Injury and Growth

How Tearing My Meniscus May Be Exactly What I Needed

One of the pics I was able to take from the dock in the town I grew up in. I was hobbling around with my knee brace on the evening this was taken. (Photo by author.)

I tore my meniscus playing disc golf.

I know, I know.

I can hear you now, “How the hell did you do that?”

“Throwing frisbees!?”

Uh, yes. That is precisely how I did it.

Well, that combined with years and years of board sports, long walks, and bike rides that have put excessive mileage on my aging knees.

As a result of this injury I haven’t been able to walk like I normally would. For a few weeks I had a top speed of ‘hobble’ and a range of about 500 steps before I would have to sit again and ‘reset’ my knee. I couldn’t walk or do much of anything.

Everything happens for a reason though. Perhaps this is God’s way of telling me that I needed a pattern interrupt. I’m actually thankful that I did tweak my knee in the respect that it forced me to slow down and change my daily, and perhaps destructive, habits and routines.

I wasn’t able to do the things that I normally would.

Typically, I would take daily walks, mountain bike rides, and/or play a quick round at the local disc golf course. As a dad, I have about two hours each day, right after work, where I can get outside and get some exercise. Being that I couldn’t walk, the only option I felt like I had left was to ride my bike.

Riding didn’t last long though. One day, early on in this injury, I was experiencing pain trying to make my way back home on the bike. I had felt good until then and had even completed a couple of rides in the days prior. I thought it may be helping my knee. It was on that ride that I realized maybe it wasn’t.

I was still about 3.5 miles from my house and the remainder of the ride was mostly uphill. My knee started to signal that it didn’t like the flexing on each upstroke of my pedal cycles and I had to ‘one-foot’ pedal my ass the rest of the way home.

That was the day I realized I was going to have to come up with a new routine. None of my typical options were available, at least not for now.

It was the shakeup I didn’t realize I needed.

I am a person who can’t really sit still and when it comes to mental health, exercise has been one of the most effective ways for me to stave of the depression monsters.

What the hell was I going to do for exercise over this next month or two?

So far the answer has been - not too much.

This injury forced me to find new ways to spend my time. It broke my old patterns. Patterns that I didn’t even realize I needed a break from.

Over the past month I’ve played more guitar and have taken more pictures than the previous three months combined. In fact, as I type this, I can’t fully feel the keys under my left hand because my fingers have calloused over from the endless guitar playing.

My injury helped me to slow down. I didn’t feel like I needed to make excuses for why I was going slow. It allowed me to be slow without others questioning why. It absolved me of feeling like I constantly had to be the one getting things done. It forced me to be deliberate. It forced me to be patient. It forced me to stop and look around.

I’m not out of the woods yet. Even as I sit here, writing this with my leg brace on, there is still the slight possibility that I will need surgery, but I won’t know until later this week. If I do, I will once again have to remind myself of the value that quiet and slow can deliver.

The uncomfortable and necessary pattern interrupt relieved me from my habits. It allowed me to appreciate simple things, like being able to walk in the first place. I fear I won’t have the patience to just slow down and take a look around. To appreciate the small things. To contemplate. Part of me worries about whether or not I’ll be able to live like this again, once I am healthy. Maybe I’ll allow autopilot take over again. Maybe I’ll fall back into routine.

In a way, I’m thankful that I was hurt. I’m not enjoying being hurt, but I am living at a different speed. The injury has forced me to break my habits in ways that I’m not sure I’d be able to if I was otherwise healthy. It has helped me to slow down and be more deliberate with my actions. Maybe this is what I needed the most. Maybe this is God’s way of forcing me to actually slow down and reevaluate my habits.

Perhaps, in some ways, this injury was necessary for me to grow.