I was so nervous. I could feel the anxiety building all day.
1:00 pm finally came and I hopped in the car with my colleague and she drove us to a local mountain range. It took us about an hour through winding roads to get there. With every twist and turn, I thought I might seriously puke because of everything that was running through my mind:
I know that I have followed every stage of my recovery plan to the tiniest of details. I can walk 4 miles. I can climb stairs. I can handle walking up and down hills. I have all the skills I need. But...what was screaming at me above what I know that I can do, were the what ifs. What if I can't do it. What if my ankles are too weak. What if I trip and fall. What if I hurt myself. What if I cause the blinding pain to return.
When we arrived to the trails, I took out my trusty Bledsoe lace-up ankle braces and put them on. I also wore my Brooks stability shoes (the super awesome pink ones featured earlier on this blog). I wanted to make sure that I gave my feet their best possible chance of succeeding. I knew that they needed to be supported and protected.
Before I knew it, we were on our first trail. The first several minutes were just fine. We were following a relatively flat path through the woods. Then, I realized that I couldn't see flat ground forward anymore, of course because there was a drop off that had stairs upon stairs upon stairs to get down to the base. Not regular stairs. Uneven, differently spaced, rock stairs with no hand rails! My colleague was leading the way and eagerly pushing us forward.
She started down the stairs first. Then I followed. I learned pretty quickly that she isn't good at stairs. She has some knee issues and was struggling a bit. It didn't make me happy to see her struggle, but I was overjoyed that I wouldn't be totally killing the hike for her with my slow pace. I was actually better at going down stairs than she was. Those stairs to and from my 5th floor apartment that I have been practicing are really paying off.
When we got to the bottom, we found this gem:
Seeing this waterfall was definitely worth the struggle on the trail to get to it. When we were done taking pictures, we had to turn around and climb up all the stairs we had just come down. I focused my mind and took them one stair at a time, maintaining my pace. I was in a zone. I was going to get back up those stairs.
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| This is a picture of the start of the stairs that we had to climb up to get back to the trail. There were so many stairs that they couldn't all be captured in one photo. |
Here is another one of the waterfalls we saw:
And a picture of the most epic stairs we had to climb, which also happened to be on the last trail when my feet were tired...
All in all we hiked 4 trails (a little less than 4 miles in total), saw 5 waterfalls, and climbed too many stairs to count.
And it was AWESOME.
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Reflection
Seeing those waterfalls and hiking these trails was an incredible moment for me. First, I am so happy to be alive. To have survived two major surgeries. Second, I am proud of myself for taking a chance, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, WAAAY OUT, by agreeing to go on this hike. And most importantly, that I didn't just climb the trails, I CONQUERED them. I was fighting back tears for a good bit of the hike. It was an extremely emotional day for me; however, my new colleague doesn't know that much about my journey. So I didn't want to really let my emotions show. When I got home I just sat in awe.
It was the moment in my life when I realized that I am doing the impossible. The moment when I realized that going through two complete ankle reconstruction surgeries was totally worth it. The moment when I realized that I am not just walking again, I'm HIKING through ROUGH terrain.
Nothing was promised to me with these surgeries. In fact, I was told by more than one doctor that I would never run again. That I should find non-physical hobbies. That I should switch to yoga or girly group fitness classes or the elliptical for physical activity. All I was given was a chance that I may improve my condition. A small single shred of hope that I may live an active lifestyle again. I took a huge gamble by going through with the surgeries. Boy did I place the right bet. On my surgeon. On my physical therapists. On myself. It has taken COMMITMENT from every fiber of my being to get to this point. I have believed in myself through this entire journey, well except for a few days here and there (no one is perfect), and look at me now. The key to my success: I never let myself completely lose hope of achieving my goals.
Fight on caterpillars. Fight on!
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