Recovery Road

It's been about five weeks since I broke my clavicle and four weeks since it was surgically repaired. I'm feeling a little better and stronger each day and I'd like to think the worst is behind me. Though that's partially true (in that the pain of the break itself and the post-op period was intense) I know I've got a long way to go before I'm back to full strength.

These last couple of weeks have been extremely hard for me and I'll admit to having spent some time in a very dark place.  I'm not one for a "pity party" (and though I know it was only concern) it was tough for me to accept all the text messages and phone calls that I knew were only associated with my calamity.  Not being able to exercise AT ALL has been the biggest challenge and I've been left with a tremendous amount of extra energy.  For better or worse I damn near cut myself off from anyone with whom I associate exercise and resigned myself to self pity rather than hopeful optimism.  I've come to realize that those who I was cutting off are the folks who care most about me and have come to grips with my current level of inactivity.

As I progressed through my recover I was able to begin taking my arm out of its hefty brace when I was in a "controlled environment.  Last week though I attended the national trade show for my company in Washington DC.  Due to the quantity of people there I had no choice but to keep my arm in the brace both for protection against the crowds and to prevent undue strain on my muscles while I was on my feet. To say my brace was an eyesore and an attention magnet is an understatement; rather it was an albatross and an all too frequent conversion piece. While I'm lucky that my "good" side (I'm left-handed) is healthy, my bum wing made it difficult to shake hands in the typical fashion. Instead I set out as a one man crusader instituting the 21st century left-handed shake; I must admit that watching people decide whether to turn their hand inside out, give me a pound, or simply shake it lefty was more than mildly entertaining.

The show was a neat experience but was without a doubt exhausting and I'm not used to getting so tired from doing so little. On top of the fatigue, by the end of the day I was just hurting.

Being away also meant sleeping somewhere other than my recliner for the first time in weeks. In my hotel room I created a faux-recliner crafted of every pillow the room had to offer and more. My masterpiece was less than comfortable and sadly I was salivating at the idea of a night's sleep back on the couch.

From the time I first learned of the severity of my injury I knew my recovery would be a process and I approached it with a positive outlook. Maintaining my positivity has been more challenging than I expected and these past few weeks have been among the hardest of my adult life. Each day I remind myself that things will get better and my body will get stronger. I am itching to start physical therapy (as soon as the good Doc gives me the green light); though the pain and discomfort won't be fun, I know that I'll welcome the pain that comes along with PT because it is part of the rebuilding. As I reminded myself repeatedly during IM training: no pain, no gain.

Post-Op

In the weeks since my injury I've probably read every internet article, forum thread, or blog post the Internet has to offer on the subject of broken clavicles and surgical repair. I'm more convinced than ever that the decision to operate was the right one.

My surgery was performed by Dr. Joshua Dines, who was actually recommended by the first doctor (who suggested waiting a little bit before going the surgical route) I saw. From the first exam with Doc Dines I was instantly impressed and there was no doubt he'd be my surgeon. He was confident that surgery was the answer and that over time I will make a complete recovery.

The operation was performed at the Hospital for Special Surgery on February 19. I've got to tip my hat to all the nurses, doctors, and volunteers for making the day as stress-free as possible. The facility is top notch and I knew I was in good care.

Titanium-Man

Due to my less than Iron-manly workout schedule and the infrequency of my blog posts I'd been queuing up a post about my winter "tribernation." I'll shelve that one for now in lieu of current events.

 

Last week's snow storm brought heaps of the white stuff (over two feet in my neighborhood) and with it my first opportunity to dust off my snowboard and hit the slopes. After shoveling my way out of the house I was picked up and headed to Hunter Mountain with a couple of friends.

 

Strapping the board on my feet felt strange at first but after the first minute (and a couple of tumbles) or so I started to get my legs back. Just as I was getting comfortable I caught an edge and took a bad spill with my shoulder first contact with an icy patch of ground. It all happened so fast but it hurt pretty badly. I wondered whether it was just typical trauma pain where the pain is brutal at first but subsides quickly.

 

After a few minutes on the ground I attempted to get up and board the rest of the way down. Not happening. Going completely against my nature I agreed for my friends to call for help and within moments I was surrounded by ski patrol. A harrowing speedy sled ride (which under any normal circumstances would have been a blast) brought me to first aid. Much like the school nurse's office, all they were ably to supply was ice (and a poorly tied sling). There was no diagnosis but one of the staff members suggested a possible tear of a ligament near the clavicle.

 

Once I knew that I wouldn't do any further damage waiting to get fully checked out and have the shoulder x-rayed I told the others to enjoy themselves on the slopes (we'd only just arrived) and I hit the bar. Probably due to my sloppy sling, the bartender took great care of me.

 

That night after making it home (in substantial pain) and spending some time with my family and my Dad, who was sitting shiva, the Mrs. and I hit the Emergency Room. The Dr. took a quick look before having the x-rays taken and indicated that it didn't seem like anything was broken (explaining that if it was I would be in excruciating pain, I reminded him that it did indeed hurt).

 

The x-rays revealed a complete break of my clavicle on the distal end ("near the shoulder" in layman's terms-though I'm a clavicle expert now).  The treatment described was immobilization of the shoulder in a real sling and an outside chance of surgery. The follow-up visit with an ortho on Monday was when I first realized things were worse than the hospital docs let on. It was explained that my specific injury can be handled with or without surgery depending on the patient and their activity level. The recommendation was to wait a week and take it from there.

 

I went for a second opinion on Wednesday with one of NY's premier surgeons and for him the diagnosis was clear. For someone like me (young and active) surgery would be the answer. Due to the displacement of the bones the likelihood of the fracture healing normally was slim. I corroborated the prognosis with a good friend who is a doctor of physical therapy and went ahead with scheduling surgery to have a titanium plate installed over the top of my clavicle.

Planning Ahead

Now that my 2012 race season has come to a close it's time to start thinking about the gameplan for 2013.  Though I had company during some of my workouts this past season (and had the Miami Tri Locos alongside me in spirit), on the whole I trained on my own. 2013 will be a different story.

A couple of nights ago my buddy and I huddled up to plan out our race season.  It was a long process, full of lots of distractions and sidebars, but in the end we have a decently laid out schedule for the year ahead.  I was initially unimpressed with the race selection, but once we expanded our searching off of Long Island and into a larger area we had more than enough options. Our race planning session was an exercise in balance; among the factors were race scheduling, distances, locations, courses, and last but not least race fees.  With our Timberman 70.3 registrations on the books (and designated as the year's "A"' race) our goal was to fill in the season with variety of other races both triathlons and other types events.

Next up is a 10-mile race in January and then our next event will likely be the Prospect Park duathlon (in Brooklyn) in March.  Now it's time to start saving up for the race fees!

Stay Hungry my Friends

The first week or so after Ironman Arizona was all about recovery (both mental and physical); the soreness disapated in just a few days but it was a few days after that before I began to feel myself again. Training hours on end had become the norm for me during IMAZ training.  In the race's wake I found myself completely out of sorts, a funk if you will; my energy level was noticeably down and I even bordered on irritable. Not until after the first few workouts did the fog begin to lift and I began to return to normal.

My training over the past few weeks has been a major shift from what I was doing before the race.  For one thing the northeast has settled into the early stages of winter, complete with short daylight hours and temperatures trending downwards. The days of riding outside are over for several months, as are open water swims (except for the upcoming Polar Bear Plunge).  I'll keep running outside through the winter, but the rest of my workouts will be moved indoors.  Without the pressure of having to log countless miles I've already begun to get back into the weight room and the yoga studio is next.

With Ironman Arizona behind me, and no imminent race plans, I can't deny that I've been slightly less motivated during my last few weeks of workouts.  Perhaps there is still just some lingering fatigue but I think I can attribute it mostly to reaching my lofty goal. I ate, slept, and dreamt for months about crossing that finish line (it still seems surreal that it actually went down).  Because so much of my energy was spent taking the necessary steps to help me reach my goal I guess I can't help but think: "what now?"  In fact, many family members, friends, and coworkers have asked that very question. 

For now I have my sights set on some new short- and long-term achievements: drastically improve my swimming, running a sub 20-minute 5K, qualifying for the Boston Marathon (this one is probably years down the road, if at all), improving my climbing ability on the bike, besting my previous PRs (I'm likely not alone with this one), and continuing my progression as an athlete/triathlete.

My next immediate step is to lay out next year's racing/training schedule (which already includes Timberman).  I'm sure that once I start looking ahead to next season it won't be hard to bring up my energy and intensity.

I am (an) Ironman!

The final weeks before Ironman Arizona and the post-mordem period after the race were sadly lacking in the writing department, but this is my attempt to ease back into the ink-flow. A full race report for IMAZ is in the works; in the meantime here's what happened:

In case you didn't get the memo, see the skywriting, or here Brian Williams announce it on the evening news: I am an IRONMAN! 

I can still remember those first persuasive arguments about why I should triathlon and clearly recall thinking that I'd just do a couple of sprint distance races and call it a wrap.  Umm....yeah.  Not so much.  Even after those first few events (what with their agonizing, breast stroke-filled swims) I had no intentions of making the leap into long-course events.  It wasn't long though before I signed up for my first Olympic-distance race (which I'd ultimately have to skip because of a business trip) and then for Miami 70.3.  It was after I completed the half-Iron that I began to set my sights higher and had my first thoughts of taking on an Ironman. 

As the Tri Locos began to plan for Ironman Arizona as their big 2012 race I wondered whether I would be up for the challenge.  I was assured by Coach and the other Iron Locos that a year was plenty of time for me to ready my body for the monumental task.  I think it's fair to say that the year of training (6 months on a formal plan) for IMAZ was physically and mentally the hardest thing I've ever done.  It was also the most rewarding of my life.

As I reached the peak training phase I pushed my body and mind further each week.  My weekends consisted of grueling workouts (often by myself) and I made many sacrifices in other aspects of life.  Monday mornings though were filled with pride.  As I settled in to work each Monday, I couldn't help but think about the miles I'd logged on Saturday and Sunday.  Hardly removed from being a drowning, anti-runner, I had been reborn as a passionate triathlete.

I'll dole out some specific "thank yous" in my race report but in the meantime I'd like to throw out a general thanks to all those who helped me along the way.  Whether you were a training partner, someone who donated to my cause, a random runner on a trail who made me work just a little bit harder, a family member, or a friend, everyone I've come in contact with has helped me in some way.  Triathlon may be an individual sport but without all the help and support of those around me I'd never have heard Mike Reilly say: "Andrew Zitofsky, you are an Ironman!"

So...This is Happening

What seemed like a fantasy, an unimaginable pipe dream off in the distant future, is actually here.

Today, in Tempe, AZ, I will swim, bike, and run with about 3,000 other crazy fools. I've worked hard to make it here and to cross that finish line. I am ready.

Throughout this hectic week I've been repeating a simple mantra (whose source I can't recall):

Have the day you have!

Today, I WILL have the day I have and it's gonna be freakin awesome!

Good luck to all the other Locos (both the Miami Tri Locos and the other crazies).

See you at the finish line!