The other day I noticed that my father wasn't climbing stairs as well as he used to. At some point in the past, his knee stopped working as well as it did. I know it's always been a weak knee, he injured it playing football a lifetime ago and it's never been the same. He's favored it ever since and it would occasionally cause him some problems.
However, this was new. He was climbing stairs one step at a time, like a child. He would use the leg with the good knee to step up to the next step, then he'd use that and his arm to pull the other leg up to the same step. Then he'd repeat the same process all the way up. Going down was the reverse. I'm probably not explaining it well, but it's the slow way of climbing stairs and you rarely see anyone do it other than the very young and the very old.
It struck me that somewhere in the past, he had stopped trusting the knee. Maybe it gave out on him on one step and he nearly fell. Or maybe it was painful. It could have been anything, the cause doesn't matter. What does matter was at that moment he had a choice.
He could either work hard at overcoming it or he could accept that his future included a knee that didn't really work.
Unfortunately, he chose the latter, as many of us do. The work was hard, the risk was high, and the inconvenience of failure wasn't so bad. After all, he'd still get up and down those stairs, he'd just be a little slower than before. So he accepted defeat, resigned himself to it, and started taking the stairs one at a time. Prior to this, he had lots of options. He could keep trying. He could try to build up the strength in that knee and rehab it. He could have gone for another surgery -- it's been many decades since a doctor has seriously looked at it, and there's been tons of advancement in rebuilding knees. He could have lost some weight -- something my father has always struggled with -- and helped his diabetes in the process, but his love of food won that battle too.
Now, his knee is far weaker than it ever was before, and it will continue to get weaker the more he uses its weakness as an excuse for "can't do". This is similar to the hole we all dig for ourselves. I should have gone to law school, I just talked myself out of it at the right time in my life. I could still do it, but it will require severe sacrifices that I may not be willing to make. Then again, I looked at it four years ago and said, "can't do". Looking back, I realize that not much would have changed about my life if I had done it, except for the fact that I'd have the law degree I wanted. Now I look it at with the same eyes and say, "yeah? Now? Can't do, man. Too old. Too far along. Can't make the sacrifice." All excuses. Will I go for it? Probably not, because I've got other irons in the fire that I want to make happen more and that I believe will have a better and faster payoff in the end. But if I didn't have those prospects? Damn straight. Nut up and make something of your life. Swing for the fence.
Postscript: I feel the need to state that while my father gave up on getting up and down those stairs gracefully, he didn't give up on getting up and down them. He still goes out there and makes things happen -- he even trucked his ass all around The Circuit of the Americas at the Grand Prix last year, probably just to show everyone he can still do it. He probably doesn't even see where he gave up on his knee, and it's only one small failure in a life full of success stories big and small. It's just a small thing that I noticed and felt it was a good subject to blog about.
See, I have a similar problem. Through an accident in college, I also acquired my own trick knee. I think there's some torn cartilage in there, but I've never had it scoped. It's just that some times it wants to dislocate again and sometimes it's just painful -- usually just after I've taken a prolonged absence from working out. I've been tempted to use it as an excuse many times. I can't finish this run because my knee hurts. I can't finish this run because my knee wants to give out. I can't squat this weight because my knee might do something funky. Every time I fight through it, I find my knee emerges stronger than before and it doesn't do it the next time. Now I work at it. I wear a brace when I have to and I do special exercises to strengthen the muscles around the joint.
As a result, I'm running 5ks now at a pace I thought was impossible before. But I could have used it to say "too hard, can't do" and cheated myself. I don't know what your obstacles will be, but I promise you'll see them every day. Every day there will be an excuse to quit, to cheat yourself, to do less than you can. Don't give in. Look the pitcher in the eye, tell him to give you his best shot, and swing.
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