ACL Rehab: Five Weeks Later

After the two week mark, things got progressively better. I went back to work three weeks after surgery and was glad I didn't try to go back any earlier. It's really difficult and frustrating to teach and coach on crutches. I was wiped out after the first couple of days, but it got better after that. The hardest part at this point is trying to balance my time. I go to physical therapy 3 times a week for 1 1/2 to 2 hours a shot. I have to do this during my planning period ( at the end of the day). Then go back and coach. Then go home and work in two more 30 minute workouts. And do all the work I didn't get done because I have no planning period. I am very lucky to have great students and another coach who has been filling in for me without complaint. Plus Tony who has taken excellent care of me.

My physical therapy has progressed steadily, adding more weight and reps, plus adding in some machine work. The hamstring curls are especially painful, but are getting better. Right at the four week mark, my PT measured me and I could bend my leg to 131 degrees and could flatten it to 0 degrees. My quad strength was 54% of the good one and most of the swelling was gone. The next day, the surgeon let me lose the crutches and my life improved instantly. My leg was a little shaky the first couple of days, but now feels pretty normal. We added in leg presses and balance boards to my PT, along with time on a stair climber.

Three days after I got off crutches, Tony took me up to Standing Indian for a walk on the only flat trail I know of. The leaves were changing nicely and it wasn't quite as important to be out there running as it was just being out there. I sure have missed that. I eeked out a painstakingly slow mile, but it was one of the best miles I have ever done.

Now, five weeks after surgery, I feel pretty good. I have a quad muscle again that keeps getting bigger. Yesterday, Tony and I went for a three mile walk on a forest road near the house and the knee felt pretty good. It will be awhile before I can run again, but I am very thankful that I can at least get outside.

And my PT thinks Old Dominion 100 2012 should be no problem for me.

The picture is yet another one of my random pretty pictures.

Two Weeks Down

Lessons learned from the first two weeks after ACL surgery:

1. The pain was not a problem. The only time I had anything intense was when I first woke up from surgery but the nurse made that go away. Sleeping in the brace was an annoying type of pain, but I don't have to do that anymore. What I didn't expect was the depth of the fatigue. During the first week, just getting to the kitchen wiped me out more than any ultra. No exaggeration.

2. My quad disappeared. I expected it to shrink, but not this much and this rapidly. I have a lot of excess strap on the brace they made for me before surgery.

3. Wal-Mart is not the best place to test-drive crutches.

4. Having strong legs and doing the pre-hab exercises make rehab easier. Five days after surgery, I was able to do sixty leg lifts. Today my workout, 3 times a day is: 8 x 10 front leg lifts with ankle weight, 3x10 side and back leg lifts, 50 quad sets, 30 seated leg raises, plus stretches. Plus I am on a stationary bike.

5. I am feeling better every day. Unfortunately, I feel like doing some things, so I get frustrated frequently and sometimes I forget that I have an injured leg. Fortunately, I have Tony to both spoil me and keep me in check. Plus I only have two more weeks on crutches and I can now wear my little custom brace rather than the gigantic one.

6. My attitude and outlook is a lot better than it was before surgery. Before I had a lot of apprehension, stress and a lot to consider. Now that I've had the surgery, there are no decisions to make. I do what I am told to do and there's nothing I can do besides that to make my leg heal any faster. It's more relaxing to resign yourself to simply follow directions.

The photo is just one of my random pretty pictures.

Welcome to Rehab

As I laid in pre-op Friday morning, watching the nurses and doctors hook wires, tubes and equipment to me, I thought to myself, "Really? It wasn't even that a good of a fall." Now, I've done some things that should have landed me here and I would have completely understood. And it would have made for a lot better blog post. How about bad mountain bike wrecks (like the time I toppled over the edge of a bank, tangled in my mountain bike and hitting a branch that gouged my back but caught the back of my sports bra stopping the fall)? What about stage two hypothermia or close encounters with copperheads, rattlers, and scary people in the middle of the wilderness? Or one of my more exciting scar-inducing falls or many really stupid decisions (like, I think I can crawl across the ice without sliding off the edge, because I'm miles in the middle of nowhere and if the fall doesn't kill me, the cold will)? But frisbee at cross country practice, really? I didn't even get to get carried off on a stretcher with thousands of adoring fans cheering me on. Sigh.

Anyway, my little blog will now document my adventures as an ultrarunner in rehab. It's pretty exciting. Today I get to take a shower. I actually shed a tear or two this afternoon because I could turn the pedals of the stationary bike one rotation. Hmm...okay, so maybe I won't spend a lot of time on the details, but I will pass along helpful hints and revelations from time to time because it seems like everyone expected me to understand what was going on. It's kind of scary when you don't know what to expect. So here is what I've learned thus far.

1. First, I need to vent. I've done this myself, and I know everyone meant well, but please never, ever, say to anyone, "It could be worse." Don't you think I know that? Yes, I could have lost my leg, my life, or someone I love. But that doesn't mean that losing something I love (running) for 6-9 months is not hard on me. I don't whine or complain, so please just say, "I understand." Let me cry a little about this without trying to make me feel guilty for being relatively lucky. Okay, I'm over that now.

2. Crutches. If you have the opportunity to try them out before you are in pain, weak, and on drugs, do it. There is definitely a learning curve. Especially if there are stairs involved. More upper body strength and more single leg squats would have helped, too. Expect major frustration.

3. I had general anesthesia and a femoral artery block. I felt like crap the first day and a half. By the end of day 2 of post-op, boredom set in. I don't think I've been this stationary for this long in years. I'm not sure what I am supposed to do with myself. Most all of my hobbies involve my legs. I should try to be a little more well-rounded.

4. I have to approach this like a 24 hour race. I can't think about all the time and miles I have left or I'll make myself crazy. I also can't think about how good I felt beforehand or it will take the fun out of celebrating little milestones, like being able to bend my leg 90 degrees today.

5. The week before surgery was weird. I had two legs that worked more or less. I was still running, even on trail, albeit cautiously. I knew that Friday morning everything would change for several months. I have no advice about dealing with that. It was just kind of difficult.

6. Say goodbye to being independent and self sufficient. Say hello to more frustration. Exactly how do you carry a glass of water on crutches? Hope you have an understanding and patient spouse who only cusses at trying to set the monstrous brace to zero.

So thus begins another ultra-journey. I'm bound to take some good out of this experience, right? In the meantime, crutch races, anyone?

Did You Hear the Pop?

It was a pretty normal plan. To give the girls a break from running during Cross Country practice, on July 11th at 3:30 pm, I decided we would play Ultimate Frisbee. I went down on the second play of the game, catching the frisbee in the end zone. Except I hit a little hole and I went down on my knees. Ouch, that twanged something. I stretched it out some, limped along, and tried to keep playing, but my knee wasn't supporting me when I tried to lean out or jump. After I got everyone home, I went home and began the RICE protocol. The knee was swollen and although I tried to tell Tony I just "twanged" something, he was sure I had done more than "twanged" it. I RICE'ed all week, then went to a weeklong workshop in NJ/NY, where I did a lot of walking on it, but wore a knee brace. By the end of the week I was walking fairly normally, but could not run. I emailed the RD of Running with the Devil to withdraw from the race that Saturday.

When I got back, I reluctantly went to the doctor, who ordered X-rays and an MRI. "Surely I would know if something was really wrong, wouldn't I? Do I really need X-rays and an MRI?", I asked. She got a really good laugh out of that one. For some reason, she thinks I have a really high pain tolerance and, no, I wouldn't know if anything was really wrong. So off to X-rays, first. All clear there. Then off to MRI. The doctor called a couple days later. "I have bad news," she said. "You completely tore your ACL and partially tore your meniscus." After I hung up, I called her right back, because neither of us had thought it was the ACL. "Are you sure? Did you read it?" She was sure. A visit to the surgeon confirmed it. "Did you hear the pop?" he asked. No, I didn't hear a stinkin' pop. After thousands of miles of trail running, my knee goes out playing frisbee. And apparently, the ACL is the worst of the knee injuries. Six to nine months of no running after surgery.

I was actually running a little on it before I found out it was the ACL and before both the surgeon and physical therapist showed me how they were able to move my knee around in ways that it's not supposed to move. I've been fitted for a brace and the surgeon said I could run my upcoming races in it, if it didn't wear my skin off and I could choose when to have the surgery. But he said no trail running. And the longer I put off surgery, the longer it is before I can run again, and the longer I walk around a unhappy camper. I know, it could be a whole lot worse. And I'm sure it happened for some reason. But that doesn't make it any easier to lose doing something I love.

So, I've done the math and although I'll miss my favorite time of year to run in the woods, fall and winter, I should be able to hit the trail in spring again. And maybe by then, I'll actually have pretty feet with all ten toenails for the first time in eight years.

Chattooga 50K

When I think about the foothills of South Carolina, I think about Claude Sinclair's Laurel Valley run held every year in August. To be honest, I really don't like running Laurel Valley all that much, but I keep coming back year after year because it's a tradition. But it's also South Carolina in the summer, which means it's hot and dripping with humidity, with the added benefits of abundant poison ivy, copperheads, yellow jackets and biting flies. Plus, the section of Foothills Trail that it follows is tough, with plenty of technical trail and annoying little climbs and descents that wear you down. No, during the summer I stick to the mountains, running the ridgelines along the AT.

In the days before the Chattooga 50K, I pondered why, despite my knowledge of both South Carolina in the summer and the Foothills Trail, did I sign up for this run? My best answer is that the combination of dehydration and lack of oxygen inherent in ultrarunning has damaged key brain cells. I was very unenthusiastic about heading out to this run, but it is a Terri Hayes race and I do think a lot of Terri Hayes and her runs. Plus, it's a little over an hour from the house and I didn't have any plans for this weekend. Great day for a training run. Which is good, because I feel like I haven't had any time to do any training since I have run a race every three weeks now and I am constantly recovering.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm, I collected Alan and headed down the mountain. The race location was ideal, in a campground with nice restrooms and showers adjacent. The check in was efficient and well organized and you got a nice little goody bag, which was especially nice for the price of entry (Terri doesn't charge one, just accepts donations). Lots of familiar faces again, another family reunion, which kinda makes up for the fact I was about to run in South Carolina in the summer again.

The Pre-Race Briefing

I had read the course directions and looked at the maps that Terri had on her website and this course seemed a little tricky. I had also read race reports where people had gotten off course, so I paid close attention to her directions. I was still a little fuzzy, but did remember her saying, "turn around at the first wooden bridge," an important bit of info later on. Once the race began, the directions made good sense and I took time at the intersections to remember which way I had to turn on the way back.

Part I: Start to Aid Station 1 (7 miles)

The first three miles were fun. A nice gradual downhill on single track, very runnable with very little effort. Just lean forward and gravity does all the work. I was enjoying this section until I remembered that this section was an out and back, which meant that all this nice downhill would shortly turn into uphill. As I began to run back up, it turned out that the uphill wasn't as steep as I perceived it, but all those runners, heading both downhill and uphill had really stirred up the leaves and dust. My asthma cranked up and I couldn't settle my breathing down. It's funny what a lack of oxygen does to you (despite killing brain cells). Your legs feel heavy, you have no energy and worst of all, no clue how you are going to finish a tough 50K when you feel this bad three miles into it. Disregarding doctor's orders not to use my inhaler too much, I inhaled and felt better. Soon I was back to plugging along steadily uphill. Back at the top of the hill, you made a leftie and within a half mile, you were at the first aid station.

A word on aid stations

As I mentioned, Terri does not charge an entry fee, but you could not tell it from the aid stations. The table is covered with food, everything from gels and e-caps to homemade banana bread. The volunteers are extremely helpful, filling up bottles or bladders with ICE cold water or Heed. I savored that cold water as at the day grew hotter. Unfortunately, there was a long 10 mile stretch ahead before the next aid.

The Foothills Trail Section from Hell

After the aid station, you followed a 3 mile nicely rolling trail to the Foothills Trail. I really wasn't sure what part of the FHT the course was on and was not at all pleased to find that it was the Bermuda Triangle section. This was the section during the FHT Traverse where the miles you had put in seemed to disappear because you never, ever got to the end. This is the section during the Traverse where every time the trail turned away from the river, I knew I was approaching the road, from where I would only have 6 miles left. Cruelly, the trail twisted and turned and kept going back to the darn river. This is the section where I was getting ready to sit down in the middle of the trail and cry, when Tony suddenly appeared just at the right moment, having hiked in to where I was. This part of the trail brought back some bad memories.

I was lucky to have done the Traverse because, unlike the other runners around me who kept thinking we were coming up on the aid station, I knew that it was nowhere close and not to ever count on reaching it. When and if you did reach it, it would be a nice surprise. So I just kept moving forward, not expecting to get to the aid station, but being very glad I did just as my water ran out.

Turn around at the first bridge

The next section was a two mile out and back and the landmark to look for to turnaround at was the first wooden bridge. Or so I thought. I had run 17 miles in the heat and humidity. Is that really what she said? After I got to the bridge and headed back up the hill, a fast runner came up behind me. He thought the turnaround was the second bridge. Great, I thought, I was wrong. So I headed back down to the bridge, only to verify with other runners that the first bridge was indeed the turnaround. Excellent, a little extra credit mileage.

Repeat

Now comes the "back" part of the out and back. All the nice downhills were now long uphills. Just like before, I didn't think about where the next aid station was, I just kept moving forward. I felt pretty good, although I felt slow and like I had not yet recovered from my other runs. No stomach issues, though. Terri had told me to try Prilosec or Nexium before I ran and I did. I stuck to gels and banana bread and a flask of pickle juice in the heat of the day and it all seemed to do the trick. Four SportConnexin per hour in the hottest part of the day, a couple of ibuprofen in the middle of the run when I started to get achy, and it was all good.

The End

When I had looked at times from the previous races, I thought that if I could get under 8 hours, I would be very happy, and I finished in 7:44. Best of all, my stomach felt great and I quickly downed an excellent BBQ sandwich and two glasses of sweet tea.

In retrospect, South Carolina wasn't all that horrible. I heard more than one person comment though that this race was much harder than they expected, and I guess it was harder than most 50Ks. It was very technical, with more roots than rocks, and I think people underestimated how long the unsupported ten mile stretch would take. On the bright side, it was not as hot as Black Mountain and had more shade. I didn't get stung by yellow jackets or see any copperheads, but I did run through A LOT of poison ivy.

When I asked Alan if he would run it again, he said he would. I, however, will wait to see how bad I am itching in a couple days before I even think about it.

Congratulations Daniel!

Five years ago, Daniel Hamilton and I were hanging from the edge of a cliff. We were in the middle of the Special Operations Adventure Race and were pretty psyched because we were close to the front of the pack. Unfortunately, the rappel was up next and I'm not particularly fond of heights. I will rappel if I have to and as long as I don't look down or think about where I am, I'm okay. At the top of the cliff, the rope guy told me that there were a few bushes sticking out of the cliff wall, so I would have to navigate around them, which obviously involved both looking down and thinking about where I was. Fortunately, there were two ropes set up and Daniel was able to rappel beside me and help me navigate, while distracting me. Everyone looked at us funny as he addressed me as "Mrs. Davis," but I had both taught and coached him and habits are hard to break. The teacher/student team ended up doing well, at one point hanging out with the professional teams in the lead, searching the woods for a checkpoint that the directors forgot to put out.

Tony and I had "adopted" Daniel during his high school years. Okay, he already had a very nice family who took good care of him, but Daniel was not only a very talented runner, he also liked all the activities we liked as well. So we started training for adventure races with him, subjecting him to some serious torture, like making him struggle to paddle his white-water kayak in a straight line in the middle of a windy lake, carry his bike on his shoulders up mountain trails and having him sprint through thick knee-deep mud to punch our card. We did a couple of races together and then he was off to college.

We've heard from him from time to time and it was a nice surprise when he came and ran the last section of NMAR with me last year. Monday, he called Tony to tell him about a race he just did. Tony had lots of details for me (that's sarcasm). Daniel did some stage race somewhere, 20-some miles a day. Did really well, finished third. The third day was the hardest. He's running on some team. He hasn't been able to eat much since. He's going to email us more information.

Yesterday, while perusing blogs and awaiting the email, I looked at the Chattanooga Stage race results from this weekend and there he was. Third place overall with a total time of 7:46:28. For some reason, I was assuming it was a road race somewhere, not a gnarly trail race, but the trail race fits him much better.

When I talked to Daniel last night, he was still excited about his race. In typical modest-Daniel fashion, though, he wasn't sure if his times were good since he had never run such a race before. In fact, he had never run a race longer than a half-marathon, so running 18, 20, and 22 miles consecutively was a big step up. When he signed up for Chattanooga, he wasn't sure he'd even be able to finish the stages, but he did, with times much better than good.

Daniel just graduated from college and is going to PJ training for the Air Force next month. He said he didn't know if he was going to keep running (he had been running cross country and track for years), but his experience this weekend has turned him into a trail running addict, already searching for more runs. He's got the physical ability and the right mindset to do well at ultras and trail races. So, congratulations, Daniel! We're such proud parents. We're looking forward to watching you win some 100s down the road.

Photo by Jeff Bartlett

Black Mountain Monster Bear Video

Here's a video of the little bear at Black Mountain Monster:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqYYMm8Cf8o

Tony and Brian Beduhn are discussing their run while watching the bear knock berries out of the tree so he can eat them off the roof. Several of us saw the bear in the middle of the night behind the fence next to the paved section. He's pretty small- I thought he was a dog at first. Not exactly the Black Mountain Monster. But maybe next year.