You hear about second wind in marathons, often around mile 22. Just when you’re out of air, out of energy, and the finish line is a breath too far, all of a sudden the body (mind?) finds its rhythm again, breathing steadies, legs carry you onward. Sometimes, anyway.
Other times, you see those depleted runners sitting on the curb, within view of their goal, stopped miserably in their tracks.
All the planning, training, preparation, and Gatorade in the world is sometimes just not enough.
The restorative renewal of a second wind when you need it most, whatever the shape, type or distance of your marathon – it’s a beautiful – and sometimes mysterious – thing.
And it just happened to me.
I finally saw the ortho surgeon a few days ago, expecting to get a date for him to scope my knee and fix the cartilage tears that have made walking so difficult, next to impossible for any length of time.
My hope (a fairly faded one as time has marched on) was that all could be dealt with in time for me to recover for Camino in September and not miss too much work in my new job. I am a dream weaver.
He looked at my MRI, poked, prodded, pulled and pushed at me, asked a bunch of questions about my activity level, pain, etc. and then pronounced: “I don’t recommend surgery at this time.” What???? My doctor had been 100% convinced the only solution was a surgical one.
But he (I suppose we learn mostly from TV that surgeons only care about wielding the knife) said whatever I’d been doing since the scans were taken had been helping tremendously. I described my gym program. He said I was strong with tremendous range of motion in legs, hips, joints, especially for someone with this injury.
He also said in addition to the injury, I have moderate to severe arthritis in one part of the knee and surgery won’t help that anyway.
It’s not as if my knee has been reborn. The cartilage tears are long and jagged and won’t heal themselves. But the inflammation and fluid build-up, a big part of why my walk became a limping hobble, have largely disappeared! And the muscles supporting/stabilizing the knee – they’re much stronger and are doing the job pretty well!
So Stefan, I dedicate this second wind/second chance to you – I am ever grateful.
Then the doc said the magic words: “Don’t cancel your Camino trip.” Hallelujah!!
He said I was already active, which would make it easier to get back into the walking swing. He cautioned Go Slow. Start with short easy walks. Wear the knee brace. Build up *gradually*. After all this hope and glory, he did get a tad buzzkill at this point and said there are no guarantees.
He said if the inflammation and fluid come back, I have to stop and he will reconsider surgery. He said, well, if this happens a few days before your trip, that’s life. Very true.
Like others before him, he finished with LISTEN TO YOUR BODY.
Sometimes I have selective hearing. But I will give this very good advice another chance.
The Camino certainly seemed to have a few words for me in these past few days, beginning, of course, with the wonderful doc news.
Later I heard from someone close to me who passed this blog to a colleague who had just discovered the Camino and was longing to do it – the whole thing – as a much-needed time for reflection, healing, discovery.
Then I went with family to a small Celtic concert, held in an old old bar in my town that used to be the site of brawls and drug busts. It still has some attractive rough edges.
The headliner was the fey and charming Nuala Kennedy who played flute and tin whistle to old Irish reels, jigs and new mashups along with her fiddle and guitar player.
Turns out Nuala had collaborated with Canadian Oliver Schroer, a musician who walked all of the Camino in 2004 and recorded his musical reflections along the way in a record titled, simply, Camino. He died several years later, and Nuala played to him and for him – odes of joy and lament both.
Here’s his beautiful song Field of Stars, sung in a Toronto church, the last time he performed before he died.
In the preface to this album, he says:
“El Camino. The Road…
It is continuous, unbroken, yet changing. The one constant is the sound of footsteps – the heartbeat of the pilgrimage…”
And excuse me for yanking you from the sublime to the earthly, but the final word from Camino jumped out at me from the loo at the bar. The first graffiti scrawl I read was ONWARD written in huge letters on the stall door. My word for the year. Come on, that’s gotta be a message, yes?
Of course, there was also “Eric is my big sugar daddy” and “Call me for a good time” (no phone number, though).
So I’m moving onward. Taking the chance and not cancelling plane tickets and other Camino plans.
I will continue with the 4-times-a-week gym action, early in the morning before work at the Donkey Sanctuary. There’s a beautiful 2k trail around a pond there, perfect for practice walks and longer trails when I get back in gear – I know, who can be so lucky?
I am so happy for your great news. It seems like you’ve been doing the right thing all along. Ultreya!
You are so amazing and I am so proud of you as you’ve gone on this journey of discovery. Onward!!!! Camino awaits.xxoo
Happy for your good news! Do take it slow. Someone once told me their music teacher said: “The slower you learn, the quicker you learn.” I’m sure it is good advice for health recovery too.
Speaking of music, if you want to borrow the Camino album let me know.
This is marvelous! Both a marvelous read and marvelous news. For once I am happy that you won’t be making a trip out here this summer.
Keep on walkin’ Katharin. We’re all cheering for you and your journey on the camino.