleys lately. But I'm back on the bike and logging some fun miles each week. I'm far from pain free while on the bike (or off it for that matter), but I can physically ride, which is a far cry from just a few months ago.

I live about a 6 mile drive from town (Santa Cruz) in a smaller town in the Santa Cruz mountains, and it's been torture having to actually drive. Torture because I hate driving. Cars suck, bikes rule, end of story. So any time I've got an appointment or just feel like grabbing a taco at world famous Tacos Moreno in SC, I pedal when I can. It's a bit longer by bike (a good thing), and far more enjoyable, and I can avoid asphalt for all but maybe a quarter mile. So today I had a 1 on 1 appointment with my yoga instructor and felt the itch to ride. I decided to document my little trip on my iPhone 3. Yes, it's a 7 year old iPhone, so get over it. How many phones have you broken in the past 7 years? It simply will not die! So when (if) it finally does kick the bucket I might upgrade to an iPhone 4. 

It's a bit herky jerky in parts and smooth in others. If you feel like a seizure is coming on feel free to skip to the 3:30 mark where it gets all buttery smooth.

Enjoy! I know I did!

1 year, 8 months, 0 days, and 2 hours...

Give or take an hour or two.

That's how long it's been since I got dirty.

I took the MotoX out to the Emma McCrary trail that connects downtown Santa Cruz to the vast network of trails behind UCSC. The trail isn't particularly difficult, perfect for beginners actually. But it's a fun, flowy trail with lots of small elevation changes and banked turns. It's about 2 miles long...two glorious miles of choice Santa Cruz soil surrounded by the redwoods. I never thought two miles could feel so joyous.

Gettin' Dirty!

Ain't no thing but a chicken wing

Greetings my loyal followers!

Things have been a little cray cray lately as far as my work schedule goes and I haven't had a moment to really put into words how things are going one year removed from surgery. So my apologies for leaving you hanging.

Overall...I'm doing OK. Still not satisfied, but if you've been reading my blog you have discovered that satisfaction is an elusive beast that I'll never tame. But let's look back before we move forward.

In January of 2014 I was basically immobile. I could move around, but not without that, 'One false move' sensation that followed me everywhere, threatening to bring me to my knees. While I've lived with constant back pain for my entire adult life, it wasn't until the beginning of 2013 that the real tremors started. 

One day at work while playing ping pong (the perks of working in tech), I bent over to pick up a ball and experienced a twinge that stopped me in my tracks momentarily. I took a quick breath, pushed through the sudden electrical charge that nearly brought me to the floor, stood up, and acted like nothing happened. Of course we continued our game and of course I crushed my opponent. I mean, I was Boy's Club champion as a young table tennis gun slinger. You never lose it.

I look back at 2013 as the beginning of the end. There were numerous warnings, each falling on deaf ears. As I have for my entire life, I convinced myself that nothing was seriously wrong. It took 43 years, but I finally came to the brutal realization of what it means to truly listen to your body. Unfortunately, it took a paralyzing moment that is imprinted in my memory with the force of a mule kick to bring me to this realization.

While out riding with some friends on July 21, 2013, my back finally said, 'No mas'. While chasing my friend, Paule, I experienced what I've previously referred to as the sensation of a cheap velcro wallet being torn open. Every last breath of air in my lungs rushed out like stampeding bison and fire dripped down my left leg as I collapsed to the ground like a rag doll tossed by a child through the window of a speeding car.

This is when everything began to unravel - joint by joint, vertebrae by vertebrae, disc by disc. Every injury, every fall, every high speed crash, every ill advised risk, eventually came knocking on my front door for back pay on a lifetime of tempting fate. 

Last week I celebrated my one year anniversary with Marlene. And I've been thinking about the past year and a half and trying to be honest with myself about the actions that led to surgery and the choices I've made since. My doctor advised me to let pain be my guide. I've heard this phrase countless times, but telling a person who hasn't lived a day without pain for over 20 years to use pain as a guide is like telling a junkie to use the DT's as a guide for withdrawal. So I did what I've always done, and I can now admit that I pushed way too hard after surgery.

I was told not to bend at the waist for 3 months. Three weeks after surgery I was trying to get into downward dog. Five weeks after surgery I was out hiking on trails. And eight weeks after surgery I was laying flat on my back after a series of mind numbing spasms. So much for well laid plans.

I've had a number of set backs throughout my recovery, and I've dealt with depression on a level I've never experienced. And while I forced myself to keep moving forward I've allowed myself to be depressed, knowing it, like everything else in life, is temporary. 

Now this is going to sound like foolish superstition, but every time I said I'm feeling better, I would feel like crap for the next few days. Coincidence? All in my head? Who knows. But like clockwork, within a day or two of claiming to feel good I'd get smacked in the face with a double dose of pain that sidelined me for a few days and got my brain all kinds of scrambled.

So instead of glowing about my progress, I'll just state in matter of fact terms where I'm at.

A couple weeks ago I pedaled a bike for the first time in 19 months. My back was cranky, but my head exploded with happiness. I don't think I stopped smiling the entire ride. Since then I've ridden several times, including a 15 mile ride yesterday in glorious rain, with a decent amount of climbing. I was tight, and my SI joints were tingling when I got home, but after a good stretch, and some light TRX exercises, I felt well enough to join some friends at a party afterwards where pain wasn't the first thing on my mind.

I'm also able to push as hard as I want and for as long as I want in the pool. I usually last about 45 minutes before I start to get bored, but rather than focus on length of workouts, I simply focus on movement without worrying about distance.

My TRX workouts are evolving and I'm incorporating more and new exercises to help expand my range of motion and strength. I've also started one on one yoga instruction with a wonderful instructor that is reintroducing me to yoga in a safe and positive setting.

I'm essentially living my day to day life with a sense of normalcy that has been out of reach for the past year and a half. But where I notice the changes most are in simple movements we all take for granted. Before surgery, when I wanted something form the fridge I would need to get down on one knee before pulling out a carton of almond milk. If I wanted to turn over in bed I would need to focus carefully on how I rolled over, taking special care not to twist my torso. Even stepping off a curb presented challenges that I no longer worry about. My body wants to move more naturally now, and I don't need to first think about how I move, before I move. And for this I'm grateful.

While I'm not preparing to run a marathon, I don't hesitate before running up a flight of stairs or bending over to grab the cat. There is still that ever-present pressure at the base of my spine, but it's not as daunting as it's been in the past. It's not preventing me from enjoying my life, but it's still there, lingering, letting me know we're still not done. But if I have to be truly honest about my progress, I've made massive strides in the past year compared to where I was at the beginning of 2014.. But there's still a mountain of progress to me made.

I credit the stem cell injections with really kick starting things a few months ago, and I'm scheduled for another round of injections next month to pile on the healing even more. 

Time is healing. And time ain't no thing but a chicken wing. 

Peace!

In the immortal words of Tony! Toni! Toné!

It Feels Good!

Happy Birthday, Marlene

One year ago today we took out first step. And we're still stepping forward.

I rode a bike today...

And I liked it.

OK, before I say anything, yes, it probably wasn't a good idea to jump on the bike and start attacking hills so soon. And yes, I will pay dearly over the next few days. And yes, I knew it would hurt and have no one to blame but myself. But like a very wise man once said, "Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk."

It wasn't very long, maybe 8-9 miles, but it wasn't flat either. There were far more hills than I should have attempted right out of the gate. Steep, punchy hills that required me to stand up and mash. Surprisingly, my legs and lungs felt ok. But my back protested fiercely.

The real pain seems to settle in after I exercise, but once my body warms up the pain is bearable during the activity.  So based on recent patterns I expect some serious fire over the next couple days.

But was it worth it? $%#@&% yeah it was! The depths of depression I've been slogging through have been suffocating at times. So for a brief moment today my brain felt nothing but joy. And that should carry my for a while.

Bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes!

Peace out my friends!

I want candy!

Like most healthy teenage boys in the 80's I had a massive crush on Annabella, lead singer for Bow Wow Wow.  How does Annabella figure into my first post in over a month, you say? 

The other day I was pedaling furiously on the stationary bike at the ocean-view gym on the UCSC campus, rocking out to the 80's medley on my iPhone 3 that just refuses to die. I have a tendency to bounce around when listening to music, tap the bars, even belt out a chorus or two. If you know the song, the intro to 'I Want Candy' has a distinctive percussion sound that commands you to keep the beat.

While pedaling along to Annabella gyrating on the beach in my mind, a young student on the bike next to me waved his hand to get my attention. I removed my earbud and asked if there was a problem. He very politely and almost innocently asked me what I was listening to. I mentioned the song, which he'd clearly never heard of before. He was 18, 19 tops. 

Something about him struck me as genuine. He wasn't a smart ass kid messing with the middle aged guy at the college gym. He was just a nice, goofy kid trying to make conversation. Then he made a strange and confusing request. "You wanna switch?" he asked. I thought he meant the bikes, so I asked if his bike was broken. And he responded, "No, you wanna switch music?"

Normally I'd laugh off a request like this and keep on pedaling, but as far from left field as this kid came, he was oddly sincere. So I thought, what the hell. I handed over my iPhone 3 and he gave me his new fangled Android device, replete with contemporary rap and pop music. His choice in music seemed to represent the listening habits of the modern day teen, much like my vast collection of Dexy's Midnight Runners, Soft Cell and the Gap Band represented my teenage years.

With every song, this kid held up my phone and would either say, "This is a cool song!" or "I totally know this one!" He seemed excited to hear so many new-to-him songs, like he was discovering some dust covered records buried deep on a shelf in an old music store.

After around 20 minutes he jumped off his bike and we exchanged phones again. He simply said thanks, and scooted away. A strange, yet pure moment. 

Oh yeah, how am I doing? Pretty fucking decent. Still improving inch by inch and slowly getting my swag back. I just got back from a week in Amsterdam, and the flight out and back, while a bit unpleasant at times, wasn't a complete torture session. And as I progress on the stationary bike, it's looking like my goal of being on the road by spring is looking very optimistic.

To optimism, my friends!

Got tissue?

Three months ago I underwent a round of stem cell injections into my sacroiliac (SI) joints. If you've been following my blog you will recall I've also had a lifelong SI joint problem. It all came to a head about 18 months ago when I completely tore the joints while riding my bike.

Anyhoo, in the fall of 2013 I endured a series of platelet rich plasma (PRP) injections that didn't result in any improvements. This eventually led to my more serious quest towards surgery. When I first met with my Prolotherapy Doc she performed an ultrasound on my SI joints and literally gasped when she saw the images on her screen. "Oh my god!", she said. Apparently she had never seen an SI joint so severely damaged. A lifetime of crashing will evidently do a tap dance on your body.  Who knew.

Fast forward to Fall 2014 and my recovery from surgery wasn't improving at a rate I was satisfied with, so I contacted Dr. Alderman again and spoke with her about stem cell treatments. She explained that in some cases tissue can be completely devoid of cells, caused by repeated trauma where the body no longer sends healthy cells to repair a damaged area. Which explains why the PRP injections didn't help. PRP attaches itself to tissue only when there are cells present.

So she suggested we try stem cells, which is far more expensive, a bit more painful, but almost always more successful. Yesterday I met with Dr. Alderman to follow up and see how my SI joint was progressing. After checking out my joints under ultrasound she gasped again! But this time she was greeting with a much more pleasant looking image. In her own words, "You actually have tissue in your joints again."

I must admit, the before and after images from my ultrasound are pretty shocking. After being told what to look for, it was pretty clear that there was significant regrowth of tissue in my SI joint. She told me it usually takes a few months before patients start feeling real changes, and I'm right at three months. I've been slowly improving, and she said I will continue to improve over the next year. So hopefully 2015 will be the year of healing!

I'm still tight most of the time, and with the exception of this $#@!&%$ cough that's got my back tied in knots, my body is beginning to feel normal. I'd say it's feeling normal again, but I haven't been pain free in 25 years, so I'm feeling out this whole normal thing for the first time.

New disc, new joints. Two down, (fill in the blank) to go.

Peace out!