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Phil Goldstein | North Forty News
Earlier today I put my Upper Body Ergometer (UBE) back into the basement storage room. The UBE is an exercise device where you sit or stand and rotate pedal-like handles with your arms, not your legs as with a bicycle.
The UBE is my cardiovascular workout of last resort—regular exercise is important for me, and I prefer biking, swimming or walking—so when I drag that 350-pound torture device out of storage, it means I’ve incurred another injury preventing me from any of the above activities. Or, worse yet, I’ve had surgery to repair a lower body injury. I particularly despise the UBE’s tediousness—you can’t easily take your hands off the ‘pedals’ to towel your face, hydrate, change the channel or answer the phone. But it’s what I was once again left with as a means to maintain some fitness while I recovered recently from a seventh orthopedic surgery, a torn medial meniscus. The meniscus is a component of the knee’s shock absorption system, and I incurred the damage playing pickleball.
My previous surgeries going back 40 years were to first, my right, then my left knee— wear and tear from running 80 to 100 miles a week in marathon training. Then came two surgeries to the same foot followed by the left hip, same reason. Next was the right hip only 14 months before this latest knee surgery, also from pickleball. And of course there’ve been many other issues that caused recreation/competition downtime but fortunately no cutting.
I once had two 45-minute MRIs in the same week—I’ve had twenty-some in total—and I no longer experience the claustrophobia that most people dread with the process; I just fall asleep now when I’m in that 23-inch diameter tube. I can’t even count the number of X-rays I’ve had, not even considering those from the dentist each year. I’m sure I should glow in the dark by now.
Given my history of self-inflicted orthopedic offense, at each medical insurance change in my life I’ve always prudently said, “Give me all you’ve got.” Meanwhile, my physical therapist’s receptionist answers the phone when she sees my number, “What is it this time?”
So, I’m obviously hard on myself, but the two questions one obviously might ask me are, has it been worth it, and is it wise to continue playing pickleball, the fastest growing sport in the country but the major contributor to orthopedic specialists’ retirement accounts. I only took up pickleball to fill the competition void after my first hip surgery forced me to give up distance running and racing.
As for the first question, growing up I was depressingly lacking in the self-esteem and confidence that competitive sport and its social benefits provided for my friends, football, basketball or wrestling heroes all. I eventually gravitated to distance running, the sport for which my size and lack of natural athleticism was suited. My subsequent qualification for three successive Boston Marathons validated my motivation to find relevance and identity through athletic endeavor. It also led to a graduate school full scholarship coaching women’s track and interning in the university’s athletic business office, which jump-started long and rewarding careers in intercollegiate athletics administration and then consulting, which continues today. So no, I certainly wish I’d had the competition success and career boosting gain without the pain, but I’ve no doubt my life’s path would have been much different had I just joined the debate or chess club.
As for the second question, one certainly might say that seven orthopedic surgeries are enough, so surely I’d be better off sticking to less potentially injurious activities than pickleball. Well, the answer to that is, I didn’t put my UBE too far back in the storage room!
Phil Goldstein is in his fifth year writing Tales from Timnath for North Forty News. Phil is a 14-year Timnath resident who is finally using his West Virginia University journalism degree after getting sidetracked 51 years ago. The views expressed herein are Phil’s only. Contact him with comments on the column at [email protected].
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