Moderation and I are not close friends. Maybe familiar acquaintances, at best. I'd have to think a minute to give you an actual example of how I've exercised moderation in the past, particularly with outdoor activities.
Oh, it's winter and I haven't biked in months? Sure, I'll plan a bike tour and cycle 60 miles a day. That mountain? Yeah, let's go hike that and then just squeeze in two more just because we can. I've biked 100 miles, should I do 150 now? Maybe I'll go for 200. Better yet, maybe I'll do 200 while biking for 24 hours straight (this attempt failed).
I will never not love this comic about Type A vs Type B people, clearly written about me and any outdoor goals I have. After all, my favorite kind of fun is the Type II kind.
There's no doubt that I've put my muscles and joints through hell and back, only stopping to take acetaminophen so that I could keep going. I've gotten so used to treating my body like this thing I just wield to do whatever I want, assuming that it will never limit me (everyone over the age of 25, let's all laugh together). I get fixated on a goal I need to achieve, sometimes at the expense of my physical health.
Enter: the injury.
There were visible hearts in my eyes as I wrote a check for my new Salsa bike. The big wheels and wide fork meant one thing: off-roading! After my rocky and snowy D.C. to Pittsburgh tour on my skinny road tires, I needed the upgrade. I couldn't be terrrain-limited any more. I'm a little bit of a route purist, and skipping sections that were un-bikeable definitely rubbed me the wrong way. Am I cheating? Everyone will know that I didn't complete the whole route! What an imposter!
After my new, shiny purchase, I happily switched out the clunky, lime green, cheapo-plastic pedals for my clips. I admired the metallic pea-colored bicycle with earthy brown handlebar tape and chunky wheels that would take me oh-so-many places. Verde is her name, I decided. Salsa Verde.
I didn't get a bike fit, but I was pretty sure the seat and cleat positions were working for me. But, after a few days of riding, it happened.
It was the familiar twinge that comes from a very upset left kneecap, something I first felt in high school cross country. Always in running but never in biking. I played it off at first, continuing to ride, hoping it would just...y'know...go away. Well, it didn't. It's been *a week*, and there has been no sign of it easing up.
Of course, my brain begins catastrophizing. What if my biking career is over? What if I need physical therapy for 6 months? What if I can't do my big bike tour this coming summer?
I immediately began figuring out the fastest way to fix this inconvenient hunk of meat and bones of mine (read: body) that should function how I want it. The audacity! This meant stretching multiple times a day, doing leg strengthening exercises with bands, applying tiger balm (which I'm pretty sure won't do anything here, but it can't hurt so), Googling anti-inflammatory foods to eat, watching YouTube videos ("Biker's knee is super common! Just do these five things, and you'll be back on the bike before you know it"), living with an ice pack on my knee, and sometimes hopping in the gym's hot tub, hoping that the heat will work if the ice won't. Basically, everything but whispering sweet-nothings and asking it nicely to just heal itself ASAP. Though, that's coming soon.
I guess it was only a matter of time before this happened. Regardless, it's mentally and physically challenging to know that this is the period when I need to be training. I can't be wasting time RECOVERING. I need to be getting used to my new bike. I need to be strengthening for my 1-month bike tour, lest I be the weakest link holding by group back.
This has been an incredible test of patience, a thing that I bundle with moderation in a drawer I never open. In addition to patience, it has really been an exercise in kindness. Kindness in that I need to appreciate all that my body has done for me up to this point and that I need to treat it tenderly. Kindness in performing self-care through rest and yoga and understanding that some days that's all I'll be able to do. Kindness in doing routine strength and stretching to avoid injuries in the first place.
I don't know how long it will take before my knee lets me get back on the bike. I'll just have to wait and let the healing process work itself out, all while being gentle to myself in that process. I am a human not a robot.
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