Mind Leaps

This post, I want to talk about recovery.

September 1st, 2024 was the last day of my hiking trip to the Rockies in Colorado. This trip had a main goal, which was to reach Sky Pond. The prior winter, my attempt was unsuccessful due to very strong wind and improper clothes. I was so ready this time in summer — got to the trailhead just past 4 to secure a parking spot, and as expected, we made it to Sky Pond.

Through the last couple of years of my short summer trips to the Rockies, I always like to end the last day with a relatively short hike in the Brainard Lake area. With lots of positive emotions from the Sky Pond hike, I decided to push further than what was previously planned. However, this decision caused a series of butterfly effects, starting from being late on the return. You can probably guess what followed — rushing, running down the mountain, and losing focus on the trail. I lost balance on loose gravel and sprained my ankle pretty badly while still being two hours away from the trailhead. With a flight departing in a couple of hours, I felt I had little choice but to rush through.

That sprain was particularly bad because it was the third sprain on the same ankle that year. I had no idea back then, though. Never thought I might not be able to get back to doing what I like on my feet in just a matter of weeks.

After returning home, once the swelling reduced, I tried to carry on with everything as usual — walking, running, everything. But this injury started to get to me slowly. I just couldn’t walk as I used to anymore. Serious compensations in my injured leg were starting to make a 10-minute walk not just difficult, but unbearably painful.

I first went to a podiatrist, who taped my ankle and told me ankle sprain would recover in 6–8 weeks. It didn’t. Then I went to an orthopedic surgeon, who eventually diagnosed me with chronic ankle instability. While I was recommended to try physical therapy first, the doctor cautioned me that he thought it was unlikely I wouldn’t need surgical intervention. The MRI showed multi-ligamentous injury of both inner and outer ankle.

With a slightly better understanding of where I stood, I started physiotherapy. What I found hardest through the process was the uncertainty — not knowing where I was or how far I was from functional recovery, or if recovery would be ever possible. I was constantly torn between surgery or continuing with physical therapy.

After 6 months, I “graduated” from physio. While I had gained significant strength, I was still very far from even walking spontaneously. My toes didn’t know how to push forward, my heel didn’t know how to bear weight, and my entire movement mechanics were compromised. By that point, even my healthy foot had lost track of how to walk the right way. I kept trying to make the two legs symmetrical, but it was futile and caused more pain on both sides.

My therapist told me he didn’t think physical therapy could help me anymore.

I wasn’t sure if I was actually close to getting back to normal, so I stayed hopeful that maybe if I continued to train on my own, I would sooner or later get there. 

Five months later, I still didn’t get there. My injured leg still lagged behind the healthy one. Walking for more than 30 minutes would lead to completely locked muscles that took me out for weeks before I could walk again.

After numerous mental debates on reconsidering surgery or trying something else, I decided on impulse to try physio again, with a different provider. However, I was so afraid that my recovery journey had plateaued without surgical intervention.

The new round of physiotherapy started after over a year of my injury. More challenging balance drills, calf strengthening, and diverse challenges given to my ankle seemed to slowly push the needle again. Slowly, that feeling of my ankle being disconnected started to fade. My foot was able to push me forward again. I could carry a heavy backpack and storm through an airport with confidence. I also restarted running training. At some point, I truly started to feel that I could get there. 

Over 1.5 years into my injury, my two sides are still not 100% coordinated and I still have some way to go, but I can finally say with confidence that the path I chose was right for me, and I probably can get to the finish line I had been hoping for, one day.

As I sometimes reflect through this winding road, it really taught me two very important things:

1. Biology is powerful and body can build, rebuild and recover, even when the path is unclear and you’re not sure how far along you are or whether you’ll ever get there. 

2. Even if you don’t fully trust yourself, hold a space in your heart with where you think you should be. That way even if you’re told you’ve hit a ceiling, even if you might derail because you can’t see through the fog, that space and some voice inside you will pick you up again. At that point, you will realize that you can go farther than you thought.