I recently wrote more openly about a frostbite injury suffered during a ski mountaineering trip in the Tetons this past February. That essay touches on my injury, along with additional thoughts about how we travel and make decisions in the mountains. At one point, I discussed having to drive 16 hours home after the incident in a car that didn’t have heat. It’s definitely comical, although it hadn’t been at the time. During that drive I made a pact to myself that I would do what was needed to stay physically and mentally fit. In the past I had seen injuries evolve from being physical problems to psychological ones, and wanted to stay far away from that path.
So, I built a plan to keep training what I could and remained optimistic about future goals. I knew that it would be possible to continue training in some capacity, even if an injured foot meant that skiing and running were out of the question. I anticipated that this might lead to annoying repetitiveness. Core, upper body, hanging on ice tools, rinse and repeat; I’d rather bore of motion than die by lethargy. I also decided to connect with friends who had been injured before, and asked for their advice on the matter. All of their experiences were similar. Rather than struggle with their physical bodies, each of them competed with their minds. What would happen when these two things were intertwined? Movement was the essence of who I was and I wouldn’t let time dictate who I was without.
During my first month of recovery I spent a lot of time laying down with my foot elevated. Each day I would remove the old wound dressing, clean my foot, swab it in iodine, re-wrap it in new, clean gauze, and then swallow down an antibiotic. This was an important part of the recovery process, and over time I started to see the benefits of this self-care. The body is incredible in its ability to heal itself, and after the first month I was able to place more weight on my left foot. The dead tissue and discoloration that had previously consumed each of my toes slowly began to revitalize. In late March, nearly seven weeks after my injury, I was back to trekking in the mountains. By the second week of April maintenance training had begun to shift back towards training for progression.
Early in my recovery I didn't care much for improvement, but rather trying to maintain as best I could the strength and conditioning I had built earlier in the season. I had been on track to have one of my best climbing seasons to date and was looking to get back to an old-self. These workouts generally included easy core and upper-body conditioning. I used my COROS VERTIX 2 watch to track these mini-sessions. The mobile app that pairs with it is a fantastic asset, and I relied heavily on the Training Effect (TE) scale for keeping tabs on intensity. Basically, TE evaluates training efficiency for both aerobic and anaerobic fitness based on training load and intensity and attaches a specific score to each workout. Being able to check metrics after each workout (and keep myself within the Maintaining range) ensured I was staying on top of my general strength. As light conditioning bled over into actual training (and life stabilized) I was able to take better advantage of the watch's capabilities. I relied more heavily on metrics derived from each training session, reviewed recovery needs, and tracked sleep patterns. Output began to grow, and it was motivating to see these numbers actualized on paper.
Because of my injury I had to cancel numerous trips from February through April. I was still training what I was able to, but outside of this I found myself sitting on the couch rather than climbing ice in Canada or attempting spring projects in Alaska. Thankfully, I’m a person that kindles many fires. Summer travel plans across the U.S. started to become a reality again, and an expedition to Peru’s Cordillera Blanca acted as a main motivator to keep my head down.
Even with this, I knew I would need additional projects to keep my mind occupied. The trips I had canceled were a combination of personal and work-related (I teach photography workshops), so I had two months of time on my hands and a relatively open schedule. In addition to training I started writing more, concepted a new website, and taught my first series of online webinars. At the same time, the updates I received from my physician grew more positive. After an uncertain beginning, I was finally cleared of the need for amputation or surgery in any form. This was a huge relief! The combination of training, personal projects, future expeditions, and continual, positive news regarding my foot helped keep my spirits high.
Fast forward three months and I’m close to moving like I was pre-injury. Dedication and passion have fueled my recovery, and I’m beginning to feel strong again. My first day back climbing was pure bliss; it was like riding a bike. The many nights I had spent hanging off of my ice tools from mid-February through April had paid off. I expected to lose a touch of endurance, and have, but the movement and strength are there. I forced myself into leading again from pitch one, not stopping until I clipped the chains. And damn it felt good.
These past few weeks I have been able to weight my foot without pain or sensitivity, which has translated to working through progression in aerobic work, mainly running. I started on the treadmill, which provided a constant grade and stable platform. It was tolerable for my foot and allowed for continual progress and moderation. I’ve tracked each run using the COROS phone app, utilizing my training metrics to better understand how and when to rest, and combining these metrics with my body’s intuition to adapt my training to my specific injury recovery needs. Although starting on a treadmill was great, I quickly grew tired of running for hours inside a dimly lit 15’ x 20’ room. My aerobic endurance was coming back in waves and I wanted to push myself outside.
Last year I visited Marble, Colorado, a small town that sits just southeast of McClure Pass. At the time I thought it would be fun (and engaging) to bike the pass, but I’m not much of a cyclist. I am however a slight masochist! Mentally, I needed an inflection point; something I could use to prove to myself I was back on my feet. Literally. I decided that I wanted to run the pass, and enlisted a good friend of mine to join. Another would follow us to the top with a car (and make a few images along the way). We threw ourselves at it. Starting a half-mile from the Highway 133 junction, we progressed upwards step-by-step. My only goal was to move without stopping, and I accomplished it. Patrick and I stood at the top of the pass with a time of 46:40. Pairing the run of McClure Pass with multiple days of climbing was the mental shift I needed.
This time off was significant in that it allowed for a lot of reflection. It nurtured my love for living a life in the mountains and opened my eyes to the privileges of having a capable body. It also showed me, again, that I have a community of people standing behind me, helping me along my path. I want to give a special thank you to my family, my partner Bria, my close friend and ski partner at the time of my injury, Carter Stritch, all of the medical professionals who aided in my recovery, the COROS team, and everyone else who has helped or reached out along the way.
I’m ready to get back into the mountains, something I’ve desired since the day I was injured. It will be some time before I’m fully recovered, but I’m ready to attack the future just as I have these past few months.
– Alex Joseph
