Glad I'm here, wish I was there

I did sit on the couch with an ice pack on my knee for a decent part of the morning, squinting out the window at a brutally unfair blaze of sun until I could take it no longer. Even if my knee still can’t bend far enough to pedal a bicycle, at could at least drag it somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

I decided to drive out the the glacier visitors center and go for a walk. A simple walk. I’d take it slow and loosen up my knee. I started at the edge of the lake, making my way across the ice. I veered of the trail when the footing became too uneven and shuffled through several inches of soft, unbroken powder. Even during the popular hours of a beautiful early Sunday afternoon, the wide-open lake ice serves as the perfect crowd sifter. Skiers, walkers and runners fan out in all directions, across all points, so a gimp like me can waddle along in peace.

I walked for a while, watching every step, focused only on my gait and how far each knee came up. Several minutes passed this way. And half-hour maybe. It’s hard to say. I was out for a walk, trying to ward off the creeping crazy of cabin fever, and I was still completely preoccupied with arbitrary steps. Enough so that when I looked up, I felt momentarily lost. Ahead of me, huge, electric-blue ice chunks of the Mendenhall Glacier loomed like city buildings, so close that I could only see the tips of the jagged peaks rising beyond the skyline. I turned around to see dark puffs of clouds encompassing the sun, their backlit edges burning blinding holes in the sky. Craggy, snow-covered mountains seemed to tower over even the clouds. And I admit ... I stopped for a moment, baffled. Baffled that this place still exists. Baffled that this is where I live. Baffled that even as a partial cripple, I have the option of gimping out here an hour before I have to be at work. Baffled that I can stand in the midst of this handicap-accessible white world of ice and feel - if only momentarily - as though I’ve accidentally discovered some deep and unchartable wilderness. Baffling.

Not as much so, however, as the current standings of the Iditarod Invitational. This year’s race to McGrath is beyond compelling. The racers left at 2 p.m. Saturday and all the cyclists blazed down the hard-packed trail in record time. Now, more than 30 hours into the 350-mile event, they’re hardly showing any signs of slowing down. Pete Basinger, the winner of this year’s Susitna 100, took the lead at mile 90. At 24 hours, he was nearly halfway to the finish - 165 miles. Nearly 11 hours ahead of Mike Curiak’s 2005 time at that point, Pete was on pace not only to break the course record, but absolutely shatter it.

But then came news of bad conditions on the other side of the pass ... a maze of thick, twisting alders were choking the trail, which had been wind-blasted clean of most of its snow cover. The racers had only three choices ... wait for race volunteers to cut out the brush, which could take a day or more; plow right into the thick of it, knowing that bushwhacking could be extremely slow and arduous; or ride the side route, tacking on 33 extra miles but having a marginally better chance of smooth hardpack for the remainder of the race. What will Pete do? How will he get out of this predicament?

Last we heard, he was checking out of Puntilla Lake at mile 165 and was going to decide what to do once he saw the trail. Either way, he is heading into the communication-devoid “Black Hole” of the course. He faces another long, cold night on very little to no sleep, temperatures dipping below 0, and three very different choices that could make or break him. How will he fare? Will the three cyclists on his tail leave Puntilla in time to catch up to him? Will the alder predicament rob him of the record? Stay tuned!

Man ... I love this stuff. Especially since there’s so little solid information out there. Everything is speculative and subject to the revision by the wild imaginations of those who get to sleep in warm beds tonight. This is sports spectatorship at its best, if you ask me. For the latest, check here.

Hopalong

Today was a beautiful day: sunny sky, dry air, new snow and temperatures that haven’t been above freezing in more than a week ... leaving nothing but powder dusting as far as the roads and trails stretch. In short, perfect conditions.

I, however, can’t say the same about myself. Still have that mysterious knee pain. I’m unable to bend my right knee at more than a 30 degree angle without pushing through a lot of pain. It has good periods and bad, but what doesn’t change is how weak and sore it feels, regardless of what angle I have it at.

Since it’s been a week, I’m beginning to have a lot of empathy for what Geoff when through earlier this month, struggling with mysterious foot pains. It’s really frustrating, especially since I don’t know the diagnosis or even the cause. I had that theory about overextending it in a posthole, but who knows?

The worst part, beyond everyone asking me ‘Why are you limping?’ is that all of this pent-up energy is just pooling and fermenting inside of me. I’ve had to cut back my caffeine intake. Today, I went to the gym to do some upper-body weight lifting and pedal the stationary bike with my left leg while propping my right on the frame — just to get some of the shakes out. I even walked on the treadmill for a little while. My knee loosened up and felt great all afternoon, but this evening is back to being stiff.

I’m thinking about going to see a doctor this week. But if I’m going to drop a big co-pay on an ‘expert,’ I’d like something a little more substantial than vague guesses. Geoff received a lot of good info by reaching out to other ultrarunners on the Web. So I thought I’d do the same.

If you’re still reading after my gripe fest, maybe you can help me. My problem is stiff/soreness on the top of my knee, mostly in the tissue immediately around my kneecap. It’s tender enough that it hurts when I press down on the top of my knee. There was some swelling for three or four days, but that’s mostly gone down. It is getting better, just slowly. I’m not sure if the pain is in muscle or tendons. It’s basically right in the joint.

Has anyone out there ever experienced something like this? Since I don’t know exactly how it happened, any information will give be a leg to stand on, so to speak.

Thanks again. I know the importance of recovery and the virtue of patience. But recent comments about “major reconstructive surgery” just have me a little worried.

But if I can’t bike in this beautiful winter weather, at least I have a good sporting event to watch. The 350-mile Iditarod Invitational began today, which means that every 12 hours or so, some names will appear in white text on a black screen, telling me where each hardcore winter racer is located and when they rolled through. The updates are slow and not very visual, but for me, this is more exciting than the Superbowl. Go Pete!

Epilogue

(This photo was contributed to the Susitna 100 Web site by Michael Schoder. There are other cool photos of the race at http://www.susitna100.com/photogallery.html)

The sore knee I sustained during the Susitna 100 turned out to be more of a full-fledged injury. My best guess is I either twisted or mildly sprained it after another cyclist brushed me over and I punched my right leg into a hip-deep snowdrift, probably overextending my knee in the process. I remember feeling sharp tinges of pain that wore off pretty fast. But since that happened three miles into the race, I'm guessing that riding 100 more miles didn't exactly do wonders for the healing process.

Whatever the cause, I'm still gimpy and unable to use it much. Today was the first time since early Sunday morning that I have been able to bend it at all without shooting pain - it's been reduced to dull pain. After couple of days of stagnant pain levels, I became more and more stressed about its state and the prospect of needing weeks or doctor visits to heal.

So when my knee started to feel better today, I was already feeling overeager about bringing it back. I decided to go for a little walk along Twin Lakes - flat, paved, and exactly a mile one way. I made slow, careful steps to concentrate on bending, but not overbending. I shuffled my way about a half mile down the path before my knee started to feel really weak and sore. After a few more steps, pain was shooting again, so I locked my knee and hobbled back to the car.

It's such an interesting paradox ... injury. In less than a week, I've gone from snowbiking centuries to struggling to walk a mile. I am going to have to take it easy for at least a few more days, and it's already driving me crazy. Beyond my injury, I feel like I recovered amazingly fast. Then, on top of that, the past few days in Juneau have been filled with dry snow and cold temperatures ... perfect for any number of activities I've neglected: skiing, snowboarding, ice skating. And Snaux Bike ... poor thing is still in a rumpled bike box, probably thrashed to pieces by airport baggage handlers. I guess the least I could do is put it back together. But what I really want to do is ride it. It's crazy how fast that urge recovers.