Val in Real Life LLC

Tag: injury

Learning to be a Lefty
When your dominant hand fails you, it’s time to call in the back up. And it’s hella awkward.
I’m officially “that” age. You know, the one where you start racking up bodily failures simply due to a lifetime of use. Which is on top of the lingering effects of one-off past injuries, of course.
So yes, I’m at the “everything hurts” stage of life. I’ve dealt with the chronic fucking pain of Frankenleg for over a decade now but that’s a different category than the standard-issue getting-old aches and pains. This is the time of life when you simply sneeze and you throw out your back. Don’t ask me how I know this.
But the latest voice to join into the chorus is my right thumb. Or my carpometacarpal joint to be more precise. That’s the big thumb joint closest to the wrist.
And stick a fork in it, ’cause it’s done.
Big Fish
Obviously this didn’t happen overnight. I’d been noticing stiffness and aching building for a couple of years—ever-so-gradually, of course. I certainly thought “I should have someone look at that” along the way. But there were always other bigger fish to fry.
Until the thumb decided it wanted to be the biggest fish. And it decided the ideal time for that was when I picked up my knitting again in January. I left it behind when we went on the road and hadn’t gotten back to it with life being consumed by other things.
And holy hell, that’s when the giant fish jumped out of the water and into the boat, stared its beady eyes straight into mine and screamed,
“You will fucking pay attention to me!“
My right carpometacarpal joint
Fun with x-rays
So, in spite of the challenges of getting medical care in our small town (it’s really big issue here, by the way), I managed to get in with an orthopedic doc in town.
He did some poking and prodding and made a preliminary diagnosis that, yes the joint is shot and—oh, by the way, welcome to middle age. The x-rays confirmed his diagnosis. Along with the revelation that there’s basically zero cartilage left in the joint.
The most dramatic part was when he was explaining how the joint is “supposed” to work.
“You see how the end of your metacarpal is out here?”
“Mmm hmmmm,” I replied pensively.
“Yeah, that’s supposed to be over here,” he said pointing to an area that was quite far from where the end of the bone actually is right now.
So essentially, arthritis has pushed the end of the bone so far out of alignment, it’s not sliding in the joint like it’s supposed to. Throw in the absence of cartilage and you have all the ingredients for a Constant-Pain Cocktail^TM.
The bonus in the x-ray viewing party was seeing the arthritis blob around my ulnar collateral ligament repair from back in 2014. I knew it would be impressive given the gnarly-ass bump I can see from the outside. But seeing it from the inside? Even more fun.
Big fun back in 2014 to repair my ulnar collateral ligament. Good times, good times.
The conservative approach
I wasn’t quite ready to sign up for surgery on the spot. I mean—call me crazy—but I needed a minute to absorb the info. And to accept I can’t PT (“Physical Therapy”) my way out of this one unlike other injuries.
So we opted for a slower path that got me some relief. That involved an aggressive round of steroids and a splint. And orders to take it easy on my poor thumb. We’d see what that course of action got me and revisit the surgery question when I was ready.
Which gets us to the “learning to be a lefty” stage of this little adventure.
Well, this is awkward
Obviously switching to my non-dominant hand is awkward AF. But I’m getting grudgingly better at it in terms of the motor skills. The largest hurdle is remembering to do everything possible with my left hand.
And after the initial few weeks of constantly wearing a big honkin’ brace, I’m dialed down to an as-needed basis. And I filled out my suite of support devices to include smaller ones for different scenarios. They still provide support and protection but don’t keep my wrist immobile. ‘Cause that’s a suck fest and was a huge source of frustration. And unnecessary.
The biggest benefit right now with the braces, though, is it reminds me to avoid using my right hand. Otherwise I default to it out of habit, especially when I’m in a hurry. And I pay the price later in terms of pain.
Overall, the retraining-myself-to-be-more-of-a-lefty has resulted in only moderate (at best) success so far. I drop and fumble a lot of things. And I find myself using my right hand for quick assists, especially when not wearing a reminder brace.
The original mondo brace only used for yard work now.
The daily tasks brace.
The computer-work brace.
Sign me up for fashion week cause I’ve got some great looks going on right now.
Temporary status quo
But, the tasks I am maneuvering as a lefty—along with those I’m avoiding altogether—have given me enough relief to manage the pain for now.
Knitting is an absolute no-go. I powered through finishing the giant blanket I was working on for my eldest kiddo’s birthday, then put it all away yet again.
One really big elephant in the room is the problem joint is in my throttle hand. The Adventure Beast is a modern machine and doesn’t need more than a light touch. But there is something about that particular grip motion—as light as it is—that is especially aggravating to the bum thumb. So the fun-factor of riding is down a helluva a lot right now.
Gratuitous Adventure Beast picture just for shits and giggles.
And the old beast of a sidecar? Oh hell no, not riding that with its stiff 20th-century throttle. Not happening. That’s a big ole Nopety McNoperson. Just thinking about it makes my hand ache.
But the sneakiest thing that has crept in is I realized I’ve been avoiding using my “real” camera. Gripping it and manipulating the buttons has been one of the tougher things to work around. And I’ve unintentionally backed off from using it.
I’ve been defaulting to my smart phone which I can do more with my left hand. That’s not where I need to be with something that’s crucial to my life and livelihood. No bueno.
Powering through the blanket finish with the big brace sheathed so it wouldn’t keep snagging the yarn.
Slicing in the New Year
The range of motion in that thumb is deteriorating noticeably in spite of me doing “home PT” exercises. Which means I’ll need to have the surgery soon-ish before the damn thing is unusable at all.
But—you might have noticed—the health care system in the U.S. is a fuck-all shit show to end all shit shows. So I’ll be spending the next few months doing some financial and insurance hoop-jumping to set myself up to ring in the new year by getting sliced and diced.
This was definitely not in the brochure.
Share your thoughts in the comments below!
August 13, 2026
Maintaining Momentum
I’m in the home stretch on my latest round of physical therapy and I will be released to self-maintenance very soon. Frankenleg is improving at a glacial pace but that’s how this kind of thing goes. I’ve seen solid improvement in my strength since restarting physical therapy about six months ago. It’s most noticeable when getting the bike off the side stand, especially at an awkward camber—something that I’ve struggled with since the 2015 crash.
But the best improvement is less pain on a daily basis, which was the goal from the start. That progress is a challenge to measure. I have to pay attention to the absence of pain. That may seem obvious but it isn’t. It’s easy to notice when you’re hurting. Noticing that a chronic pain has gradually and grudgingly faded is more difficult. But I realized after some recent moderately strenuous hikes that the pain I would normally have had, both during and after, wasn’t there. Or at least was so minimal that it was just a footnote.
These hikes are a far cry from what I used to do without much trouble. Regaining prowess at that level may not go as well. But this IS progress. Progress that’s so slow it’s nearly imperceptible. Over three years into this, I’m well beyond the obvious day-to-day or week-to-week improvements. I’m even beyond month-to-month gains. This is the long haul—that portion of physical recovery that takes months of consistent hard work to see minute gains. It’s the doldrums. It’s tough to keep going when it doesn’t seem like all of the time and effort is delivering results.
I’ve spent countless hours diligently doing my PT exercises at my appointments, at home, and on the road. I have a small arsenal of PT torture devices at home. I take my smaller, portable gear with me on every trip and cram in some time to get the work done. I’ve used concrete curbs on the street as makeshift platforms for some of the exercises I do. Sometimes while wearing full motorcycle gear. That’s the logistical part, though.
The mental part is powering through even when it seems like a waste of time. It’s powering through when I have to summon every ounce of discipline I possess to overcome a lack of desire. It’s powering through when anger surges about why I’m still doing this. It’s powering through when the exhausting realization washes over me yet again that I will have to spend extra energy and focus the rest of my life to keep Frankenleg mostly functional. Because I can feel the strength in my leg deteriorate in just a couple of days, if I don’t tend to it. The difference between my injured leg and my good leg is astounding. I can never let my guard down if I want to keep doing the things I love because those things require this fucking leg to work fairly well.
But if I can avoid additional surgery, doing the work is a no-brainer. And I know that I have some measure of control about how this goes. As much as the process sucks, I have a choice in how this plays out in my life.
I’m not tooting my own horn about this hard-earned success. I’m writing this to encourage anyone who’s facing a similar situation to keep going. Pure and simple, it sucks. No way around that. Time seems to stand still some days when you’re muddling through exercises for the millionth time. But you have to envision the long play. A really, really long play with no true finish line because you’re doing it to keep living the life you want more than anything else in the world. Do the work and make sure you enjoy the ride along the way.
Adventure on, friends!
Physical therapy in full moto gear? Yep.

April 11, 2018
The Journey Back to Riding
How do you make a comeback? An epic one.
I don’t have a formula for you. I can only share my experience. I do know that mine has had three important pieces to the puzzle so far: logistical, physical, and emotional. And they’re all intimately connected.
For those of you who need a recap, the short version is that on January 25th, 2015, I was hit by a car while riding my motorcycle. The driver didn’t see me.
My left leg took a direct hit from the car, crushing it against my Bonneville. It left me with a shaft fracture in my femur and a shredded femoral artery. The injuries required a titanium rod and screws and a saphenous-femoral bypass to repair. There’s a laundry list of other injuries to go with it but “Frankenleg” has been the governing factor in my recovery.
Regaining your body…
I’ve come a long way in seven months. I’m not 100%. I’m learning to accept I never will be. But I will get as close as I can.
So much of returning to motorcycling is physical, obviously. There’s no two ways about it… the only way you get back to your life after major injuries to work hard. There’s no fast-forward or easy pass. Your body will never be the same, but you have to push for closing the gap as much as possible.
Sometimes I feel numb when I think of the countless hours with my physical therapist as well as working on my own. Through six weeks of non-weight-bearing frustration, learning to walk again, trying to rebuild strength and stamina. I’ve fought hard. I’ve cried my way through exercises and yoga more times than I truly care to admit. It hasn’t been pretty.
Having said that, the people involved in my recovery are fairly astonished at my progress. When I step back to look at my journey, I know what I’ve accomplished in the last seven months is remarkable given the extent of my injuries. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to be done working so hard to reclaim my life and being frustrated at not being further along. But the specter of living a half-life urges me onward.
The mental game…
Plowing through this kind of recovery is a roller coaster. I’ve had lots of good days. Ones that feel like it will all be ok someday soon.
Revisiting an unhappy place in order to put it behind me.
And lots of bad. Ones that leave me feeling defeated. Crushed. Days when clinging to tenacity seems a fool’s errand.
I’m not an expert on trauma and recovery. I’ve pieced this process together one day at a time. But as my fellow blogger, Jen Charrette, eloquently said… you have to keep showing up. At first, that’s all it is. Just showing up. Getting out of bed each day. You build from there.
I’ve learned a few other things along the way:
- A support network is crucial. An army of friends, family, doctors, and therapists all play into your ability to keep moving forward. From the early days of not being able to care for myself through getting back on the bike, the support I’ve received has taken so many forms.
- Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Tap into your tribe. The people who care about you want to help. And they might need your help one day. Then you can repay their generosity.
- It’s ok to acknowledge it sucks. It’s ok to grieve. But don’t dwell in that place. If you’re struggling with it, get help. The sooner, the better.
- Give it everything you have. The alternative is languishing in disappointment and what-ifs. Your life has changed but it isn’t over. Reclaim all you can.
- Look for inspiration in other stories. Let other successes help calibrate what you can accomplish. Seeing what others have overcome is fantastic motivation.
Back on the bike…
It took five months for me to return to motorcycling. As much as I wanted it, there were a lot of obstacles to overcome. Building enough strength to handle a motorcycle was one step. Overcoming the mental barriers was another entirely.
The best advice I’ve read to date is from the fabulous Liz Jansen. Her tips on riding after a crash are spot on. They are wise words and an important reminder that this is not a simple or easy process even for an experienced rider.
I managed a solo ride on my second day back in the saddle.
When it came time to face riding again, the factors that kept running through my mind were:
- I hadn’t ridden in five months.
- I had new physical limitations and uncertainties. I was no where near 100%. I’m still not.
- I had a brand-new, unfamiliar bike.
- The last time I rode ended in a life-changing trauma.
So I broke it down into steps:
- I rode pillion with a friend first. I was only responsible for holding on but it was the boost I needed to take the next steps and recapture the joy of riding.
- I enlisted the help of an experienced rider to head out with me the first time. I ride solo much of the time but I knew that would be foolish under the circumstances. So my buddy John Cloonan joined me. I knew I was ready but I was also uncertain what would shake out once I got back on the throttle. Having John patiently riding behind me was a great comfort.
- I returned to the MSF Campus for a Bike Bonding course. Just like when I was learning to ride, having focused time on a closed course with knowledgable instructors was priceless. And using one of their nimble little 300F bikes for practice instead of my mine reduced the stress of performing low-speed skills since that’s when you’re most likely to drop the bike. The pressure of worrying about damaging my new bike would have been a distraction from reforming my motorcycling skills.
More training was part of my strategy to regain my riding confidence.
To my surprise, my first ride with John went really well considering. My skills were not as abysmal as I expected them to be. Admittedly, my cornering was not fantastic. And it took a great deal of concentration to not be too jumpy when cars crossed my path. But I did it. What I simultaneously desired and feared had been conquered.
I was so stoked that I went out again the next day. Solo. I was feeling strong enough to ride through the dreaded intersection. I felt I needed to face the demon, so-to-speak.
It was oddly serene that day. Very little traffic. Clear skies. Hot and humid. Stifling compared to the crisp and cold day when I was there last. I glanced down at my instrument panel as I waited at the red light. It was 21 weeks to the day. Almost to the minute. And an eerily similar scenario to that fateful afternoon.
That almost got me. The events of previous last five months tried to come crashing down. But having a meltdown wasn’t an option in that moment. So I took a few deep breaths and eased the throttle open when the light turned green.
Moving forward… mostly.
Moving beyond trauma is a gradual process. Getting back to what you love is essential.
In spite of those early triumphs, this is not a linear process. I waver through confident rides and not-so-confident ones. And I’m still surprised by intense feelings.
Like when I returned to the intersection a few weeks later to take some photographs for another post. Having already ridden through, I thought I was good. But parked there, watching the traffic in a drizzling rain, a meltdown wasn’t avoidable. That time, everything did come crashing down on me.
There are hard fights to be won when it comes to getting back on the bike after a crash. They’re worth battling for somethring you love. I really can’t say it better than Liz Jansen.
If you truly want to ride, don’t let anything or anyone stop you. Not only do you deny yourself the pleasures of riding, that message of defeat carries with you into other areas of your life.
In the process of all this, I’ve had people tell me I’m fearless. Hardly. But I do refuse to let fear dictate my life. I didn’t have a choice about the crash. I do have a choice about reclaiming my life. And I refuse to let a stranger, who already irrevocably altered my life and took so much from me, take the joy of motorcycling as well.
Live large. Live fiercely. Cheers, friends.
And now for your moment of green…
The trip to Gibbs Gardens has become one of my favorite little rides to rebuild my skills. In the serenity of the Japanese Garden, I can assess what skills I need to work on during the ride home.

Now 24 weeks into my ordeal of being hit by a car, I’ve come to understand a lot about recovery and how it evolves. The challenges shift constantly. You reach a point when you covered most of the ground but closing the gap on what remains is a bigger challenge than everything you faced to that point. It’s the physical and shockingly painful version the 80/20 rule.
So today’s thoughts are from the downer “real life” department. Because this isn’t simply about a physical challenge. There are the emotional impacts of a major trauma to deal with as well. Feeling timid is the tip of the iceberg.
This process is excruciatingly slow. And exhausting. And time-consuming. And stressful. And very painful. Navigating the recovery process has been the center of my life for almost six months now. And it’s not nearly over.
If you were to meet me for the first time right now, you wouldn’t realize what I’ve been through in the last 6-ish months. Because I can walk now and function fairly normally, what I still struggle with is no longer obvious. But I’m not nearly the person I was. I simply can’t do what I used to be able to. This incident has impacted every single aspect of my life in avery big way. It’s so far-reaching, it’s often overwhelming.
There are those who see me progressing and realize the hard path it’s been. And there are those that see the progress and think I’m fine. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. I’m functional, but to close the remaining gap to get back to where I was sometimes seems unachievable. I often feel depleted from the effort to get this far; to go further seems too hard. It makes me want to say the progress I’ve made is good enough, but of course it isn’t. Yet I want to be done with recovery. Move on. But that’s not possible yet.
It’s easy to be gung-ho at the beginning of something. But as the days wear on and you see your progress slow to a crawl in spite of consistent effort, maintaining motivation becomes a challenge worthy of Sisyphus.
The truth is I’m tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of having to dig deeper and deeper each day to make progress. Tired of the hassles. I simply want my life back.
Much of the difficulty lies in knowing who and what I was before and how much of that was taken. That difficulty is compounded because this isn’t about growing through a challenge I chose for myself, it’s about clawing my way back to being myself due to a senseless act by another person.
There are so many who are cheering me on. It’s wonderful in so many ways. They’re celebrating my triumphs but, in all honesty, what may appear like successes don’t really feel like them to me. It just sucks. It doesn’t feel amazing to simply regain basic life skills or what you’d already achieved; to be forced re-accomplish something that was brutally taken from you.
I think people want to believe in the idea of becoming a better person through adversity. Maybe I’ll see it that way one day when I’m not stuck in it, using every resource I have to deal with it. But not now. Not yet.
And that’s where the emotional recovery lies. The journey to acceptance is a tumultuous one. Some days are better than others, just like in physical therapy.
So I dance with the balances and dichotomies of life. Even though I’m back to having some wonderful experiences, they are still framed in struggle and limitations. But I pursue them in order to embrace the healing process and find the joy still to be had.
The big picture here is that life doesn’t fit neatly into little “all or none” boxes. Ever.
As a blogger, I’m trying to balance being honest about what this experience has been with not being a total killjoy. But the truth is this is what has dominated and defined my life this year. To not share enough of this very real experience would be disingenuous. Sharing too much could prove tiresome. Where’s the tipping point? I don’t know.
I do know that the recovery process is long and awful in every aspect. There are no quick fixes. Time is essential. There is no one thing that makes it happen. It’s putting a lot of the little things together hoping they’ll eventually add up. And I hope that every day I get up and move forward helps fulfill my prediction that this will be a footnote in my life within a year, both physically and emotionally.
So I leave you with this…
Piecing together peace, one moment at a time.

June 26, 2015
Life on Hold…
Imagine out of the blue you had to put your entire life on hold. Full stop. Not negotiable.
It’s something we all dread and know can happen at any time.
That’s where I am right now. Sixteen days ago I was hit by a car. My life as it was stopped.
Now, the simplest of of daily tasks are exhausting and time-consuming. I have been labeled “home-bound” by my insurance company. For someone who’s unofficial motto is “Home is a four-letter word,” that is a terribly hard thing to hear. Everything I love to do is now not an option. No hiking. No motorcycle. No yoga. I go days without leaving my loft. That’s right… me. Because it’s that hard.
I still don’t have any idea when I’ll regain the first shred of normalcy in my life. It’s taken me awhile to grasp the severity of this, mainly because I know the potential for how much worse I could have ended up. Trying to reconcile the difficulty of my current position with gratitude for it not being worse is a awkward dance.
What I’m up against…
Medically, I’ve suffered a major trauma. That included an vein-to-artery bypass on my femoral artery and two transfusions. A rod and screws now permanently resides along the entire length of my femur. The broken fibula looks to be healing without further intervention other than immobilization. I have a minor concussion that leaves my head spinning much of the day. My left leg is a macabre train track of nearly three-feet worth of incisions and staples. The feeling has largely returned to my foot but not totally. The extent of possible permanent nerve damage isn’t known yet and probably won’t be for some time.
And even though there doesn’t appear to be new damage to last year’s hand injury, it’s very sore, stiff, and weak after being bruised and battered in the crash. I do have a minor fracture in the tip of that same thumb so I get numbness there from time-to-time.
Watching what my body is going through to try to heal from all of this is astounding. There’s the “Wow, the human body is amazing!” aspect as well as the flip-side that really all I can do is rest because my body is using absolutely every resource it has in order to heal. And it’s getting there. I’m certainly surpassing my doctor’s expectations but, even so, there’s a certain amount of time this takes. I have four more weeks of non-weight-bearing on the leg and another six weeks beyond that of rehab and therapy in order to get to a point where I’ll be able to get back on the trails.
I’ve been debating how detailed to go with this but I want to put a real face on this experience so I have to be brutally honest about what these last two-and-a-half weeks have been like.
The ugly logistical tidbits…
I’ve struggled to organize this into a coherent narrative so instead I’ve compiled a snapshot of the things I face now:
My odd little world where I have to wear two different shoes to accommodate my foot brace.
- My daily life at home largely consists of moving from the bed to the living room. And back. Because that’s basically all I can manage from both an energy-level and pain standpoint. I was hoping I’d be a little further along by now but hobbling on crutches or a walker is not only exhausting, it aggravates my hand.
- Showers are a nearly hour-long ordeal so I’m partaking sparingly. Again, an exhausting exercise of trying to manipulate once-simple tasks of undressing, bathing, re-bandaging wounds, etc. all without the benefit of being able to stand or even bend my swollen, misshapen leg.
- Sleep is fitful and sporadic due to constant discomfort and the need to maintain leg elevation. Every muscle in my body is aching and tense from lop-sided maneuvering. There’s just no way to get comfortable. I can only sleep for 30-45 minutes at a time.
- Because of the vascular surgery, I have to give myself an injection of blood thinners every day.
- What limited energy I have is reserved for managing the detritus of this mess. Navigating the legal, financial, and medical implications is nearly all-consuming.
- I’m only functioning at a very basic level. Thanks to an army of remarkable people, I’m managing to stay fed, somewhat bathed, and get to the multitude of doctor’s appointments that now run my life.
- Obviously I can’t drive or run even the most basic of errands. It’s taking a team of people to get the boys to and from their classes and me to appointments.
- Much of my day consists of deciding how badly I want things like that next cup of coffee or a bathroom break because the energy needed to do those things is daunting.
- You’d think because I’m largely sedentary, I have a lot of free time to catch up on computer-based things. Not so. Aside from the constant phone calls and hassles of managing this situation, basic tasks take about four times as long, and even sitting up for any length of time is exhausting. My head is in a fog from sleep-deprivation and the concussion.
The emotional strain…
When every little detail of your life is a struggle, it takes its toll. Throw in the uncertainty of the financial implications of this and the inability to work and it quickly ramps up to a high-stress situation… which is exactly what your body doesn’t need to heal.
A little dose of happiness visiting Marlo.
Two-and-a-half weeks doesn’t seem like a large chunk most of the time. This has been an eternity. And this is just the beginning. Even though I know I’ll get better, I don’t really know how whole I’ll be in the end.
It’s hard to keep the thoughts at bay… all the things I had planned for this year that are now cancelled or uncertain. Many trips for February and March simply had to be scrapped. Later spring trips are all dependent upon how well physical therapy proceeds. And looking further into the year, even summer and fall plan are in limbo as well as I watch and wait to see how this goes. From a work standpoint, I can’t pick up freelance gigs because I have no idea when I’ll be able to deliver. My best guess is that this is a six-month setback.
I’m trying not to dwell on that… what’s been taken from me. I have to accept where I am now, regroup, and rebuild. But waves of frustration are inevitable, especially when those plans are your work as well as your life. I’m wary of acceptance becoming resignation. It’s a slippery slope. Fortunately I have a lot of people on my team watching out for me and who I know will give me a kick in the ass if needed.
I started this recovery project with the mindset that I will be ok. And certainly everyone who knows me has no doubts. But that’s that danger of strength rearing it’s head again, because it’s not a foregone conclusion that I will get back to where I was. As you can probably guess, I have a lot of ups and downs… the times where I dig in and fight fiercely and the times where it’s all so overwhelming.
Why I hope you’ll take this to heart…
I detail all of this because I want to humanize this experience. I’m just me but I’m also a mom, a friend, a sister, a daughter… I hope you’ll see I represent what can happen to any of us or our loved ones at any time and how we conduct ourselves when we get behind the wheel counts. We have each other’s lives in our hands when we’re out in the world and it’s amazingly easy how quickly we can alter the course of each other’s lives.
And yes, I’m lucky to be alive. We’re all lucky to be alive. We all face the possibility of a tragic encounter every single day. Yes, I’m grateful to still be here. But I’m not going to apologize for being on a motorcycle even though so many people want to blame that. I took every precaution aside from bubble-wrapping my life. When it comes to auto vs. motorcycle, bicycle, or pedestrian, the car will always win, regardless of fault. But that doesn’t mean we should not walk or ride. It means we as drivers need to take more care and recognize cars do not own the road. It must be shared.
Where to go from here…
I’ve got a long road ahead of me and really my goal for the next several months is to not fade away or let this define my future. After two weeks of spinning out of control, I hope some normalcy returns and I continue to make gains in tackling basic survival. It’s one thing to be ill for a couple of days but when you’re sidelined for months, the task of maintaining your stamina for recovery requires patience and perseverance. I hope I have what it takes. I hope in a year this will be a footnote in my life.
Finding happiness…
Since I’m deprived of the things I do to be happy, I’ve had to discover new ways to keep myself motivated and positive.
The Disapproving Beagle was entirely put out that I repurposed his tennis balls. And his antics were a much-needed laugh.
I love seeing pictures my friends out adventuring. The irreverent teasing of my friends reminds me I am loved. Even those silly cute animal videos on Facebook are a source of positive energy. And as cheesy as it is, reading the stories of people who have overcome far more than I face remind me this is a temporary and largely recoverable situation, even though in the midst of it, it often seems insurmountable.
The overwhelming support that has poured out from this reminds me I’m not alone. I don’t know where I would be without the emotional and logistical support I’ve received. In the end, that is the well-spring of happiness that will carry me through.
When I look at the difficulty I face being confined and dependent, I have to wonder if it’s harder for adventurous types to be completely down-for-the-count. I think it might be. Because for us, it’s not just losing a little part of your life, it’s losing nearly everything you love to do and everything you are as a person. Fortunately for me it’s temporary. But weathering the recovery is no small task.
Cheers, friends. Live large and adventure on.
And now for your moment of green…
Like my millipede friend here, I feel like I’ve had to curl up in a little ball until the threat has passed… I feel ya, buddy.
February 11, 2015
A Better Story
One of the subjects much-discussed among the outdoor community is risk. And the very incorrect perception that our pursuits are often very risky, dangerous, or even downright irresponsible.
As I’ve dealt with the hand injury has dominated my life for the last six months, I’ve had to recount the story of how I injured it countless times. It is a very mundane story and without fail, the response is “You need a better story.” Especially given what I do, there’s a little expectation that I must have been off doing something outrageous to have injured myself so badly that, by the end, I will have spent at least year recovering and dealing with the impact of it.
I’ve laughed along with the you-need-a-better-story notion, though. Because it is funny in a way. And we’d rather hear a rousing tale than one of such mind-numbing boredom, wouldn’t we? But I’ve now firmly landed on… no, I don’t need a better story.
While it might be fun to embellish it into a wild, fun yarn, it would perpetuate the misconception of risk in our daily lives. I take my role as a model for living differently and fully fairly seriously and I don’t want to further the notion that how I live is what caused this.
The truth of the matter is that daily life is filled with a tremendous amount risk. There is risk in our daily commutes, our home, our workplaces, and our lifestyles. Some of it is acute and some of it is chronic but either way, because we face it daily, we’ve learned to reconcile much of it as part of life… the acceptable risk of the mundane. Yet risk for recreation’s sake is somehow not acceptable because it lives under the umbrella of “avoidable” activities. As you can imagine, I strenuously disagree with that mindset for a variety of reasons.
What I hope is that you’ll join me in redefining acceptable risk. Life is inherently risky and entirely untidy no matter what we’re doing. Let’s free ourselves from the notion that there should never be risk or that the ultimate goal is to negate any possibility of injury or mishap. Let’s instead focus on taking reasonable precautions in our pursuits, daily or otherwise. Let’s manage risk while still living fully… and pay much more attention to the things that really catch up with us, the insidious daily risks we’ve resigned to accept that are actually quite avoidable.
For those of you who are still left wondering about how I managed to tear a major ligament in my hand, I simply closed the rear door of the car… and did a very poor job at it. And no, I don’t need a better story.
You’ve got to be willing to navigate the thorns of life to get to the juicy fruit that lies beneath.

December 12, 2014
Adjustments
If you follow along on the various social media outlets like Facebook and Instagram, you know I’ve been battling a fairly significant hand injury that I sustained back in June on the Pacific Northwest Tour.
It’s been a doozie to deal with. Having postponed surgery until after the Hell Hike and Raft expedition, I’ve spent the last couple of months in varying stages of frustration and adjustment to my post-surgery abilities… or lack thereof. I wish I could say I’ve weathered this with dignity and prowess. Alas, not so much. All I’ve been able to muster are desperate attempts at slowing my physical decline and hopefully not bottom out as a bowl of jelly.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to do many of my usual activities and that daily tasks would be a struggle but that impact was even greater than I anticipated. Those activities are my happy place: hiking, yoga, knitting, photography. My limited ability to do them has made it tough to be a happy camper. Yes, even hiking has been a challenge because it caused my arm to throb and swell painfully in the casts. That was a bit of a shocker. It was the one thing I thought I’d still be able to do with a hand injury. And I’ve completely missed the autumn camping season for lack of being able to pitch a tent without risking the safety of my delicate ligament I’ve worked so hard to repair and rehab.
And life’s tasks that aren’t fun but necessary have been a giant frustration: cooking, cleaning, driving, etc. You’d think sitting at the computer to catch up on writing and image editing would be manageable in the meantime. Nope. At least not in more than little increments.
The good news is that I’m on the mend but it’s been difficult to be patient. Each day is slightly better. And now I’m finally out of the casts and on to physical therapy which means I finally have some say in my progress instead of simply being in waiting mode. I’m not up to speed, of course, but I can slowly dip my toe back into things, albeit it with some adjustments and accommodations.
And I think that’s the point that I’m reminded of with this struggle. There’s no status quo in life and we have to be able to make these adjustments to dance life’s dance. This has been my dance lesson.
So I leave you with this…
Learning that crawling is sometimes part of life’s dance…

November 14, 2014
Setbacks and Denial
So you know how I was feeling triumphant for having returned from The Pacific Northwest Tour sans major travel catastrophes for once. Other than feeling a little worse for wear, things went pretty smoothly considering the undertaking.
The bad news is that I was wrong. I’ve been basking in a healthy dose of survival-denial in that I’ve been ignoring the hand issue that plagued me since Salt Lake City because I knew if acknowledged the complications that I’d be hard-pressed to keep plowing forward. That denial stage got me through the remainder of the Pacific Northwest Tour… setting camp, breaking camp, cooking, lifting, shooting, and hauling for another four weeks.
But now that I’m past that and I have to face reality, I find myself giving way to a torn ligament that is very painful and terribly limiting with the only real solution being surgery. This means I’ll have to switch things up in terms of how I operate day-to-day as well as shifting adventures to more low-key efforts that don’t strain the hand until I get through surgery and recovery. Camping trips are going on the back burner since the physical demands of setting up camp are too much but there’s still a lot I can do to keep the adventure flowing. It will certainly cramp my style on the Hell Hike and Raft but with the help of my fabulous crew-mates, I’ll be fine.
In light of all of the potential physical challenges a person can face, this falls in the minor category. It is, however, a major hassle and makes daily tasks cumbersome but like my friend Petunia, it isn’t going to kill me. And while there are no guarantees, it is likely a recoverable and temporary setback and it just means making some adjustments in the meantime.
Anyway, the point of this being and that we all have our setbacks, big and small, emotional and physical. I think the key is knowing yourself well enough to be able to tap into the things that keep you in your happy place even when you’re struggling and keep pursuing them even if you have to change the process a little to accommodate your challenges.
Which brings me to a quote that always make me laugh and keep things in perspective…
Any idiot can face a crisis; it it this day-to-day living that wears you out. ~Anton Chekov
Cheers!
It was painful, but continuing to plow through the Pacific Northwest Tour meant not missing the opportunity to see eye-popping sunsets in Oregon.
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August 8, 2014