The Shin Bone’s Connected to the . . .

It’s now been 18 weeks since I had the surgery to try to put my Achilles tendon back together again. And yesterday I had my last physical therapy session (because that’s all insurance will pay for—to hell with what the patient needs).

But I am still improving, albeit slowly.

If you need to start at the beginning, here’s the list of my blog posts about the rupture:

• What’s Up, Doc?.
• What’s Afoot?.
• Statins and Tendons Don’t Mix.
• Gymnopodal Therapy.
• Gymnopodal Therapy Redux.
• Toe Tendons ≠ Achilles Tendon.

My main complaint at this stage is the way my calf muscles turned to jelly, and they seem to like it that way. My calf looks mostly like a wrinkley, deflated balloon. And that means that I still cannot support my full weight on the ball of my foot. (OK, I’m lying. If I try it, I can hold it for about half a second before everything collapses.) And I suppose I shouldn’t complain—last time I wrote about this I could only put about 130 pounds on it. (As you may guess, I do weigh more than 130 pounds.)

My physical therapy, while working on calf muscle strength, has mainly focussed on all of the other muscles that support the ankle and foot. I’m talking the ones that provide side-to-side support, and having good balance. We’re getting there.

I still figure, though, that my “Gymnopodal Therapy” is really important in getting me back all the way, or at least a good portion of there. So I’ve been trying to hike a lot, and I’ve slowly been building up my distance, and how much I use that foot.

One problem is that it is too easy to cheat. If I don’t pay attention, my left foot seems to be perfectly happy limping. Not good, and it does not improve the muscle.

If you think about the way you walk, you’ll notice that at the end of each step, you rise up onto the ball of your foot and then use your calf muscle and Achilles tendon to ease down onto the heel of your other foot. But if you can’t, you let your bad foot collapse early, and then you whomp onto the heel of your good foot. Or at least you whomp if you are trying to go at all faster than a snail.

In my case, that means whomping onto the heel of my foot that’s connected to my ankle bone that’s connected to my shin bone that’s connected to my (bad) knee bone. And I’m feeling it. That’s the knee that always appreciated my going barefoot—going barefoot allowed me to be sensitive to how I was walking and how all my parts interconnect.

So I try hard not to cheat so that I can regain that bodily harmony.

As I hike I also notice other interconnected parts that still need a little something. The physical therapy does work on various muscles, but it doesn’t do much for all of the planter muscles and tendons. So I feel that a bit while hiking, but that has been rapidly improving. Yay!

The sole of my injured foot is also (slowly!) responding to my hiking. While it had, as I’ve said, gone spongy, I am also starting to notice that the skin there is improving. And it can not happen soon enough for me. I’ve already injured that sole twice in my hikes.

In the first instance, I “kicked” a rock, which peeled back a flap of skin. I haven’t had that happen in a long time. (And I really didn’t kick the rock very hard.) But that’s what spongy skin does—you kind of forget how, after building up keratin on one’s soles, just how protective it is. Fortunately, while the flap bled a bit, it scabbed over quickly and, while not good as new now, it pretty darn close. The second injury was a puncture injury on my heel. I got a slice about 2mm in and about 3mm long. This one did not bleed (though I definitely felt it). My heel skin may have been spongy, and therefore not very good at resisting punctures, but at least it was thick. The puncture just didn’t penetrate deeply enough.

For my hikes, I’ve been slowly building up some distance. As I write this, I’ve accumulated 65 miles since surgery. I started really slow, as in this picture that I already showed you.

Gymnopodal Therapy

That was 0.30 miles at Shallenberger State Nature Preserve, on February 19, 7½ weeks after surgery.

By March 15, 11 weeks after surgery, I was comfortable doing about 2 miles, with this picture you’ve seen before.

Turnaround Point

In these hikes I really was forced to “cheat”. Limping was my style (and I could not do any more—but it was exercise, and I used the foot as much as I could and could stand).

Lately I’ve been doing a lot more. At Alley Park I started doing closer to 3 miles in a hike. On April 22, 16½ weeks after surgery, I did 3.05 miles. I also got a nice picture of this bald eagle that’s nesting there.

Bald Eagle at Alley Park

Zaleski State Forest (actually Lake Hope State Park, which adjoins) has been my spot for even longer hikes. I managed 4½ miles there on April 13, 15 weeks after surgery, when there were not yet any leaves on the trees.

A Zaleski View

Leafless trees do give one a nice feel for topography.

I was at Zaleski again on April 30, 17½ weeks after surgery, and did 7.2 miles (my longest hike to date). I managed fairly well for about 4 miles, but then had to slow down (and cheat more) as my Achilles really started to ache. I also noticed this particular black rat snake.

Zaleski Black Rat Snake

You may or may not notice something in its mouth. See if you can spot it here. (Look for the stripes.)

Lunchtime!

The rat snake was eating another snake, which is why it did not immediately flee when I got somewhat close to it. (Sorry for the lack of picture quality—I wasn’t carrying anything close to a good camera; that’s from my flip-phone camera.)

Today, I just got back from 6.4 miles at Clear Creek (yes, I am impatient and I am pushing it). It’s been 18 weeks since surgery.

Clear Creek Overlook

Yeah, it was a hot day. We hit something like 83° (28°C).

It’s also the time of year when Trilliums (Trillia?) are blooming.

A Clear Creek Trillium

And there was another snake.

Mid-trail Garter Snake

That one was just sitting there in the middle of the path. After taking its picture, I carefully walked around it without disturbing it.

And finally, here’s one more picture at one of the streamlet crossings.

Clear Creek Streamlet Crossing

It was a great day to be out, and I really had a chance to work my muscles. Climbing up and down those hills really requires attempting to use the ball of your foot.

I have to admit to that my Achilles (and my calf) is rather sore right now, but I really pushed things the entire hike. It’s a soreness of satisfaction.