The Road to Recovery

Thank goodness for mothers! Luckily, mine knew just when I needed her most. She flew into Denver a few days after my skiing injury, equipped with the essentials: board games, puzzles, coloring books, and--best of all--a big squeeze.

After spending my initial recovery period at Anna's place, I was happy to return to my shoebox apartment. It might be small, but it's home. The week passed slowly with fluctuating weather--just like my spirits. It was a constant struggle to stay positive when everything felt so wrong.

Fortunately, my first follow-up appointment went well. The x-rays of my knee were clean, and my physician cleared me to work and drive as I felt ready. I was also assigned to begin two physical therapy (PT) sessions each week for six weeks. My first two sessions went well, and provided the confidence that I needed to acknowledge that I was indeed recovering.

Part of my frustration during the week was the circumstances of my mom's visit. All I wanted to do was share my city with her, but I had to accept that this wasn't the time for that--she came to take care of me and get me "back on my feet."

Still, we did have some fun. One night, Dana joined us at Vine Street Pub & Brewery (#35). Mom and I also made it to Cheesman Park and neighboring Denver Botanic Gardens. The gardens bloomed with spring flowers, and sponsored a local cactus and succulent sale.

The highlight of the week was our over-night trip to Estes Park. Gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park, this mountain town provided the opportunity to escape the city and breathe in much-needed fresh air.


















Estes Park is home to wildlife, including elk--Mom's favorite.

We treated ourselves to a fabulous dinner at Rock Inn Mountain Tavern...

...and a good night's sleep and hot shower at Murphy's Resort.

My injury is testing my physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual strength.  Living a healthy and active lifestyle defines who I am; it is a passion that facilitates my happiness and my independence. As a result, it’s not just my knee that was broken; my spirit broke, too. I’ve never faced a hardship like this before. With my mom here this week, I let myself fall apart because I knew that she could put me back together.

Two weeks out, things are starting to look up. I will continue making progress with PT and ease my way back into work at Omnicare. My main uncertainty at this point is where I stand with the military (as usual). I still have a long road ahead of me; six more weeks on crutches until I can start bearing weight on my left leg. From there, I will have to motivate myself to gradually return to my previous physical level of activity. It won't be easy, but I believe that I will make a full recovery and be a stronger person in every way imaginable.

As expected, I have already taken away several lessons (and some reminders) from this experience:

• Do not underestimate the importance of proper rest, fuel, and stretching.
• Slow down and remember that I can't always be in control. It doesn't always matter what we expect from life, but rather what life expects from us. 
• Everything happens for a reason and everything will turn out as it should. Moving forward is not always straight ahead.
• It is okay to depend on loved ones in times of need. The support and generosity of family and friends that I have received has been overwhelming.
• We must keep a healthy perspective of our own situation, and be grateful for those dealing with circumstances much worse than our own. Things could always be worse.
• Last but not least, Mom is always right--March came in like a lamb, and inevitably went out like a lion.

A Turn for the Worst at Keystone

Keystone had been calling my name for some time, so I answered the call on Thursday morning. The conditions were idillic for my liking: 40s and blue skies, though more crowded than usual for a weekday--early spring-breakers perhaps?





I met up with co-workers, Van and Ed, and we skied hard, hitting all three peaks that morning (though still sticking to blue cruisers). I had skied at Keystone once at the end of last season, so the layout of the mountain came back to me quickly. The scenery and long runs easily make it a favorite. The back side of the mountain, however, was extremely gusty that day, so we only stayed for a few runs.









Ed left around noon, and I wanted to get in a few more solo runs before calling it a day. I suspect that I was more fatigued than I realized--and should have at least taken a break to eat--because I was unable to catch myself when my ski caught an edge. I fell forward and twisted my knee in the process. I immediately knew that I was injured and needed help.

Ski patrol took me to the mountain emergency clinic via sled and the x-ray showed that I fractured my left tibial plateau--a bone in my knee. From there, an ambulance took me to St. Anthony's Summit Medial Center in Frisco. My surgeon, Dr. Joseph, confirmed the commonality of the injury among skiers, which fortunately signified a somewhat routine and predictable repair. I passed the next 24 hours at the hospital in a daze until Anna picked me up and brought me to her apartment, where I spent the next few days. Aspen and I took care of each other while Anna and Alex went to a friend's wedding in California.

After eight weeks on crutches, I am expected to make a full recovery. For that, I am grateful in knowing that my injury could have been much worse. Still, as a passionately active person, I expect the recovery to take its toll on me both physically and emotionally. My future seems impossibly uncertain at this point (with the Air Force, especially), but I am challenging myself to find strength, courage, and peace in knowing that everything happens for a reason. The lessons that I have already learned through this is to slow down and rely on loved ones for help.

 

Business as Usual

March is typically a swing month in terms of weather. My mother always says that if the month comes in like a lion, it goes out like a lamb (and vice versa). This year, the weather was relatively mild in early March, which does not bode well for winter ending anytime soon... if you believe in that sort of thing, anyway.

Knowing my time in Denver is limited, I have been making an effort to maximize my time in the city. For example, I've been staying on top of work, reading, running, and yoga. One afternoon in particular, I took a bike ride to my favorite Wash Park neighborhood.
























Later that week, Dana and I checked out the art scene in the Santa Fe district. We also tried two local breweries: Dry Dock and Renegade (#34).



I then spent the weekend in LoDo, cat sitting for Alex and Anna. Though partial to my side of town, I always enjoy exploring new areas of the city.











In the meantime, as of March 3rd, 2017, there is officially a Captain Schaller in the family!

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Vail

I left work on a Tuesday evening, heading westbound into the mountains. Uncle Ed and Aunt Lisa on my mother's side of the family planned a family ski trip in Vail that week, and invited me to tag along--an offer too sweet to pass up!

An hour and a half drive put me in the heart of Vail, where I joined my aunt's cousins, the Dorfners, in a night of card games, booze, and "Aunt Pam's" chocolate pretzels. The Dorfners are a fun clan that immediately took me in as their own. They are the type of genuine and good-hearted people that could only come from one place: Pittsburgh.

Despite staying up too late the night before, we were up early Wednesday, eager to hit the slopes. It was my first time skiing Vail, and I was not disappointed. We were blessed with ideal conditions: bluebird skies, temperatures in the 40s, and no lines. The slopes were mostly groomed, which was fine for us East Coast skiers.

For me, the most attractive aspect of the mountain is the terrain. The enormous front side of the mountain funnels down into the European-inspired town. The back side, however, extends into a series of peaks and bowls--inspiring a feeling of being surrounded by wilderness and mountains, far removed from town. It's big, but not overwhelmingly so.

Despite the size of our group and the myriad of ages, I was glad that the Dorfners and I were all able to ski together. We spent the morning in Blue Sky Basin, a large area on the back side of the mountain. It took almost half an hour to navigate there via a series of lifts, gondolas, and trails. My favorite slope was Grand Review--a long, tree-lined trail that I could have skied over and over again.

After lunch, we skied the front side of the mountain. Simba and Avanti were crowd favorites.

We put in a full day of skiing (9am-3:30pm), tracking over 30 miles per my cousin Leanna's phone app. I felt satisfied to have skied hard, arguably the best I have in years. I was initially uncertain how I would feel about skiing Vail, but I have since concluded that it might be my new favorite mountain.

I was greetily tempted to stay the rest of the week with the Dorfners, but I had to return to life and work in Denver. Driving back at dusk, surrounded by the silhouettes of the mountains, left me with only one thought: how much it will break my heart to leave Colorado.