Tag Archives: musing

Moaning and groaning … oh yeah, about that shoulder!

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Moaning and groaning … oh yeah, about that shoulder!

Shoulder Anatomy (Credit: Massageitsgoodforyou.wordpress)

Oy … so here’s the story.  Back in December my shoulder started hurting after boxing.  I didn’t think too much of it and let it slide for a while.

By February I noted serious “ows” when I swam–so I stopped doing that, but kept boxing, avoiding things like the right cross.  By March it was still hurting and making “popping” noises so I saw an orthopedist and after getting an MRI got the diagnosis:  A torn labram.  Specifically, I was diagnosed with a SLAP Tear (Superior Labrum from anterior to posterior), a tear where the biceps muscle tendon connects with the labram in the shoulder joint.

Labram Tear (Credit: Healthandfitness101.com)

Here’s a good explanation from About.com: An injury to a part of the shoulder joint called the labrum. The shoulder joint is a ball and socket joint, similar to the hip; however, the socket of the shoulder joint is extremely shallow, and thus inherently unstable. To compensate for the shallow socket, the shoulder joint has a cuff of cartilage called a labrum that forms a cup for the end of the arm bone (humerus) to move within. A specific type of labral tear is called a SLAP tear; this stands for Superior Labrum from Anterior toPosterior. The SLAP tear occurs at the point where the tendon of the biceps muscle inserts on the labrum.

The MRI also showed tendonitis of the supraspinatus tendon (the tendon at the top of shoulder) and bits of inflammation in a couple of other places).

Next up was a course of physical therapy — and no more boxing for the duration.

I worked with a terrific therapist name Eddie who patiently took me through a myriad of stretches and strengthening exercises.

Twice a week I  lay on one of the tables while I had a heat pack applied to my shoulder that felt GREAT–for a few minutes. Next up was a massage and gentle manipulation to try to improve my range of motion–and get me out of pain.

After the heat and massage came the hard part: lots of exercises to strengthen the rotator cuff muscles and improve range of motion which I had already begun to lose. The biggest problem was my shoulder was feeling even more unstable–meaning lots of popping when I moved it plus it hurt even more after PT was done.  In other words, not a great sign.

So … back to the orthopedist I went only to learn that I was also developing a frozen shoulder, meaning my shoulder was stiff and losing range of motion big-time.

I’d already known that I hurt when I tried to move my arm up and to the side or across my body–but the shocker was realizing that I couldn’t scratch my back anymore on my right side. I had also started to wake up in the middle of the night in pain, and trying to put on a sweater was becoming a challenge (not to mention hooking a bra!).

In other words my favorite shoulder Yoga pose was a pipe dream and I could no more do the pose than launch into space.

Options??  Well pretty much only one if I want to gain back the use of my right shoulder — arthroscopic surgery to repair the labram tear, clean up the “junk” around it  and to “unfreeze” those parts of the shoulder capsule that are impeding range-of-motion.

Arthroscopic means that the surgery will be performed through 3-4 small incisions around the shoulder using a camera and specialized surgical instruments.  Depending upon the severity of the repair, tiny ceramic screws may also be inserted to help stabilize the shoulder joint.

Surgery typically runs from one to two hours and may also entail repairs to the biceps tendon depending upon the amount of damage.

Recovery is another challenge. Immediately post-op, patients wear an ice-pack on their affected arm for 72-96 hours and pretty much keep the arm immobilized in a sling for upwards of four weeks.  PT starts pretty early though and patients usually start a course of exercise from about the second day or so.

The prospect of surgery is miserable to say the least — but given that I can’t even run because the motion hurts my arm gives some indication of its necessity.  As my surgeon said, if I want to be active at all, I kinda’ have no choice and given that I DESPERATELY want to box again, onward I march into a summer in recovery mode.

My surgery is scheduled for June 20th at NYU/Hospital for Joint Diseases.  I’ll let you know how it goes from the other side.

For further information on Labral tears here are a few good resources.

Johns Hopkins Orthopedic Surgery

NYU – Shoulder Labral Tear

American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons

Missing the gym …

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Missing the gym …

Gleason's Gym

Okay, I promise this won’t be a “boo hoo” post or anything, but I’ve got to tell you having a boxing related injury plain s-u-c-k-s!  I mean really, I can’t even put a jacket on these days without a yelp, never mind shadow box!  Even my old shower favorite, slip the water streaming out of the nozzle isn’t exactly cutting it and I’ve got to tell you that attempting a run with one arm pasted to the side of your waist is ridiculous!

When I have gone to Gleason’s Gym over the past three weeks, I’ve been downright wistful.  I mean there were tons of women there last Saturday for the second annual All Female Boxing Clinic — exciting right? — and even saw my friend, wait for it blogger Amy Scheer, who’d come in for the clinic, but was I elated?  The answer is no, I actually felt kind of sad.

Well it seems I am not alone in all of this.  Medical scholars are pursuing research in the psychological effects of sports injuries on Saturday athletes like myself on through elite practitioners.

In a journal article for the Journal of Sport Behavior (1994), authors Nancy Quackenbush and Jane Crossman have written that:

… athletes experience feelings of separation, loneliness, guilt and a loss of identity and independence, because they feel that they are no longer vitally contributing to the team and that they are reliant upon others in the rehabilitative process. 

The fact is that athletes and fitness enthusiasts get injured all the time, when injuries necessitate time away from cherished activities, however, it is important to understand that recovery is not only physical.  There can be a psychological component as well.  And just as it takes a long time to build-up skills to a level of one’s own peak performance, rehabilitation of the injury doesn’t happen overnight either.

If I use my own recovery as a case in point, my shoulder rehabilitation is actually progressing.  During my first week of physical therapy, I could only use one-pound weights for certain of the strengthening exercises, however at the onset of my third week I progressed to three-pound weights.  And sure, it still hurts, and on some days worse than others, but I can actually lift my right arm straight up which I couldn’t do at all in my first week.

My basic four rotator cuff exercises. (Curtesy JumpUSA.com, Topic #474)

And I guess that’s part of the secret. Realizing that progress is relative.  That, and giving yourself a kick in the butt for feeling sad at those points when being in a place like your favorite gym usually brings you nothing but joy!

I also came across a helpful article on coping with sports injuries that may be of interest to anyone going through the same thing.  The link to the article by Elizabeth Quinn is here:  Coping with Sports Injuries: Sports psychology strategies for coping with and recovering from injury.

It is worth the read!

Job done and idling.

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Job done and idling.

As often happens after big events whether boxing matches won or lost or worse yet, called as a draw; or in the world of work where major projects are completed and all that is left is the mundane, the hardest part is pushing through to the next big moment, especially when there isn’t one in the offing.

That idle time aka “the devil’s workshop” can wreak havoc with your conditioning whether it’s your physical prowess in the ring or the mental gymnastics you apply to a new task, not to mention that steady spiral to that pesky inertia again where nothing seems to move and one feels wedded to nothing more than bad television, too much ice cream and an otherwise cranky disposition.

Rather like empty streets in the in the morning which one can walk around in at will with no one to jostle you or impede your way; the waiting period can be your opportunity to perform all those personal maintenance tasks you never get to. Such as … have you been to the doctor lately? Had your mammo, colonoscopy, bone density scan, round of blood tests? Okay, I know I’m revealing my age a little bit here, but you can get the point.  Had a massage?  Been to a museum? Cleaned out your closets?  Seen your grandmother? Started that blog? Wrote that short story? Signed up for a computer class?

We all carry our lists around of “things to do” whether it’s the daily list of chores of the pick-up dry cleaning variety or the larger ones that have to do with family, friends and importantly our own personal growth.

Given that I am in the middle of just such a period, I can really, really relate to anyone having difficulty getting “on the stick” so to speak. Suffice it to say, I am grateful to have the chance to write about it in Girlboxing, and thank you all for indulging me as I thrash about trying to get my motivation on!

I will say that while I haven’t quite made it to 300 sit-ups yet this week (I’m at 225 with 14 hours and counting till my midnight deadline), I have made my weekly goal of modified push ups — well, actually, I’ve exceeded that one: 60 = goal, 75 = attained.

Okay, we are not talking about a climb to the top of Everest or running a marathon, the little things do count towards the larger goals, even when those goals are not in focus. And sometimes, those little things add up to opportunities you never considered for yourself, and those sorts of surprises lead you right back to the winner’s circle again.

 

Ten years on …

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Ten years on …

My first memory of the Twin Towers was of watching their construction caught in snippets while walking downtown.  It wasn’t  until construction was completed in April of 1973 that the buildings became something special to me.

I was walking in the village on a foggy evening.  One of those late spring nights with a warm dusting of rain that permeated the air with hints of the summer to come.  Walking down Bleecker Street crossing Sullivan I happend to look south and literally did a dead stop as I took in the magnificence of the two towers alight with a soft glow as they rose up into the mist.  There was something about the image of these two remarkable modern edifices set against the low buildings of the Village that created an indelible picture in my mind; one that I sought out over the years standing on that same spot to reclaim some of the magic of that first vision.

And those buildings did have magic.  The kind of magic that brought Philippe Petit all the way from France to walk between the towers if for no other reason than because they were they.

They were there — a seeming touchstone to my New Yorkness; to the New York I had created for myself all those years ago, standing on Sullivan Street at the threshold to my adulthood.

The towers stood there when I saw them from my grandmother’s kitchen window in Far Rockaway or every time I flew into Kennedy airport or walked across the Brooklyn Bridge or the day I shot several rolls of film photographing them, or the days I’d go to grab a sandwich there after I started working at the Woolworth Building.  All are memories that live as separate pictures in my mind.  Of seeing the buildings in the distance or as enormous edifices that seemed to rise forever as I stood at their edges staring up.

My last vision of them was seeing them on fire through my daughter’s window. And then they simply disappeared in clouds of terrible smoke and ash that lingered for months in our mouths and in our clothing.  A soot and smell that sickened us and killed our hearts.

That ash contained all of our memories and like a sacred fire, the tiny fragments of all of those lives that had been lost.

I truly can’t look at downtown without feeling the hole in the sky.  Even ten years on, I ache for those buildings as a lover who mourns the loss of an old dear friend, only in this case I also feel the loss of friends, colleagues and friends of friends who perished.  I feel the special pain that all New Yorkers feel for the people who died trying to help others escape.  That too is a hole that will never really heal — especially since day by day, those who came to help get sicker and sicker.

Perhaps I reserve the biggest hole in my heart for the lose of the America I loved — we weren’t quite as mean and angry then, and didn’t carry the outward signs of terrible vengeance.  Maybe we always did harbor a streak of Old Testament wrathfulness, but it just didn’t seem as apparent.  I’m sorry for that loss too.

My New Yorkness has had to adjust itself to the new skyline — just as my Americanness has had to adjust to endless war, Guantanamo Bay, financial meltdowns and the realities of the Tea Party.  None sit easily with me, but ever the optimist, I hope for a better day.

Ten years on, I admit to getting on with things and not keeping the memories as fresh wounds that endlessly bleed, still, if I happen to watch a movie from the 70’s, 80’s or 90’s, I feel an incredible ache as I catch sight of their magnificence once more.

Under the gun: Or how I learned patience from the ring!

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Under the gun: Or how I learned patience from the ring!

“I don’t see you studying,” I say.

The prodigal says, “Did you know that the French Revolution started in 1789?”

I say, “yes, but what’s that got to do with biology???“

Prodigal says, “but Mom, I thought you’d like the fact that I know a random fact.”

Ugh!

I hate 6th grade biology.

I hate tests and I hate having been chained to my beloved youngin’ variously cajoling, pushing, pulling, commiserating and otherwise attempting to aid and abet her as she has variously studied, grumped, whined, drifted and finally studied some more for her very b-i-g test tomorrow.

Getting the picture?

We’re talking ten rounds of constant battle and I am up-against-the-ropes losing … badly!

So, what’s to be done as she pushes up from her book to organize a deck of playing cards … PLAYING CARDS?!?!?

BUT … we also have a eureka moment, viruses, bacteria, and now protists done!

And wait … ah ha.  The cards are down and its fungi time — and not only that, I can see that somewhere deep in the recesses of her brain she is thinking, “but I really do want to get a good grade!”

Yep, I’m off the ropes.  She’s quiet, and focusing, fingers flying across the keys of her mac book as she confidently says, “Mom, I’ll be in bed by ten.”

Gaining “umph” in “limp” mode

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Gaining “umph” in “limp” mode

Well I didn’t exactly have the greatest workout ever yesterday as my head throbbed from a pretty intense headache, but I did manage to eek out 10 rounds. The point was to “punch” through it as best I could  — and with Lennox’s help who slowed down to my level of crawl by the forth round of focus pads, I got through that part of my circuit and still managed to hit with some “umph”  as we worked on right-left hook-right and left-right-left hook combinations.

The great thing about getting to Gleason’s yesterday in “limp” mode was feeling the energy of everyone else’s work.  It is the true contagion of the gym and when one is feeling less than stellar getting there anyway is one way of pushing oneself to get over whatever ails — not to urge anyone to go to the gym with a 103 degree fever or anything that overwhelming, but when it’s fairly minor stuff, call it the “walking wounded” feeling, working out, even a truly modified one can help put a little extra something in your step on the way out the door.  In my case, all that sweat and effort helped ease the throbbing, and by the time I got home, my headache was pretty much gone.

One more thing, if your aren’t feeling all that well during your gym time, the double-ended bag can be a nice way of easing into your workout.  It is my preferred warm-up method after some gentle shadow boxing because it is a whole body work-out that can be paced.

The world keeps on spinning

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The world keeps on spinning

As pressed for time as my life is it’s nice to take some moments to do nothing but drift.  By drift I do not necessarily mean gorking-out in front of the TV or getting memorized by online catalog sales.  No, drift time are those moments when the imagination can soar — such as going for a walk where you let your “feet do the walking” instead of taking yourself on a straight line from A to B.

It’s those opportunities for shaking up your tree that lets you take-in things you might not ordinarily see.  Say walking along and only observing the second floors of buildings.  There are some wonderous things to see!  Oddly carved gargoyles, balconies to no where, hand painted signs, and an assortment of drapes and window dressings that ranges from austere Modernism to Rococo to the merely ordinary.

So too with exercising.  You can have solid morning calisthenics, classes you take, routes for your daily run, sacrosanct Yoga DVD’s, and for boxers the set-list of rounds for each type of boxing training plus the time you spend with your trainer.  What’s nice is to spin yourself around by trying something a little bit different.  This sort of drift time let’s your body find its way to where you want to be.  That can mean an entirely new route for your run, yoga poses you never thought you could achieve, or in the boxing gym, a rhythm to your heavy bag or speed-bag work you didn’t know you had.

I guess the point is that we all need to step out of the ordinary so that we can find new ways of doing things.  Whether its writing a story backwards, taking a stab at creating an oddly shaped pot on the potter’s wheel or spinning a globe with your kids and inventing stories about what life would be like if you all lived in those places.  Believe me, nothing earth shattering will happen if you let things unfold without having structured it.  What you might find is a feeling of relaxation and calm that otherwise alludes you as your go about your overly busy day — at least that’s what I’ve found when I remember to give myself the time.

Gym bound!

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Gym bound!

I am determined to get to the boxing gym this afternoon.  I mean really, it’s been weeks, and here I am attempting to keep a blog going on boxing!  Well, okay. So I’ve been busy at work, true.  Busy writing papers for grad school, true.  Busy being a wife and a mom, true.  But, but, but … I say to myself, that is no excuse, sister, get your butt to the gym!   So today, after dropping the prodigal off at her dance class, it’s off to Gleason’s for some serious huffing and puffing as I attempt something resembling a work out.

The plan?  Hmmm. A short run, maybe 15 minutes worth at a slow pace to be followed by three rounds of shadow boxing.  By then I’ll be warmed up and ready for the most embarrassing part, facing my trainer, Lennox Blackmore.  He will be as he always is, the consummate professional with a mushy heart of molten gold — while I shall be mortified by how slow I am, not to mention out of breath by about 30 seconds into the first round!

Oh well.  I’ve been here before and no doubt will be here again.  The point is that I shall haul myself over there to begin anew and after a while feel the absolute thrill of working hard.  Once I get over the initial shock of working out, I really do have to give it my all and find there is nothing so satisfying as feeling my muscles dissolve into the delicious agony of having been worked to death.  Of course there will be tomorrow when I’ve got to work through the obstacle course that is my life lately to get myself back to the gym for a second day, but that is in truth a problem for another day.

PS – Don’t forget to catch the last night of the Women’s International Duel Series bouts tonight live from 9:00 PM to 12:00 AM Eastern Time.  I watched last night and they were terrific.  The link is here.

PPS – Read this GREAT story about women boxers in India who have made extraordinary strides in the recently held Commonwealth Games.  The NY Times has it here.

Also, learn about Mary Kom’s Boxing Academy in the northeastern state of Manipur, India here.