I wrecked. Badly.
Not in running, but in my all time favorite sport - water skiing.
I had just run my 20 miles that morning, and capped off my 5th week in a row of very solid marathon training. I was starting to feel strong and fit. So fit, that an hour or two before my wreckage, I had basically convinced myself to go all in on my training. I was thinking that I could skip the Chicago Marathon, get an extra 2 weeks of hammer time, and go for broke at the Grand Rapids Marathon. That move would yield another 6 weeks of solid peak training. No doubt, putting me in some of the best shape of my running career. I felt strong and confident that I could handle it.
It was a beautiful, calm day at the cabin. I was relaxing and recovering from the run at the beach with Sarah and my sister, Debbie's family. Soft Maple was buzzing with other boaters towing tubes and hack skiers. I couldn't blame them for trying though. I wanted a piece of the action too.
My time had come, and Debbie was going to take me skiing. We were to go through some choppy waters, and then hit the back channel where I was assured I would get some glass. It was a short ride from the island over to the channel... not even 2 minutes worth. I got up, I waited in the boat's wake as she made a turn, then I saw the chance to cut outside and start carving.
Slalom Skiing is second nature to me. I probably learned how to ski in the 2nd or 3rd grade. When I was in 4th or 5th grade, I learned how to ski slalom. Somewhere in the 5th grade, I learned how to get up on one ski. From that moment forward I had no use for 2 skis, and I vowed to never touch 2 again (I broke that vow ONCE in 25 years... and that was to ski in a pyramid a few years ago, but I'll let that slide).
When I was teen ager, I'd spend countless days in August skiing all day long. I'd nag anyone I could find to drive me. Carving became my play thing. It's so graceful and elegant, yet so violent at the same time. Slalom is an absolute full-body effort... One of the toughest workouts I've ever done. You use your entire body to pull it off... to the point where I can barely stand or even feel my arms for a couple minutes after words, but such a huge reward when you can slice glass back and forth, back and forth...
One of my other regrets in life (kinda like not running XC in high school or college), was that I ever went to ski school and got more aggressive in the sport. At this point in life, I won't win any big deal awards for my efforts but I'll gladly carve it up as much as possibly for 2-3 weeks a year. If I could ski more often, that would no doubt be the ONLY sport I would ever want to do.
...(OK, so now that you know how I feel, back to the story)....
99.99% of the time, I wouldn't have thought anything about this particular ride, aside from the fact that there was some awesome glass in the channel and I was chomping at the bit to tear it up. I was to cut outside the wake, and start grinding away. Just like with running... one foot in front of the other, and repeat.
I dug deep, and pealed off to the right. Very fast acceleration, a quick hop of the wake in one second... The very next second, my tail comes out, my front gets tripped by a small wave, and I'm slammed into another small wave... ribs first, face second.
I don't even think there was a tumble in there. It would've been nice, because it probably would've slowed me down.
I didn't have the wind knocked out of me, but damn it hurt! I immediately thought, "that was a top-5 wreckage". I wish I could've seen it. I actually even thought I chipped a bunch of my teeth when I hit the water. Going that fast, it might as well have been concrete. I layed there for a couple minutes as Debbie circled back around.
I knew my ribs were bad, but I didn't know how bad. I didn't feel anything break. Just massive, painful pressure. Maybe it would've been ok with the sledge hammer to the chest alone... had I not just gotten back up and finished the ride.
Finishing the ride couldn't have helped. But that's what I do. I finish the ride. I always finish the ride. Just like finishing a run after you know you've damaged yourself, even when you're done for it.
Hours later, I could barely breathe without pain. I couldn't raise my right arm without pain, much less pick something weighing over a pound. Sleeping became a nightmare. None of it went away until I flooded my body with motrin. Nothing helped. It's amazing how much your ribs, intercostal muscles, and abs all play into the most mundane of tasks.
That was nearly 2 weeks ago.
My marathon training was ground to an immediate halt. 90 to zero in a split second. Tail out, tip tripped, and BAM! Most other points in my life, and I wouldn't have cared. Am I upset? I guess I'd rather be injured skiing than running... so shit happens. But I'm a marathoner now. I'm on the heels of months of hard work and countless runs in 100-fucking-degree-days, and was on the brink of banging out a spectacular race... all for nothing at this point. Shit happens.
Sarah's helped with some massage work. I've seen a PT, which also helped. Nothing's broken, but most likely I damaged some of the cartilage between the rib bones, and really knotted up the intercostals in multiple spots. Like I said, I'm incredibly surprised how much those tiny little spots effect my efforts to breathe deeply or move with ease.
I'm starting to gradually feel better now (finally). No where near perfect, but good enough to gut out a 6 mile run today. At the moment, I'm taking it day by day. I haven't chalked up plans for Grand Rapids just yet (October 21st), but I'm possibly going to look elsewhere so I can more fully recover.
The miles of trials and the trials of miles.... er the something like that...
