Here I am once again, in this space between a recent injury and freedom. The questions arise. Why now? How bad is it? I knew right away it was not that bad, but still..
And exactly one week before nationals. Did I start pushing too hard? My runs for the contest were complete, I practiced them enough. That Saturday I rode for an hour, took a break, then another one hour session. Was that too much?
And it was quite a simple trick, I’ve done it thousands of times. Well not really this year, but in the past. Just one for the soul, it was big, I landed, then snap – my knee hyperextended slightly. Not as bad as the last time, but enough to kick me out.
Two years and three months passed between the last significant injury for me, and it has been a blast. Progressing slowly, riding all the time, playing tennis, skiing and snowboarding all winter. Training a lot, running, building strength, getting more and more confident about my body.
Going into the unknown
I thought a lot about pushing it further, actually landed a couple new tricks this year, small ones though. But can I push more, go for some bigger new ones perhaps? Can I trust myself fully again, really not think at all before going into the unknown.
Because that is the best feeling in the world. Doing something new, creating, building. For my obsession with wakeboarding, how good would it feel to land a major new trick again, or five for that matter?
Thinking about the risk of going into the unknown, is it worth it? Hell yeah! But how much? What is the accepted amount of risk I can take, to feel the rush, to feel alive, and not go too far over the edge?
Well in this case, I did not even go into the unknown. And that bothers me a bit. In fact, these injuries almost exclusively happen on something simple. In most cases, something stupid.
I was not tired, I was ready. I did not overtrain the day before, I did my morning movement routine, cold shower, breath work & all. Warmed up before the first session, stretched in between, and before the second session.
Did not push too hard, it was not something new. So WHY? ;))
Interruptions & setbacks
I have a theory. And after years of injuries, this one has become pretty strong.
Athletes get injured. People get sick. Life finds different ways to interrupt us.
I don’t necessarily believe these things happen because we’re doing something wrong. But I’ve started to wonder whether sometimes an interruption arrives exactly when we need one.
When you’re moving at full speed, chasing the next goal, training, working and constantly looking ahead, there isn’t much space to question the direction.
Then suddenly, you can’t move forward. You’re forced to stop.
And in that space, questions start appearing.
What am I doing? Why am I doing it? Is this still where I want to go? What have I been neglecting? And if I couldn’t continue down the same path, where would I go instead?
Maybe setbacks aren’t always something we need to overcome as quickly as possible.
Sometimes they’re an opportunity for a course correction.
A forced moment to sit back, think, reassess, and decide what deserves our energy when we start moving again.
Injury → Rehab → Empty space → ?
There is the initial WTF and WHY in the beginning. Then we start the rehabilitation process, perhaps even find meaning in it, and progress for a while.
We want the process to go as fast as possible.
I want to move again. Get back to my sports. Do all the things that make me feel alive. Get back on the water as soon as possible, and challenge myself again through the activities I love so much.
But that might not be the point right now.
Ten days since the injury, I am feeling better. I don’t feel pain in my knee anymore. I could extend it 100% on Day 3, I can bend it way past 90 degrees now. Yeah the back of the knee is swollen a bit, my calf as well. But I can walk without a limp.
I learned foiling two weeks ago, that was awesome. Genuinely feeling like a child again, complete beginner.
Should I bring my foil with me this weekend? It seems reasonably safe right?
Had two training sessions with friends this morning. When I train with friends, I do a lot of the workout myself as well. Don’t want to upset my calf and knee too much, but I can do core and upper body strength.
So I pushed a bit harder and it felt fucking great! Releasing some of this built up tension from ten days of mostly rest & stillness.
Finding balance between pushing and letting go
The first couple days after injury are all about letting go. Letting go of fears, wrestling with questions, trying not to overthink the worst case scenarios.
Do I have internal bleeding in my knee? How bad is the injury? Should I go and see a doctor? I really don’t want to, but what if..
How does this setback connect to my story, my self, the overall story in my life? What can I learn from this?
Also! What does letting go actually mean?
This question keeps coming back. I suppose I am getting closer to an idea of what it means. Every time it changes a bit too, upgrades.
The closest I got to the answer is, letting go of the need to control when and how it happens.
Yes, it is a classic explanation from buddhism, yoga, learning about the TAO, or even thinking about Flow. But one thing is knowing it. Another is understanding. Feeling the meaning behind it.
We never really are going to find out what Letting go means. At least until our last breath I suppose.
Empty space
There is a strange empty space that appears when something that normally gives us life structure, challenge and meaning is suddenly taken away.
Our instinct is to fill that space as quickly as possible.
Push harder. Find another goal. Make a comeback plan.
But perhaps there is something valuable in Being empty for a while. Feeling numb almost. Not trying to find an answer to all our questions. Just being. Present.
That is the best way to describe how I felt these past ten days, numb. Not all the time, just in the spaces in between.
The first couple days, between different levels of pain. Coming home after watching the national championships this weekend. After spending time with friends, sitting by myself at home. Before sleep, trying to imagine my recovery.
The comeback isn’t linear
Coming back from an injury is a journey. I am starting to believe it is more psychological than it is physical.
We go through the initial rehab first. Work through movement obstacles, restore range of motion, rebuild muscle and gradually expose the body to greater demands.
But all along the way, the psychological part is essential.
We don’t just rebuild tissue and strength. We’re continuously updating our perception of what our body is capable of and how much we trust it.
And that perception can change from one day to the next. One day something feels great and confidence shoots up. So we push a little further.
The next morning something feels strange. Did I do too much? Am I making it worse? Is this normal? Should I back off?
Then two days later everything feels good again and suddenly we’re thinking about what else we could do.
Progress. Doubt. Confidence. Fear. Excitement. Another setback, before another breakthrough.
There is no clean line from injured to recovered. And perhaps that’s one of the hardest parts. We want certainty from a process that constantly asks us to operate without it.
At some point you have to start trusting the body again. But when? How much discomfort is part of rebuilding, and when is it a warning?
I love this quote from one of my favourite therapists Nežka Poljanšek: “You have to rebuild your relationship with pain. Push and go further, as long as the pain feels good.”
And the second one is: “You are healed completely, when you forget about the injury”. And this one is true.
Every time, after going through this whole process, there comes a day when I suddenly realise: “I haven’t thought about the injury in weeks.”
And from here, I can really start building something again!
