Before I Even Hit The Ground

I tore my Achilles a month ago and have been going through a slow painful rehabilitation.  Initially I did not want to journalize my trials and tribulations, as suggested by the Doc and my Physical Therapist, but on second thought, it might be a good exercise so bear with me.  For the sake of something creative to do I will try to post semi-daily for a while.  It might be a little self absorbed but it might be a good outlet to dump my thoughts and ideas.

My wife Tracey and I took this weird Covid season off from skiing and winter in Park City and came down to Tracey's mom's empty house in Tucson.  Marana to be more exact.  She has a great little place in a clean active retirement community with a Clubhouse, gym, pools and tennis courts.  We have stayed her before and liked the easy access to Saguaro National Park and the West desert, Oro valley and Tucson proper, a nice little down and dirty middle class town with a good mix of Anglo and Mexican flavor.  We were going to take it easy and heal and reboot our love of skiing that has changed over the years.  We brought bikes and motorcycles, hiking shoes and golf clubs along with lots of free stimulus money to enjoy the new and different climate and attractions.

What surprised us was the weather.  Its 45-75 and sunny all the time here.  I don't know what we were thinking but this is much nicer than we even imagined, especially when we hear of the Blizzards and Polar Vortex up north on the evening news.  We are winter - snow people and not weather snobs but it is pretty nice down here, I have to admit.  I would not want to be here at 120 degrees in the summer but there is a time and place for everyone and everything.

There is an active Pickleball community here that we met last year and we were determined to learn the nuance of a new game and activity.  After an appropriate quarantine we started showing up at the courts where there is a healthy group of 20-30 people, roughly our age, who play at varying levels.  

They are led by an ex cop, exercise madman named Billy who is obsessive-athletic and a very good pickleball player.  He saw my potential last year and took me under his wing, becoming my personal coach and trainer.  This was going to be my private P-ball mini-camp and a chance to focus on something new and different and non destructive.

Things were going swell with p-ball in the mornings, a swim and hot tub at noon and a ride after lunch and a nap.  I was learning and improving and doing well since I am younger and more mobile than most so I could run around and chase all the wild-man shots.  My body was healing from 40 years of mountain town abuse and feeling better than it had in years.  

After a nice weekend van-camping trip in south west Arizona at Organ Pipe Cactus NP, we came back for a local p-ball tournament after Presidents day.   I was happy to be in the top 4 seed and I was playing with Billy's wife Terry who is an old tennis player and a solid p-ball player.  We were playing the best two guys out there and we were winning 9-1.  

On a nondescript volley I saw the opportunity to move up to the net as Billy had taught me, running not walking.  So I twisted slightly to face the ball and took off from the baseline on my right foot, like I have done a million times.  Halfway through the step I felt a tear and heard a pop in my head as my Achilles tore in half and I howled.   I knew what had happen and what it would entail for the months ahead, before I even hit the ground.