Fractures in Time: The Healing Power of Injury

How an untimely and unexpected physical failure has put me ahead by setting me back.

I hurt myself.

It's a phrase we've all said. The older I get, the more those words shock and terrify me. I am no spring chicken, and this dry hen hurts something fierce.

I've spent the past few months going harder than I should have. I knew it going into the summer. I commented that I needed to schedule a week between trips to heal from whatever sickness or injury I'd most certainly collect on my travels. That week was never scheduled.

I bounced from fishing the tropics to long days on a trade show floor to fishing the open ocean to shooting an archery competition to fishing for pike and bass, all in 4 or so different states, all without climbing into my own bed in between.

It was the final day of chasing pike with a fly rod that did me in.

Angler's Elbow. Fisherman's Elbow. Fisher's Elbow.

Call it what you will. I have it. And it hurts.

I can't pick up a coffee cup with my right hand. I can't extend my arm straight without being in some serious pain. Most importantly, I can't shoot my bow.

Fortunately, antelope archery season doesn't open until tomorrow.

So here we are.

I am a bowhunter who spent the year preparing for tomorrow, only for a season-delaying injury to happen yesterday. Now what?

The Inevitably Quickening Tumble Towards Death

dun. dun. DUNNNNNNNNNN.

We are all dying. Some of us are just closer to the finish line than others.

I look at the timeline of life as a bell curve. There's birth and the climb through adolescence and adulthood. There's this beautiful growth and development into who we are and who we're trying to become.

Then, between the ages of, let's say, 38 and 42, there's a plateau where things start to stagnate just before...

the rapid spill towards death.
(insert dramatic music)

That fall becomes ever steeper with every illness and every unfortunate injury. Not only that but the path that line takes is affected by every illness and injury.

You may have had the same career for the past 20 years, but will an injury in your 40s end that? Will an unexpected diagnosis make you give up your passions? Will a bone spur make you ineligible for glory?

I find myself sitting here asking those questions during a time when I should be scouting goats.

The Sudden Pressure of a Physical Career

I want to hunt tomorrow. I'll go so far as to say I've shot better in the past few months than I ever have. I have prepared mentally and physically for this season and I really felt ready.

Now I won't because I can't.

This might resonate with a lot of aging hunters, anglers, and general outdoor sports enthusiasts. What happens when our bodies give up before our minds do? I know that every hunter takes to the field a last time. Every angler will eventually send their last cast. These phases of life are just so much more apparent to me in this moment.

For me, this injury is more than an inconvenience that is stifling my recreation time. Hunting and fishing are a huge part of my job. That fact makes this all the more pressing on my mind.

I need to hunt and fish so I can do my job.
I need to get up the mountain.
I need to be able to battle the current.
I have to land those big river monsters.
I need to make good shots.

I need to be physically capable of doing all the things required of someone tasked with testing the best hunting and fishing gear on the planet.

Something as simple as an elbow injury can jeopardize that.

My job is not one that can be done through to retirement. I was aware of that when I took the position. As the Hunt & Fish Editor of GearJunkie, my job is to hunt and fish. I knew that there would be an expiration date on the type of career that batters your body the way this does. With the intense travel schedule and physical demands of just using the gear as it is intended, there's a finish line where someone will need to take it over for me.

In my mind, that line sits somewhere in my 50s. As long as I am fit enough, capable enough, and of sound mind enough to do this job... I'm going to do it.

But then what?

I sit here now pondering if I've set that imaginary expiration date too far ahead when something as simple as a wimpy elbow is putting me on the bench.

Note to Self: Finish one of the dozen books you've started so you can feed yourself if you break a leg.

The Unwanted But Very Much Needed Pause

Tomorrow, I will cook mountain lion meat and take some images for an article a friend is writing. I will change over the laundry (carefully) and not fold it because I never do. I'll likely go for a walk with a handful of my dogs. I may spend the bulk of the day working while wearing a moisturizing face mask, drinking a strong cup of coffee, and listening to bubblegum pop music. I might even do a stint in the massage chair.

What I won't be doing is crawling through the prairie grasses, sweating profusely, and wondering if I'm strong enough to raise my bow and draw without notice.

As much as I want to be, I'm accepting that I owe it to myself and to the animal to only pursue when I know I'm capable. Right now, I'm fairly certain I am not.

I was nearly in tears thinking it over this past weekend. Now, I find myself in a position of being so immensely grateful.

Slowing Down to Catch Up

There is always somewhere to be and something to do.
There's a plane I need to be on and meetings I need to be in.
There's a story that needs to be written and photos that need to be taken.
There’s a deer to chase, there's fish to catch, there's a mountain to climb...

and now...

There's a bird dog that needs cuddles and hounds that need run.
There's a sourdough starter that needs flour and peaches that need canned.
A Yeti cooler sits at the edge of my front steps, where it's been for months, needing a nose plug, bleach, and elbow grease.

My partner needs a foot rub. My cat needs lovins. And I need time.

I need me more than I need the hunt right now. I need to be creative and sharp without the fatigue I've felt for the past few months.

My skin needs lotion. My hair needs...well... help. My body needs rest.

It took an unexpected injury to make me stop and take inventory of how thin I was stretched.

I need to smell the rain without running from it.
I need to enjoy a meal without rushing through it.
I need to revel in the sensation of a hot shower without having somewhere to be.

I'm hopeful that I can resolve this injury in short order, but that will only happen if I give myself the gift of space and time to rest and heal.

While I do that, I can begin catching up on all the life I missed while I was busy living life.

As I venture across the plateau that leads to this second half of life, just before the impending tumble towards a terrifying demise, I think the secret might be slowing down with intention.

Maybe, just maybe, it'll extend the plateau, and the tumble won't be quite so harsh.

I'm sure there's a tortoise and hare reference somewhere here, but it escapes me.

So I'll leave you with this:
Put down your phone. Go give your dog a treat. Tell the people you love that you love them. And fold your damn laundry.