or, climbing anyway when my physical therapist says I shouldn’t but I decide that I know better1
I am losing track of the time I was injured and off my feet and the time I have been injured and back to weight-bearing. It’s gone really fast, all a blur, as it is usually put. It’s a good thing I have written things down in various places so I can go back and recheck or I would lose the timeline. I had my six-week post surgery appointment on March 25 and started physical therapy the following Monday. Ah, yes.
But by then I had already been back to climbing.
Well, to be clear, I’d tried climbing once. The first route I did 2 even before I was bearing weight was a 5.7. It was very anti-climactic. Climbing one-footed isn’t super exciting, it turns out, and I had to be careful not to do something weird to my shoulders. It was so anti-climactic that I didn’t want to try again that day. I waited another week and then tried another route. I started physical therapy that week, too, and my therapist told me that I should take my time and wait. He didn’t think I was ready to climb.
Rebellious by nature, I did not hearken to his words, but went ahead and did what I wanted. He didn’t really KNOW, you know? And it was fine. I climbed a taller, steeper 5.7 and had way more fun. That day I did two routes. And so on, a little bit more, a little harder, every time I go in, now two to three days a week. This past Friday, almost three months since surgery, I tried a 5.11 on the lead wall and, carefully, hanging on the rope a couple of times ’cause I was a little scared to fall, I made it to the top. I’m not breaking any records here– this is no miracle. When people who aren’t climbers hear me say I’m at it again even though I’m barely walking, they think that I’m trying to climb exactly the same way I was before I was injured. They might think I’m crazy and reckless. Before I got hurt, I bouldered3 most of the time, which I would not do right now for any amount of money. I was bouldering in the gym when I fell and broke my ankle.
The kind of climbing I’ve been doing is therapeutic climbing– all easy climbing on jugs. I don’t push myself. I’m not stressed. I move slowly, thoughtfully. I don’t fall, though I do hang on the rope. It reminds me of the basic reasons I love this sport so much. It’s just fun. It’s a kind of active resting4 that makes my body happy and probably encourages the healing process. It certainly hasn’t discouraged it. I’ve had a lot of practice with therapeutic climbing– through two pregnancies and coming back after two births in my thirties, starting over and climbing like a newbie while rehabbing a shoulder injury for a year in my forties, and now my ankle in my fifties. Occasionally, I revert to therapeutic climbing just to remember the love. In the three decades I have been a rock climber, I’ve learned a lot about my limits and what’s best for my body. It makes me an expert of sorts. 5
I’m not sure if/when I’ll ever boulder hard again, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to climb harder routes– just before I broke my ankle I made a list of all the 5.12s I haven’t ticked off at the NRG. Not yet though. One thing that is holding me back is that I have to wear an approach shoe on my healing foot.6 It has climbing shoe rubber on the bottom and the toe cap, and they are great for climbing as long as the foot holds aren’t too small. And since it’s a regular shoe, it supports my weak foot. I didn’t really consider the strength of my climber-feet until my right foot atrophied from not using it for so long. I cut slits in the heel of an old climbing shoe so it would fit, and I use it occasionally on climbs with smaller foot holds, but it really wears my foot out since it doesn’t offer as much support.
Even if he doesn’t know anything about climbing, my physical therapist is the expert in getting my foot, ankle, and leg all strong again, and has put me through a gradual progression of exercises, changing and increasing difficulty regularly so I don’t plateau. Too easy? Move on to something harder. First, toe raises, both feet; then toe raises, both feet up, single foot down. Now I can do single foot toe raises, both up and down. I’m starting to make more dynamic stepping movements bordering on hopping, and I can walk back and forth across a room on my toes. I will skip next session. I mean, literally skip, like a child. The definition of bones and tendons and muscles are visible in my foot again.7
I am eager to work my way back to climbing harder things, and climbing outside. Oh, I miss climbing outside and camping. But walking is still the hardest thing for me. I have no stamina. I can walk two miles in my neighborhood, but by the end my right side is exhausted and painful, and I’m limping. I imagine that hiking on steep, uneven trails would wipe me out in my current state.8 But it will come. I need to push myself to walk farther and farther, longer and longer, and intentionally take some hikes just for hiking’s sake.
This summer I’d like to be able to hike into an area, climb some routes, and then make it back out and to the car under my own power. I don’t want anyone to have to carry my ass out.9
- No old lady climbers were harmed in the production of this blog post ↩︎
- On top-rope and one-footed, I should add, no jumping down off the bouldering wall for me (see footnote 1) ↩︎
- For the non-climber, this is climbing short stuff without ropes. ↩︎
- Remember this post about resting? ↩︎
- And super humble. ↩︎
- The Black Diamond Fuel approach shoes, if you’re curious. They run really small. ↩︎
- Hello tendons and bones! I missed you. ↩︎
- And peeing outside? Not able to do deep squats yet. TMI? ↩︎
- Goals. ↩︎
