The emotional road that is recovery.
Recovering from an injury is one of the most difficult tasks an athlete can handle.
It’s overwhelming, frustrating, infuriating, stupid and above all, incredibly emotional.
Over a month ago, I tore five ligaments that surrounded my right ankle in a ski accident. 10” of floofy powder pulled us to dropping bowls and at the bottom of one, I caught an edge, my ski stuck, didn’t pop...but my ankle did. My boots were sloppy and loose (turns out, I’ve progressed much faster than anyone thought I could in a year!) and the extra room allowed for a pretty serious ankle injury. Once Brett figured out that I wasn’t just stuck, he rushed over, helped me take off my boot and tried to asses what was wrong. I was completely terrified. I refused ski patrol, and stubbornly skied (the worst turns of my life) painfully down to the truck, then off to the emergency room.
Now, I know I could have had worse. I know how lucky I am. I truly do. But damn if this injury didn’t knock me on my ass!
The next day, I cried. Literally, all day. I couldn’t handle it. The thought of what happened and the repercussions destroyed me. I understand that we do incredibly risky sports and injury is bound to happen. High risk, high reward they say. I have been injured in the past - from horses (dear god so many injuries), trail running, climbing…But this was new for me.
I have fallen so madly in love with skiing that all I want to do is ski. I want to learn more, get better. I want to study snow science, take every chance I can to get turns in. I love every bit of it. Even the stupid wind and icy Hood conditions.
So I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if I was done for the season. I didn’t know how to recover. I couldn’t understand the emotion that engulfed me. I texted people and talked to my friend Alex who told me stories of remarkable recoveries. I wrote about it, and I cried. I probably scared the shit out of Brett. Cause dude, I cried. A lot. Like a fucking child who just lost their favorite toy. I was a mess!
But then, I picked myself up. I created a plan of recovery. I talked to my therapist, I dove right into a heavy rotation of manual therapy, acupuncture, stretches and hot epson soaks. I have been downing collagen and Chinese herbs to rebuild the ligaments. I continue to work hard on stability and mobility. I don’t push it and I listen to my body instead of my heart. I got NEW and stiffer boots and I prepared to ride out the storm.
And then, today. I stepped into my bindings. I was so damn nervous. I was shaking and couldn’t get my freakin boot in my binding. Then, I got on the lift, took a deep breath - and just like that, we were back in the game.
My first turns were slow and calculated. Testing the new boots, testing my ankle strength. I was focused and I don’t think I took a breath till I hit the bottom. Then, I pushed the gas a bit on the second run…and guess who is back?! FUCK YES I AM!!!!
I didn’t push myself too much. Took one tumble that scared the piss out of both Brett and I. But I got back up and repeated “I’m okay” at least 36 times - to Brett, to our friends Shannon and Reed and to myself. I think I repeated it to myself down the entire slope.
And I am okay! I took it easy, I listened to my body. Stuck to chill blue runs. I didn’t go full throttle but I kept up. I still have lots of recovery and strength to build but honestly? I feel stronger than I did months ago. (Alex, you were so right!)
Injuries suck. Recovery takes time and patience, of course. But it also takes a village to help and encourage, therapy to help answer questions of why you’re reacting this way, mental check ins and many journal entries. It takes listening to yourself, to others to make the right decisions. It takes giving yourself love and kindness, setting boundaries for yourself and giving yourself the best care you can. And maybe reading a few good books along the way.
This injury was a huge lesson for me. One that I continue to learn. Injury may take us down one path, but the recovery shows us what we are truly made of.