I (k)need to be outside

We are creeping up on the year mark. My knee is still fucked. Three misdiagnoses later, nearly six weeks after that dreaded ER visit, my ortho asked, “When do you want to schedule your surgery?”

I froze. I was hoping for a brace, a few PT sessions, and to get back to the mountain. Damn, was I wrong.

It turns out I had dislocated my patella, fractured it, and torn my MPFL, a ligament I had never heard of. Tear that and your kneecap basically bails. Lucky me, I got a chip too.

It was soul crushing. My first summer living in Tahoe, only six months after moving back to the States, and I was benched. Swimming, hiking, snowboarding, all off-limits.

Fast forward past brutal healing and slow relearning how to walk, and I finally got cleared in January. Ten days on the mountain, a splitboarding day, and friends cheering me on. But one or two runs and the pain hit. Ice, tears, frustration.

Now, eleven months out, I am working with a trainer, tracking macros, exercising three times a week. I snowboard, hike, swim, rock climb, and surf. Still got miles to go, but here I am, doing what I can to get back.

I love my knees.