In front of my house when I returned from my trip West.
For Christmas, 2021, we headed to Pocatello, Idaho, where my older daughter, Ananda, is living. After the 20-hour drive, my hip was so locked up that I could hardly walk. Ananda is a mental-health counselor but also is a certified athletic trainer, so she took me to a nearby gym to improve both my mood and my hip. For years, I hadn't stood in shorts in front of a full-length mirror, but she had me watch my form as we lifted weights. What I saw instead was that my left leg was substantially less muscular than my right.
As did many people, during Covid I sat too much, often with poor posture and legs crossed. Stiff when I would stand, I no doubt favored my one leg when I exerted myself, such as walking up steps. I began to feel that my left leg was shorter than my right. And it was definitely weaker. Continuing to favor it simply amplified the imbalance.
When I returned from Pocatello, I finally went to see my doctor. After examining me and sending me for x-rays, his first comment was, "We could do hip surgery." Not what I wanted to hear. So I started physical therapy and joined the Y. Unfortunately, after a couple of PT sessions, the therapist really had nothing new to suggest that I wasn't already doing at the Y, so I stopped going. A while later, I decided to give a chiropractor a try. The practice has evolved considerably since its early pseudoscience origins, and like in many fields, a lot depends on the individual professional. I was lucky to find a chiropractor who listened, took my concerns seriously, and really helped reduce the pain. He gave me exercises and stretches to do and, more importantly, he gave me hope that if I put in the time and effort, I could overcome my problem.
One of the key motivations at the time was that my sabbatical application was already approved most of the way through the process, and a key part was my motorcycle trip out west. But I could hardly throw my leg over the seat, hold up the motorcycle I had at the time, nor ride long without severe hand cramps. How could I possibly ride 5000 miles, climb off and on the motorcycle, climb in and out of my one-person tent, and go hiking?
I got to work. Slow, sustained stretching helped the most. Learning to release the tension on my psoas muscle was life-changing. And building muscle in the left leg then began.
But I was still anxious about a long trip on the motorcycle. That's when I decided to get the Africa Twin. It made the trip possible:
- Heated hand-grips and cruise-control combined to eliminate most of the cramping in my hands.
- The DCT eliminated the clutch and the need to shift with my left foot (on my weak side.) I'd had a Honda with DCT previously, and I loved it.
But the Africa Twin is an adventure bike---tall and relatively heavy compared to my previous motorcycles. I dropped it twice before I headed out west, snapping off the front-brake lever and damaging the grip guard. I was getting pretty anxious---had I bought too much bike for me to manage?
So I got to work. I began regularly going to a parking lot to do slow-speed turns and figure-8s. Stopping and starting. Like those of many riders, my falls had all occurred at slow speeds---stops or starts. I watched videos, read online, and talked to other riders.
The key to the DCT is this: It will slip the clutch for you if you apply a bit of throttle at the same time as applying rear brake. You can creep along, barely moving---and not falling.
I grew more hopeful. I did an overnight camping trip into Wisconsin---successfully---a chance to try out camping gear on the motorcycle. Finally, I felt ready to go.
I headed West. And dropped the bike twice! Both times were a few feet from where I'd parked it to camp, starting up on uneven gravel, both times more embarrassing than hurtful, though I once again snapped the brake lever. In hindsight, I was hesitant, not confident of my skills on gravel, and I paid for it. So I watched some more videos and kept practicing. I rode dozens of miles on gravel. I chanted "Power to the rear wheel" to myself as I started off. And I got better.
To my students, this may all seem irrelevant, but it's not. 1) Part of getting better is having hope that if you apply yourself, you can indeed get better. 2) There are tools that can help. Find them and use them. 3) Practice builds confidence. 4) You'll probably fail/fall sometimes, get a blow to your confidence, and wonder if you can succeed. 5) Get help, and keep practicing. 6) Finally, in the long run, you are the one who defines what success looks like. I made the trip. I had to stop every hour or so and stretch my hips and hands, but then I climbed back on and rode some more. And it was beautiful.
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