That Night

I come to and John is leaning over me. He tells me that he has called the ambulance and its on its way. He looks seriously concerned and I start to discover why. The blue collared shirt that I am wearing is now stained with large crimson blotches. As a matter of fact the sidewalk beneath me is splattered in blood as well. Instantly I notice a sharp pain radiating from my toes to my knee. I use my shirt to press against my face and slow the bleeding. John helps me to the edge of the sidewalk and I close my eyes. Encouraged by the sound of approaching sirens, I slip back out of consciousness. Later that week John and I would run through the events of the evening trying to piece back together what had occurred. The enormous bump on Johns head would make it difficult to remember exactly what had happened. I had a badly broken ankle, a broken nose, and after the hospital called me back in twice for more testing, they determined that I had in fact not broken my neck. Sweet! We arrived on the conclusion that on the walk home we had been jumped by about six or seven guys. Completely outnumbered we were both pretty battered. The worst of my injury's was obviously my leg. He said it could have been weakened by a winter full of landings on skis. landings on free heel skis are usually backseat anyways so it probably hadn't helped. None the less, they got away and I was left facing surgery. Indeed I am the proud host to a metal plate and nine steel screws. At first I had a pretty positive outlook on the whole thing. I mean how bad could It be? Slap some screws in my leg stitch it up, do a couple months worth of pull ups and karma will take care of the guys who jumped us. Well after being on a roll for so long, I can assure you that the 4 months of immobility and the 3 months of babying my leg after that became torture. I would sit and dream of climbing, of those sunny days at Indian Creek. Could my new ankle stand the discomfort of crack climbing? Would I be able to boost cliffs into powder? I would have to tell my boss in Alaska that I would not be able to guide another season! Everything I loved was suddenly suspended in front of me and the longer it sat there, the more I wanted it back. So became my routine of crutching out to my parents garage and doing pull ups, push ups, and sit ups till my ankle screamed. The second I got my heart rate up all the blood in my body felt as though it would run directly to my leg. I knew that the pain meant fresh blood to the break and this would speed healing. So be it, More pull ups. I started that winter off in Jackson Hole and I had to get my Scarpa T-races molded twice as the swelling decreased over the course of the season. At first my leg, about half it's normal size had no hope of making a tele turn. Let alone on my 130's! so I started that season riding groomers and re-learning how to ski. Good thing there was no snow! Anyway enough of that, What doesn't kill you just makes you want to send it harder ;) So here we are all caught up to May 2010. Its been a year since I broke my leg and I'm once again packing the truck for Indian Creek. Lets finish what we started right? I just hope I can still climb. Training all winter in the gym where I worked I felt physically strong. But climbing plastic in the gym and climbing trad in Indian Creek are about as similar as ping pong and rugby...