Eight weeks later

Eight weeks since I have received a new hip. Fifty-six days of constant reminders that my body is no longer the way it was. Eighteen physical therapy sessions and counting. One hundred miles on the spin bike in my living room. Less than twenty-four hours before flying to Utah to officiate a race. Really.

That's my current life. I'd be lying if I weren't to acknowledge those dark moments, usually at night, when things were and are tough. The realization that my life has changed rather significantly has slowly sunk in, but I am hopeful that some of these changes can be mitigated and others may actually not be permanent. Hope is better than despair.

There have been so many small milestones and triumphs that felt larger than life: The first time I locomoted around my block with the help of my walker, one slow step at a time. The first time I ditched the walker for a four-legged cane for said walk. Graduating from cane to alpine walking stick. The first two-mile walk. The first time around the block without any walking aid. Getting in and out of the truck and driving around the block. Going to the grocery store without Beth's help, driving myself. No longer relying on friends to take me to PT. The first time being able to sit on a spin bike and actually complete a full circle, at Carol's house. Riding the first mile on Les' spin bike in my living room. Then five. Then twelve. Hanging up laundry. Mowing the lawn. Raking leaves. 

Over these past two months I have spent more time watching stuff on a television screen than I ever have. Reading is not as comfortable or easy in the recliner, and the issues of unread The New Yorker magazines are piling up. Things take longer, take more energy, are just tougher to accomplish. Still, the progress has been remarkable, and my PT is elated. I keep pushing. "How many reps, Mike?" "Thirty." "OK, thirty-five it is." 

This weekend's UCI mountain bike race in the beautiful Heber Valley south of Park City, Utah, will be my first step back into that part of my life. I am cautiously optimistic that I will be up to my assigned role of Assistant PCP. I know the venue, I know all the other officials, and I know many of the local staff we will be working with. I am mobile enough to not worry about flying to Salt Lake tomorrow, especially since I'll be traveling with just my carry-on. Still, it'll be a big step toward normalcy, but I am ready to tackle it.

Jürgen