ACL

“There goes my head.”

/ Jess / 4 Comments

When I was about 11 my uncle introduced me to the world of The Far Side, and I was never the same. My little tween brain couldn’t grasp the fact that one square drawing could be so damn funny, and I usually ended up laughing until I cried after just a few pages of the anthology books he got me for my birthday that year.

While I’ve got plenty of favorites, one comic stuck with me through the years and has gained a LOT of relevance for me in the past year. When I first saw it, I didn’t quite understand what made it so funny – I’d heard people who had previous surgeries talk about their random bits “acting up” with humid weather or snow storms, but what did I know? I was 11 and had all my factory-original parts.

All I knew was that this comic had a direct line to my funny bone. Behold:

Imagethat potato head is pure comedy gold. ask any eleven year old.

Fast forward to this past year, which has found me dealing with all manner of aches & pains thanks to this new ACL. For the past 48 hours, it has been pouring rain here in New Jersey. I mean pouring. Humid, disgusting, cold miserable rain. Which has prompted my knee to figuratively turn into a weather balloon of anger, willing the rain to stop with each throb.

Before my knee surgery, I never understood the “bionic human barometer” thing. Now, I stand (limp) before you as living proof.

I guess I can thank God it’s not my head though.

How about you – can you predict the weather with any body parts? Do tell! And if it’s your face, I want pictures.

Race Recap: Asbury Park Half Marathon

/ Jess / 10 Comments

This weekend I ran my first half marathon since tearing my ACL in mile 12 of my last one back in October 2012. And it couldn’t have been a better day if I had scripted it!!

My day started out with a bit of anxiety: after 18 months of no running/racing in major races, I had some serious stress dreams about getting to the start. So when 5:30 rolled around I woke up ready but not necessarily rested. I did my usual pre-run routine (coffee, peanut butter bread, half banana, bathroom), and once I slapped some eyebrows on (gotta look good for the race photographer!), I taped up my knees and got dressed, sticking with the tank and shorts & throwing my running rain jacket on at the last minute.

After a quick 25-30 minute drive, we got to the boardwalk and easily found parking – a huge bonus in my book! I was so nervous & couldn’t stop talking in circles – poor Mike kept talking me down, and finally he gave me a look that said he was considering using the KT tape from my knees to cover my mouth, and I kept my insecurities to myself. Bless his heart.

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Fig. 1: a terrified runner

We milled around at the start, waiting in the semi-ridiculous port-a-potty line and acclimating to the cold wet weather, when the sun broke through the clouds, causing a huge burst of applause from the crowd. That’s when I called an audible, took the jacket off, and lined up for the start.

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Fig. 2: terrified runner, faking optimism

The gun went off and after the usual jostling at the start, we were on our way! As I crossed the timing pad, “Born to Run” blared from a nearby radio station tent and I couldn’t help but smile. Asbury Park, Bruce Springsteen, the Jersey Shore, the gritty boardwalk, the finish at the Stone Pony: this race was made for me! I own this! It’s funny how one song can turn your mood around entirely 🙂

So, with my confidence soaring, I settled into a nice easy, conservative 11:30-12:00 min/mile pace and smiled the whole first 2 miles, listening to other runners near me at the back of the pack chatting happily and joking about how they only had “5 more hours to go!” These were my people!

We passed hungover hipsters watching us from the doorways of diners, couples walking their dogs, people getting coffee – it was a gorgeous spring Saturday morning and I felt like I could go forever. We did a nice slow loop around the lake and back along the boardwalk where we got a nice boost from the crowd that still lingered there – and I even got to snag an extra good luck kiss from Mike!

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Fig. 3: Happy runner 🙂

Miles 3-5.5 went one way out and miles 5.5-7 passed us in the other direction. It was motivating to pass the faster runners and snag some high-fives to power through. I stopped at the water station at 5.5 for a stretch and some water, then took some almonds and peanut butter M&M’s for energy (gels cramp my stomach) a bit later at 1:07. But I realized too late – I had no water! I mis-timed my stop and found myself jogging with a dry mouth full of paste (that tasted like smoked almonds and chocolate, ugh). I asked a nearby course volunteer where the next water station was and while she didn’t know, she magically reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny bottle of water for me! I heard angels and saw the skies open up above her, and thanked her about 20 times as I jogged away, recharged.

The last 3rd of the race was along the boardwalk the entire way, and as we ran back past the start/finish area I found Mike one last time and smiled, for the camera, but I knew the rest of this race was going to be tough.

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powering through

I felt a little bit of fatigue, and looked forward to my planned walk breaks at Mile 10. Just after I passed Mike though, a tiny figure in a neon pink sweatshirt came out of the crowd right before the Casino pier and ran straight for me, screaming, “Jess! Yeah Jess GO!” – it was my friend Tina! I had totally forgotten that she was coming! I was grateful for the chance to stop and hug her, but she (being a seasoned runner with 7 [SEVEN!!] marathons under her belt) knew that if I stopped I wouldn’t start again. So she kept pace with me for about 50 yards, “You’re doing great! How are you feeling? How’s your knee? Can I get you anything at the finish?” I kept running. All I could get out was fragments: “I’m great! 5 and a half to go, knee is awesome, thanks but I’m good!” She trailed off just as I went through the abandoned pier, “Alright, we’ll be there at the finish, you’ve got this!!” I gave her a thumbs up and once I was inside the pier, I found myself sobbing.

I was so overwhelmed with the whole experience – I was running with my new ACL, on track to beat my old time, and here was this friend I completely didn’t expect and needed just at the right moment. I mean come on, no one understands a runner better than another runner. I heard my goofy sobs echoing around the empty pier – then realized that she was probably still only a few yards behind me, dummy, pull yourself together and run your ass off!

So run I did, and started to melt down around 10.5. The boardwalk was an unforgiving surface to run on, and my thin compression socks offered little in the way of cushioning. At every step I could feel every bump and nail in the boards under my feet. My good knee throbbed with every step, but as long as I alternated between jogging and walking, I was good.

I kept an eye on my watch, with my time to beat at 2:56; That was when I crossed the finish line after tearing my ACL in the AC Half. Even if I made it in at 2:55 I would call it a win. So when I passed mile 12 and saw 2:40 on the clock, I panicked. If I walked it at 15 mins/mile, I wouldn’t make it. I’d have to push. So I did.

And just as I came over the last bridge at mile 12.85, there was another friend – Bill. I pointed at him as I jogged towards him, as he stood there smiling at me, waiting to run me in. I had nothing left to give at this point; even speaking was impossible. I felt so bad – I couldn’t answer any of his questions, or even explain to him that I was so close to my time goal because I couldn’t breathe enough to say it!

And honestly, I hadn’t even said my goal out loud, ever. Saying it felt too real. If I came in after 2:56 I couldn’t bear the thought of having to hear everyone tell me, “Well you still did great!”.

So I speed walked, I jogged, and there was Tina and her boyfriend Joe, again at mile 13. This time she snapped a pic of me:

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I was laughing, yes – but I think hallucinating too.

I just had to make it up to the boardwalk and sprint the last .1 to finish. I said screw it and just RAN – I’m not even sure of that final pace – but when I could make out the numbers on the finish clock and saw 2:53, I burst into tears. I simply couldn’t hold the emotion in any longer, and crossed that finish line at 2:53:44, sobbing and wheezing.

When I cleared the finishers chute, I found Mike and could only make out the words “I beat my time!” before dissolving into full-on sobs. I hadn’t even told him about my goal, and I didn’t even have the oxygen to do so now! But he knew.

Tina and Bill joined us, for hugs and photos and chatting – it was amazing.

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Triumphant Runner 🙂

I felt like I was vibrating. I still do! It was an amazing experience and I enjoyed every moment of it. I left it all on the course and wouldn’t have done it any other way. This race was more than just a race, it proved to me that I could see something through to the end successfully. I guess when it comes to half marathons, my third time was really the charm 😉

The only negative things I can say had to do with the finish and expo/t-shirt pickup situation. When we all parted ways, I realized that I needed water, and maybe a banana or something. I was shaking and my legs were near giving out. But all they had available on the boardwalk near the finish were plastic cups of water – if I wanted anything else I had to walk about a half mile back into town off the boardwalk to the “expo” in a school gymnasium (where they were also giving out race t-shirts). Now, I’d just run 13.27 miles. That unpaved field I had to cross to get to the expo may as well have been made of lava and filled with crocodiles. I still remember standing at the corner, looking at the expo sign in the distance and asking Mike for a piggy-back ride because I couldn’t fathom walking that far!

But even with that, I’d give the Asbury Park Runapalooza about a B+. The expo was cute, the tech shirts are fun orange long sleeve shirts, and I even got a free leg massage after the race! This is definitely a race I can see myself returning to year after year!

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How about you? Did you race this weekend? I want to hear all about it!

Extra, Extra! I’m RunInspired’s New Homepage Feature Story!

/ Jess / 4 Comments

Just a quick update today – and a warm welcome to anyone who has stumbled upon JessRunsHappy thanks to my exciting feature at RunInspired! I was honored when they asked me to share my weight loss and running story, and couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out. And it’s an even bigger honor to be their new homepage feature story!

Go check it out and let me know what you think. 🙂

You can also follow RUNspiration on Facebook for other features and daily motivation – check them out and happy running!

Grateful

/ Jess / Leave a comment

It’s really starting to sink in that I’m running a half marathon in a little over one month. And I can’t lie – I am terrified! 

So I’ve kicked my training into high gear, but it’s a double edged sword. I’ve incorporated a bit of cross training into every day and it’s already paying dividends. But the funny thing about training with this new knee is that I’m constantly walking the line between “is this pain from a new injury?” and “I need to train harder to make sure I don’t get injured again.” It’s a constant struggle – I sometimes take a day to rest between runs because I’m afraid of hurting my knees, but after that day off I worry that I won’t be trained enough for this race and will therefore tear my ACL again and need another year of rehab.

What can I say, sometimes it’s hell inside my head.

At times.

BUT… there are plenty of things I can do besides my training to ensure that I succeed. I can visit my orthopedist to have him take a look at both knees for good measure. I take my glucosamine every day. I skip heels at work in lieu of flat shoes that don’t tax my joints. I sleep with my knee brace on after a tough workout, to avoid twisting it in my sleep. I’ve picked up KT tape (and found that it’s a miracle!)

kt

seriously, what is this stuff made of, unicorn hide?

Tonight, I also realized the power of simply being grateful.

Let me explain: I had a 2 mile run on the training plan and got it in, even pushed the pace towards the end, but felt a few twinges in my good knee so I stopped at 2.5 miles. But instead of ending my workout there, I moved to a stationary bike and told myself to give it hell for one full mile with a level 4 difficulty. I worked it out on the bike throughout my physical therapy and remember pumping my fists in victory when I hit a 10 minute mile, so imagine my surprise when I hit a mile in 4:15!

Jazzed up from setting that new PR, I grabbed a Bosu ball and banged out a few sets of triceps dips, balance push-ups and squats then ended with a nice stretch. That’s when I realized that every little thing I do in addition to my running now is helping to prepare me for this race. I may be worried about taking a day off from running, but while I trained for my last race, I skipped cross training entirely – and paid dearly for it with a torn ACL! Now, I’m smarter. And with every extra rep, squat, and curl, I’m making myself stronger.

As I stretched I stared at my legs and felt an immense wave of gratitude wash over me. Sure, they ache and they’ve given me a lot of trouble in the past 18 months, but I am so thankful for these legs. They’ve come a long way in my 30 years, and I can’t wait to see where they take me next.

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a runner, from top to bottom

And I’m also grateful for my brain – along with those tree trunk legs, the positive thinking I cling to during my training is what’s going to truly get me across that finish line. Sometimes I get a little (okay, a lot) wrapped up in the crazy rabbit hole of negative self-talk and doubt, but all I need to do to silence that is picture myself crossing that finish line with two solid legs and a smile on my face.

So tell me: what are YOU grateful for? What have you gone through to get you where you’re at today? Whether you’re just starting or a seasoned veteran, you’ve got to be thankful for something – let’s share the love!

Change Your World

/ Jess / Leave a comment

After last night’s post about my favorite running store (and my great experience there last week), I have a quick update to share.

In my time at the store during last week’s party, I got to chatting with the fit expert and her co-worker while I was trying on my magical sneakers. One of the managers caught wind of my story and asked me to share it on camera as part of their “Change Your World” video series.

The store has asked people to share their inspirational running stories with the world in the hopes that our journies might inspire someone else to sign up for that ultra marathon, make the leap into their first 5K, or even lace up to start with. I think it’s a great idea but I can’t lie – going from being the girl that used to say I wouldn’t run unless I was being chased to having a running store manager tell me that my story is inspiring is enough to put stars in my eyes.

So, without further ado, I present to you what happens when you give me free green beer and combine my favorite holiday with my favorite hobby, then put me in front of a camera:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tlxs0NGwJ2s

I do wish I’d taken the bobble ears off. But other than that, I regret nothing 😉

Training Post-ACL Reconstruction

/ Jess / 4 Comments

I used to run through my aches and pains and told myself it made me a tougher runner. It turns out I was injuring myself even more. With each mile I logged, the tiny tears in my left ACL grew and grew, leaving me vulnerable to the nearly-full tear I experienced at Mile 12 of the Atlantic City Half Marathon in October 2012.

The resulting surgery and therapy -and the 9 months off from running while it healed- gave me the chance to work with orthopedists and physical therapists to learn all about my body and how to take care of it. They introduced me to an arsenal of tools to help keep my knee, and the rest of my joints, healthy and happy through the miles:

tools of the trade

disclaimer: I’m not a doctor or expert, but these are all magic.

TENS Unit: This was a gift from the running gods, let me tell you. When I started physical therapy after my surgery, my therapist put the pads on my thigh to stimulate the muscles and basically bring them to life again. I was given my own machine for use at home (thank you, health insurance!!), and was shown how to use it for pain management too. It was magic – there were still the usual post-surgery pains, but I could move around the house a lot easier while the pads were on and “buzzing”. Eventually the TENS became a part of my every day routine – 20 minutes on the bad knee at the end of the day to relax and revive the muscles, with ice & a quick massage. Now, 13 months after the surgery, I still use these puppies on my bad knee after a tough run or long day on my feet – hell, I even use it on my good knee too, to ease the usual overuse pains it’s developed with the extra pressure it had to take on while the bad knee healed. It’s like a little package of magic, and I don’t know what I’d do without it!

Ice: Even on the coldest days, I’ll ice up after a run if I’ve felt any little pinches or pops during my run. It’s a simple way to calm down any inflammation I may have, whether it’s because of a hilly run or a humid day (thanks to the surgery, I’m one of those people whose knees swell in even a tiny bit of humidity).

Glucosamine Chondroitin: AKA Osteo-Bi-Flex or any of the popular Glucosamine tablets you can find in the pharmacy. These are expensive, but I take them every day because I can feel an obvious difference if I don’t! My orthopedist didn’t want to do surgery immediately. Instead, he gave me these pills for 6 weeks, had me do daily strengthening exercises, and let the swelling go down. In my case, surgery turned out to still be necessary, but I’m convinced that these pills (along with the strengthening exercises that I still do to this day) helped me get stronger and made it possible for me to bounce back from surgery as quickly as I did.

Now, here’s the key: these are just tools. They only work if I put in the hard work and *train* with them! Strength training has been a HUGE part of the recovery process for me, as we determined it was the lack of training that got me here in the first place! I neglected to build up my leg muscles and only focused on mileage while I trained for my race, and that (combined with my family history of weak knees) spelled disaster for me at Mile 12.

Now that I know how to take care of and listen to my body, training post-ACL reconstruction is a lot of work, but it’s not impossible. If you’ve had an injury, how do you cope with it in your training? Have you ever used a TENS unit? What are your thoughts on glucosamine? Tell me all about it in the comments!

Winter Running Motivation

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Here in New Jersey, we are in the throes of a bitch of a winter. There is no nice way to put it – that crotchety old man winter has us over his bony knee and he is spanking the hell out of us, over and over and over again. Now that I’ve put *that* horrible image in your head, please accept this photo of a kitten reading a bedtime story to make up for it.

I can’t promise I won’t do it again though.

I can’t promise I won’t do it again though.

As runners, we know that these polar vortexes and deep freezes just make us more resilient. Mentally and physically, we grow stronger with each slippery step. But at a certain point, even the toughest runner has to throw their hands up in the air and cry uncle.

so much ugh.

so much ugh.

I’m sure there are more seasoned, harder runners that may look at this path and think “HA! You can still see blacktop, that’s nothing! -15 degrees with 20mph wind gusts? Child’s play! 2 inches of fresh fallen snow? Nothing like it. Bring it on!” If that’s you, I tip my hat to you. You’re a tough cookie! I, on the other hand, am more like a wad of unbaked dough with a brand new ACL. My ass is not taking a risk on unstable ground, especially not after a year of rehab and physical therapy to get that new knee back in working order.

I managed to slip and wipe out 3 times in a half a mile on that icy path you see in the picture above before getting so frustrated that I screamed at the top of my lungs, punched a snowdrift, and trudged through another half mile of 8 inch-deep snow back to my car. To say that I hate the winter is an understatement.

But, as a runner, I have to find a way to get those miles in. Much like many of you probably did, I signed up for a spring race to keep me active through these frigid months. The biggest challenge I’ve faced is finding the motivation to do just that.

I’ve explored lots of different motivational tactics. Some are really effective, and others… well, let’s just say sleeping in your workout clothes to get out the door easily for an early morning run just makes it harder to get *out* of bed because the blankets are that much warmer when you’re wearing running shorts.

Here are some of my favorite motivational things to get pumped up for a workout when I’ve got about three pounds of Valentine’s Day chocolate in the cabinet 10 feet away from me, and about 5 inches of perma-frost outside just waiting to slip me up:

1. New gear – sometimes you just have to embrace your inner mallrat and shop for inspiration! Admit it. A run just feels easier when you’re wearing a badass new tank with parrots on it.

parrots.

yes, parrots.

2. Switching it up at the gym – or even joining a gym in the first place! After 4 years of embracing the streets and the living room as my workout spaces, I finally bit the bullet and re-joined a traditional gym this winter, and I couldn’t be happier. Knowing that I can disappear in a warm room filled with every kind of workout equipment known to man for as long as I want – there’s nothing like it.

3. New music – When those long runs are breathing down my neck (these days, mostly on the treadmill too), I take to Facebook or Google to find a batch of 5-10 new songs to mix up my running playlist. This recent find turned out to be an awesome middle-of-the-run “get it done” song that I find myself replaying over and over again:

4. Involving a friend – This one is my favorite! A month or two ago, I started going to our local Lululemon for free yoga classes on weekend mornings, and now I’m going with two other friends and having a blast! Knowing that one friend has been up since 4am taking care of her sick 4-year old and doing an Insanity workout before yoga? Yeah, I’ll do my damnedest to drag my hungover ass out of bed and meet her there. That’s motivation.

These are just a few of my favorite motivational tactics through these cold winter months. Do you have any other go-to’s? Instagram feeds, inspirational quotes, etc? Share the love in the comments!

ACL Surgery Part 3: Physical Therapy

/ Jess / 1 Comment

When we last left off, I was making my way through life post-ACL surgery recovery and having a rough time. But after a week of recovery, the doctor had me start an aggressive physical therapy plan that ended up improving not just my knee but my whole self.

I went to A&A Physical Therapy, a tiny little office I had passed probably hundreds if not thousands of times in my life – it was a small family-owned practice that my father highly recommended after having great experiences with them through his multiple knee and back surgeries.

I remember being hopeful – I couldn’t wait to get right into it and start moving that leg, get on that treadmill and see the miles per hour number climb back up to 6 and 7 like before. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening! That first day, all we did was massage the leg and assess the situation before sending me on my way. I hobbled out of the office after an hour, feeling kind of let down. This was going to be a lot more work than I thought it would be.

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my first day in therapy, not on the set of a new Hostel sequel.

On Day 2, my therapist asked me to tense my quad muscle and I stared at my leg, willing it to tighten, only to find the whole leg dead. It was like the muscles had dissolved! They were completely numb; I had no strength. Three times a week I found myself laying on that table, focusing on each muscle and every tendon. Small movements – tiny, almost imperceptible! – but they caused huge pain and huge payoff. My mantra became “Do today what you couldn’t do yesterday, and do tomorrow what you couldn’t do today.” After a month, I was on the treadmill at one mile an hour and crying tears of happiness when I graduated to using one crutch.

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first, the treadmill… next, the WORLD!

Where I found physical victories, I could also see mental improvements too. Being out of work for so long was like hitting my mind’s Reset button. Going through my days focusing solely on healing brought me a new inner peace – each day I found new gratitude for something else, whether it was the fact that I could lift my leg into the shower without blinding pain or the fact that the sun was out and the weather was 10 degrees warmer and I could open the windows and breathe fresh air.

Soon, I came to love it at therapy! I grew there. I thought there and healed there. Each little step made me realize that I was capable of so much more than I previously thought, as long as I kept that positive attitude.

They say to be truly happy with yourself, find a memory of yourself at your most relaxed, happy, and perfect. Whether it’s on a beach during your honeymoon or under a tree as a child, find that one place where you remember being perfectly content, and remember that that person STILL exists inside of you.

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there was a *lot* of time for selfies in therapy. don’t judge.

Through the recovery process, I found that person. When things get stressful now, I think back to being strapped into that CPM machine on the couch, watching Frasier and Dinosaurs. Or driving from therapy and singing along to Robyn’s “Call Your Girlfriend”. Or hobbling into my favorite pizza place up the street on the first nice day of March and singing along to the Ramones on the radio while I waited for my lunch.

I especially remember that day – after I ate, I stopped by my parents’ house down the street and found my father cleaning out the basement. It took me 5 minutes to get down the stairs, but once I was down there, it was worth it. He had found a whole cabinet filled with mementos from me: he had kept every drawing I ever did for him, every handmade father’s day card, even the ones I made when I was 12 or 13 and knew I was growing out of the usual “Dear Daddy” stuff. He kept every Citizenship Award, every meaningless honor roll certificate I got in grade school – he had folders of them all, lovingly labeled and stored.

I don’t know if I can ever express how much that morning meant to me. Even now when I think about it, my heart swells and I get kind of choked up. But that’s my moment – when I felt perfectly content and happy and grateful and alive. That’s when I realized that I am truly lucky.

In fact, I’m the luckiest person I know. All because I tore my ACL at mile 12 of the 2012 Atlantic City Half Marathon.

ACL Surgery Part 2: Post Surgery Adventures

/ Jess / 2 Comments

So if you’re following my surgery story, when we last left off I had just been knocked out.

The next thing I remember was hearing the chatter of the two nurses in the recovery room and the beeping of my heart monitor. I heard them talking about the tattoo on the back of my neck. One loved it, while the other one thought tattoos were tacky. I remember thinking “Wake up and fight her!” What can I say: even drugged I want to defend my body ink.

I tried to open my eyes but can’t, and the heart monitor started beeping quickly; too quickly. I heard their voices: “It’s OK, just try to sleep sweetie!” OK, I thought. But soon I heard a new voice – my doctor’s. I panicked – I should be awake for this! This is probably important stuff! I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. Again, the monitor beeps sped up, and I got anxious.

I later learned that my body was still under the effects of general anesthesia at that point, while my brain had woken up before my body could move. Fan-tastic! But, as my husband and father told me, the anesthesiologist simply knocked me back out for 3 hours to keep me from trying too hard to wake up (thus elevating my heart rate), and my loving husband and father decided to pass that time at the McDonald’s across the street. That’s love.

When I finally came out of it, I remember worrying that I’d be nauseous. You see, I’m equipped with quite possibly the most sensitive inner ear of any human ever. I can’t even check my Facebook in a moving car without needing a barf bag and a Dramamine. Thankfully, I was pretty OK as long as my head stayed stable.

When the nurses sat me up, I slowly came to and found I was in a big dark recovery room with a TV in front of me. The doctor came back in to show me a sheet filled with pictures of the inside of my knee as he explained what they meant. I was in and out: “80% torn”, “meniscus was fine”, “lots of little tears”, “patella graft”… “smurf hotel”? The one thing I was certain of was that the pictures looked like bloody sushi, and my gag reflex was alive and kicking.

The nurses jumped to action before the inevitable happened (bless them) by shoving an alcohol pad under my nose. What the pan-fried hell? They explained that the alcohol cuts the nausea and I was baffled. How? Was it a placebo? Science? Black magic?? All I know was that it WORKED. So I stole a handful of them and clutched them like Willy Wonka’s Golden Tickets.

They called my dad and husband in to help me – slowly – get dressed, into the wheelchair, and stretched out across the backseat of my husband’s Saturn Ion. Once I was home, hubby propped me up on the couch. The ultimate indignity came when he handed me a cowbell leftover from the race I tore my ACL in. “Ring it if you need me!” he said happily. Sure. I’ll jangle a cowbell that was last used to cheer me across the finish line of the race that put me in this position. Somewhere Alanis Morissette sensed a disturbance in the ironic force.

So we strapped me into my CPM (continuous passive motion) machine and cranked it up to 30 degrees flexion per the doctor’s orders. At this point I was feeling pretty damn awesome! I had a full ACL construction 6 hours earlier and I was already bending at 30 degrees? Who’s a rockstar?

Well, not me. Because after a few more hours, the anesthesia started to wear off and PURE FIRE shot through my body. I had to sleep on the couch for the first 48 hours because I couldn’t lift my leg into bed, but sleep became a mocking, distant memory. Two hours into my first night, I woke with shooting pains that ran from my left butt-cheek and down to the bottom of my foot – my leg was tired of being held at that angle for the past 12 hours, and the nerves were revolting as they woke up.

So I cried. Good lord, did I cry. I cried like a baby, that night, and the next day, and the day after that. It was true anguish. I still remember sobbing after a making it to the bathroom on my own the first day I was home alone, three days after surgery. What a production!

I had to disconnect my leg from the ice machine, unstrap from the CPM, manually move my dead leg off the side of the bed, maneuver into the crutches, and inch the 15 feet to the bathroom. Every movement meant searing pain. Bending at the waist forced a wave of pressure down my leg, while standing flooded my knee with fluid, making it feel like my kneecap would pop off. When I finally made it back to the bed, I couldn’t even muster the energy to lift my leg back into the CPM machine in bed.

Instead, I sat at the edge of the bed and sobbed fat, hot tears, openly and loudly, for almost a full 15 minutes. I rested my hands against the wall opposite me and let my head hang down – I never wanted to run again if it meant I might damage my ACL and have to go through this again. I could find no comfortable position in this world, and I never would, ever again.

But I did. Time and Oxy became my two best friends – each day I felt tiny, almost imperceptible improvements, but they added up. Plus the wild, vivid dreams I had on the Oxy kept me entertained too! No lie, I spent a whole night on the Hogwarts Express trying to find my trunk while my friends Ron and Harry chased me with a big orange cat. It was truly sublime.

As I got more sleep each night, I felt better. I worked up to 110 degrees flexion in 7 days, and physical therapy was around the corner. The point is, it did get better. Even though I had those dark moments where I felt like it would never heal, it did. I learned the true meaning of things like determination, stubbornness, and hard work – and physical therapy taught me even more.

Stay tuned for my next post on rehab and recovery!

In the meantime, do you have a surgery story of your own? Share in the comments!

ACL Surgery Part 1: Surgery Day

/ Jess / 4 Comments

A big part of my journey to health is my knee surgery – almost exactly one year ago, I had ACL reconstruction surgery after tearing the ligament at mile 12 of the 2012 Atlantic City Half Marathon. It’s a huge part of my story now, in that it’s taught me how to listen to my body, where to dig deep for true patience, and when to push myself beyond what I thought possible.

Now, I don’t plan on going in chronological order in this blog – I’ll do my best to tag and categorize if anyone wants to read about one part of the journey or another. But for now, let’s start with what’s still relatively fresh in my mind: the day of surgery.

I woke up early on January 29th, 2013. My appointment was for 1pm but of course I got there early. It was a sunny day, actually quite warm for the date. I remember seeing on the weather forecast that the next day (January 30th) would be the most unseasonably warm day yet. You know that one weird warm day you get every year in the dead of winter that reminds you that things are all going to be ok and you’ll make it through the winter after all? That was the 30th. But I had to get through the 29th to get there.

So at 11, my husband drove me into the surgical center and we walked in to find we were the only people in the waiting room. The kind woman standing behind the check-in window smiled as we walked in and asked, “Jessica?” Talk about service! Soon after I signed in and filled out a few forms, my father showed up for moral support. As it tends to do when he enters a room, everything around us seemed to swell with his presence. He always animates any space he’s in, my father. It’s nice.

After five short minutes of small talk, they called me in to change into my little gown and blue slipper socks, and popped a blue surgical hair cap over my head. I looked ridiculous. They put me in a big plastic arm chair in front of a tv hanging off the wall – King Arthur was on, with Clive Owen and Kiera Knightley – and reclined me and covered me in blankets. It was actually kind of nice. I was toasty. But I was alone.

One nurse came out and gave me a wrist band. Another told me she’d set me up with an IV. Then my surgeon came out. Dr. Ryan – he’s a reassuring presence for me. Through all my phone calls and questions he’s never lost patience or his serene smile. I relax when he’s there. He’s even had the procedure done himself, so that’s even better. Who better to have monitoring your recovery than someone who’s been through the same thing? Finally, the anesthesiologist came out and explained that I’d be entirely under, but would also have what they call a femoral nerve block, with 16-20 hours of numbness. Sweet!

After he left, it suddenly felt real. I had a pang of anxiety – I needed a familiar face. I asked a nurse if my husband could come in and they invited him in warmly. When he saw me, he smiled and reached for his phone to take a picture. I scolded him, having stared at the “NO CAMERAS” sign on the opposite wall for the last half hour. I kind of wish now that we’d broken that rule. I’d love to look back at my scared pale face in my stupid shower cap in my recliner.

We sat for a few moments but it went by WAY too fast – soon the little male nurse was there saying that I was ready. I didn’t want to say goodbye to my husband yet, but I had to. He took one simple silver ring that I forgot to take off, and my glasses. I was officially blind.

He kissed me and wished me luck, and helped me stand before going on his way. The little nurse wrapped me in my blanket and told me to carry it with me like a cape. I silently told myself to enjoy these steps, because they were the last I’d be taking for a while.

We walked down a few hallways and suddenly, boom; I was in an operating room. Like a full-on operating room with the big circular lights and hard metal table and freezing temperature. Oddly, Creedence Clearwater Revival was blasting on a stereo by the window where the shades were pulled tightly. Everything was blue. The anesthesiologist was there, and my surgeon, and the male nurse, and another female nurse.

The invited me to hop on the table – funny, I actually don’t remember the last step I took. Then there was buzzing activity all around me. The male nurse kept talking to me. Asking me how I was doing. Earlier that day, I told myself, “Don’t be chatty. You get chatty when you’re nervous. Just be quiet and go with it.” Now, I realized, I hadn’t been chatty at all. I guess when I’m truly nervous, I clam up. Because they kept asking me how I was doing, and all I could respond with was, “OK.” Or “Good.” Or “Still here.”

Finally, they gave me an IV. That’s where it gets really trippy. I remember every moment like it’s the present:

They tell me I’m not going to sleep yet. But I’m going to get warm and heavy and relaxed, and I’m going to taste metal for a moment. OK, I say. And sure enough, it all happens like they say.

I almost panic, but don’t want to. I worry that I’ll fall asleep before they can tell me they’re putting me out. I feel especially heavy and warm and tingly from my chest up. It’s as if I’ve been injected with hot, warm fuzz all around my lungs, neck, shoulders, and head. I feel like I should be tense, but I can’t muster the energy.

“How are you doing?” they ask. I want to respond, but everything’s slow. “Still here,” I start, but my words slur without me even trying. It’s like I’m in glue.

Next is the nerve block. The male nurse explains what he’s doing at every step of the way. This is just alcohol. This is iodine. This touch is just to prepare the area. This is the needle.

Suddenly – boom – my leg starts jerking around on the table. It’s an awesome feeling – I would laugh at it if I could, but I’m a melting wax figure. I smile to myself and stare at the pockmarked ceiling as it continues to jump. They’re talking to each other. “10, ok, here’s 10. Now let’s ease up to 15. 20. Ok, no, back to 15.” I want to care about what they’re saying, but I’ve got nothing. Nerves I didn’t even know I had are jumping in my leg, making the skin twitch and bounce. Right when they say it’s about to calm down, it does.

Now they’re ready. “OK, now here we go, we’re going to put you to sleep.” I slur, “OK.” But it sounds more like “ooogaayyy”.

The last thing I remember thinking was “Hurry – pick a rock star to run away with in your dreams! Ajay Popoff from Lit or Art Alexakis from Everclear?” then boom, I was out. I didn’t even have enough time to pick a man.

Next up: ACL Surgery Part 2: Post-Surgery and Recovery!