To Suffer Humbly
The Road to Redemption is Paved with Pain, Suffering & Humility
Who doesn’t love an inspiring comeback story of redemption and resurrection? Especially in this time when we could all use a double-shot of inspiration…
Be it the 40 year old father and highschool coach who finds his way to pitching in the big leagues against all odds. Hell, even after all the drama and controversy of Tiger Woods’ life — the world cheered his return to champion status with his win at the Masters last season.
Yet, for all the celebration and accolades that come with the comeback story few eyes ever lay witness to the difficult path back. The struggle, suffering and sacrifice that challenges one physically, mentally and emotionally.
For many reasons the journey of redemption is often done in the dark — far away from the spotlight and absent cheering fans and supporters.
I’ve been lucky in my life when it comes to living from a position of strength with a relative mastery of my fitness and performance. Of course, “luck,” as it is often said, is “where preparation meets opportunity.” Hence, I do choose to believe I’ve played a role in this good fortune.
A multi-sport athlete through my school years who transitioned directly to bodybuilding, I’ve spent the greater majority of my life in the gym or on a bike. Thus, my version of “out of shape” or “a little off my game,” could be a goal for many men.
Alas, if you’ve done enough circles around the sun you know life is never a straight line with simple and easy at the wheel. Certainly is not the case for most all of us in this stranger-than-fiction year of 2020.
A year that has undoubtedly challenged every human’s resolve, capacity and resources; my 2020 started off with a bang — or more accurately a “blow.” As in a blown (aka torn) achilles.
Then came to doctors, schedules, surgery and endless bills which have become the hallmark of the American medical “system.” (I try not to exaggerate the logic involved in it.)
As you may already know, yet warrants a reminder: The achilles tear is the most common injury for the over 40 man. It is the strongest tendon in the human body and hence is often subject to great and sudden force.
Just as I was up from weeks of crawling on my knees or stumbling on crutches, I hobbled into the gym with my enormous boot on to continue my battle to maintain muscle, strength and vitality — doing with what I could do. Two days later this &%$#&#* pandemic shut everything down.
The gym closed, forced off the bike, kids in lockdown their mother’s house I found myself isolated. Thus, it wasn’t long before every bit of my long evolved “luck” began running thin.
Sleep slipped from ritual to optional. Energy waned. Focus faded and I was either eating everything or nothing — some days both at the same time. The initial “15 days to bend the curve” became a month and spread like melted butter into the slowest moving 6 months of our lives.
Interest was replaced by irritation. Frustration faded to darkness and depression. Many days, as spring arrived, I would just sit in my car watching others riding their road cycles towards the mountains I craved to climb.
After several months, as my achilles gradually began to heal I tested it on the bike. It was hard to “clip in” and my first few weeks of riding were all about testing and not getting too far away from home for fear my leg would give way.
I can attest that this achilles is the most challenging and slowest healing serious injury I’ve ever experienced. And I’ve had more than a few blown tendons and repair surgeries.
As my healing, along with my ability to ride progressed, come mid-summer I began to pull myself up and out of the darkness. I set up a simple, basic home gym (nothing like what I used to have but arguably good ‘nuff) and began more regular rides of 15 to 20 miles — just to get my “legs and lungs back.”
These rides were largely just loops around the mountain and town with a few short hills but mostly what cyclists call “riding the flats.” I’d not even attempted to climb the mountain that I’d routinely power up 4 to 5 times a week the previous summer.
The reasons for not ascending The Mountain were plenty. My leg is not yet strong enough. My lungs are not back to full strength and I’m a good 15 pounds in excess of my cycling weight — and that makes a huge difference.
As I say, “the Covid-19 gave me the Covid-20!” A line that is good for a chuckle, as most can identify but the truth of it sucks.
As I continued to progress I began to sense that perhaps there was more to this avoidance of the mountain. Could it be that I just wasn’t ready or willing to suffer?
Now, you don’t lift weights and ride a bike for as long and with the intensity I have done both if you haven’t made friends with suffering — even come to enjoy it on some deep level.
I’ve heard Lance Armstrong rant endlessly about his love for suffering on the bike. He says he didn’t even really love the racing — what he was in this for was the suffering.
A position that I can totally identify with. For suffering was something I too had come to enjoy — the type Lance was speaking of. That place of finding your upper limit and then pressing direct into it.
Hell, even at my overly muscled weight (for a cyclist) and midland age, I would most always battle to not get passed on a climb. I could push myself further and farther into the “red” than most people can tolerate. Plus, I knew the road, the pitches, the plateaus and enjoyed having someone to chase or challenge me up the mountains.
Yet, it was not this suffering I was avoiding. It was the painful realization that when it came time for me to pack all of me into my skin tight Tokyo Joes cycling kit and mount that damn bike, my return to the mountain was going to suck — big time.
It was gonna suck because I knew every pedal stroke was going to be harder than it had ever been. Every other cyclist on the mountain was likely going to pass me at some point and there was not a thing I could do to respond to it.
I was going to be every bit that middle-aged guy struggling to get up that damn mountain. Short of wearing a sign explaining my last six months, from surgery on, I would have no say in how damn awful this would feel and look.
Hence, I kept circling the flats and avoiding that damn mountain like an angry ex. And that’s the way it was until this past Saturday. I didn’t think it through, nor set some elaborate goal. I just got on my bike for a typical ride and decided the time was here. Now!
Whatever it took. However it looked. However deeply I suffered I was going to the top. I resolved to have patience — to ride within my limit and really, truly to fully embrace the suffering with a heaping helping of humility.
I knew if I could take the physical suffering I was strong enough to swallow the double-dose of humility as well. This was not a race. I made no demands other than to turn the pedals over one stroke at a time until I reached the top of that mountain.
Indeed it was as hard as I had anticipated. My achilles ached, my lungs burned, my legs screamed for surrender. I battled the mind’s frequent desire to rationalize “this is far enough” at every turn around spot.
Yet, I slugged onward, upward.
No Hero Here
Mine is not a story of a heroic comeback, nor a great resurrection. I’m far from where I want to be, from enjoying this challenging ride as I once did.
Rather this is the story we don’t see or hear about on the road back: The process.
It reminds me of a saying I’ve enjoyed for decades: If you like sausage and respect the law you ought not watch either of them being made.
The road to back to your full strength and peak performance is not pretty nor easy. Yet, where is the fun in easy? Easy is for those who can but won’t — those who choose to accept the “good enough” ride the flats and all to quickly forget the joy of ascending.
In this terrifically challenging year I have yet to speak to anyone who isn’t faced with a list of challenges and obstacles that none of us had on our “2020 bingo cards.”
It is all so damned hard. Be it the loss of sports and social events. The loss of contact with family and friends. The kids virtual schooling or even that walking the dog has become a peak daily activity.
As far as I am concerned, you should feel free to speed-smack any of the “rah-rah” coaches or leaders who wanna sell you on how simple it is to get back on the bike — or the horse, as the metaphor may be.
There is not a damned thing that is easy about this seemingly endless journey that is testing each and every one of us every damn day — to and often beyond our limits.
All of this is true. And so is it true that you are good enough, strong enough and smart enough to battle, struggle and strive your way through and back to your life at full strength. How ever ugly it may look or difficult it may feel at the outset.
Your time to climb is up to you
Only you can know when you are ready. And please keep front of mind that asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Do seek support even when you are not sure you need it. We all need someone on our side — now, more than ever and in many ways we have never before imagined.
What my small feat and achievement reminded me is that I can.
I can embrace humility. I can let my struggle look however it looks. I can stay within my limits and still press into and expand my capacity to ultimately reclaim my full strength.
One stroke, one step, one success at a time. With patience, persistence and self acceptance you can too.
May you find your way onto and up the mountains that serve to awaken and revive your body, mind and soul.
Here’s to Your Life, at Full Strength… Once again.
Q: I’d love to know what your greatest challenge has been in maintaining peak health and strength during this trying time. If you care to engage I’d appreciate your sharing in the comments below.
