An Uncertain Future

Maybe my body wasn’t made to do what I want it to do. Or maybe I’ve just damaged it too much. I’m old enough now to have had injuries from 20 years ago compound and sprout their own new injuries layered on top. Eventually they became too numerous to continue.

There are some things about my body that I probably never could change. I never did sleep that well, or want to go to bed on time. Almost all of my joints are hypermobile. I managed reasonable posture until I went back to school, when my shoulders rounded so bad in front of a computer that I exacerbated a probably dormant thoracic outlet syndrome.

Other things were clearly self-inflicted. I smoked two packs a day from when I was 14 until almost 25. I leaned into my poor impulse control and abused drugs and alcohol for many years as a teenager and adult. When I struggle with my sinuses today and their effect on my sleep, I sometimes wonder if it would have been different had I been easier on my respiratory system.

I ran and climbed trees as a kid. With no training to speak of, I regularly ran low 6 minute miles until I started smoking, after which I didn’t run again for many years. My parents tried to enroll me in some team sports as a child, but I showed little interest, and in North Carolina and DC where I grew up rock climbing was a fringe activity.

I never met anyone that rock climbed until 2017 and only a few rich kids in DC were on the ski club. I did skateboard though, for almost 8 years. I learned a lot from it and loved it, but I further traumatized my body. I would find almost 15 years later that my severe ankle sprains acquired from skateboarding were the reason my ankles rolled so easily.

In my mid 20s and in the midst of major life upheaval, I suddenly quit smoking. It caused a chain reaction in my life: I started running again, tried to eat better, and began searching for a way into a new career. I found a new love for the outdoors, at first through hiking and backpacking as I moved to Texas. I spent many nights in Big Bend National Park, deep in the middle of nowhere soaking in some of the quietest moments that could exist. I started seeking out and summiting peaks on foot, driving many hours to reach the mountains to the west.

Around the age of 28 someone took me to a climbing gym and I fell in love immediately. I soon realized that people would not just hike to the top of mountains, but they would rock climb and ice climb to get there. I became immersed and obsessed. I finished school in Austin and as soon as I could afford it, I moved to Salt Lake to be closer to the mountains. I learned to ski and ice climb, and could not get enough. All I wanted to do was be outside.

I piled up injuries, and uncovered and worked on old ones. Sometimes I was winning the battle, but I eventually lost the war. My obsession won every time. I developed chronic sleep issues in Salt Lake, compounding my ability to recover. Many days the only thing that gave me any energy was to exercise more. I scaled back, tried to take more rest days, worked with PTs, and went through a couple orthopedic surgeries (those hypermobile joints are not to be messed with).

To be fair, I did acquire and overcome a number of injuries: meniscus tears, repairing that torn ankle sprain, a nasty Morton’s neuroma, gluteal tendinopathy, achilles tendonitis (on both sides at different times), medial epicondylitis (aka Tennis elbow), and so on, etc. Then I tore my labrum in my hip. My sleep was still garbage, and I had recently had a good trial run with a few weeks at sea level where it was humid and my sleep was massively better. We decided to sell our house, and that my 4 year long excursion in Salt Lake was over for now.

I am still recovering from the surgery from that labrum repair. The original injury was almost a year ago now. I would like to think that I am here at sea level to unwind my remaining injuries and recover from years of sleep apnea and nervous system damage. My impatience struggles. Uncertainly flares up. I think I’ll be able to manage the same load of climbing and running again one day. But then some days I think I’m too old.

So far, every time I’ve thought that about myself I’ve looked back and thought what an idiot I was to think such a thing. Hopefully I’ll do the same again.

I’ve had some struggles here the past few months. I’ve had to cancel plans because I was crashed out by mid afternoon, just waiting for the sun to go down so I could try to sleep again. But I’ve been much better overall. I’ve had days where I felt alive again. I had days where I had energy. Like the boundless energy of my youth, like before I was in Salt Lake. Those days are giving me hope.

I think I can learn. I think I can learn to be patient, and to work with the limits of my body. I’d like to think I was just getting started with the outdoors.