Jit's Journal: Know when to give it a rest

By Published On: November 15th, 2006Comments Off on Jit's Journal: Know when to give it a rest

One of the biggest challenges in ski racing is the ability of knowing yourself inside and out both mentally and physically. For most it takes years of experience to get to a place where they can comfortably make judgment calls on both their health and their approach to the race season.
ONE OF THE BIGGEST challenges in ski racing is the ability of knowing yourself inside and out both mentally and physically. For most it takes years of experience to get to a place where they can comfortably make judgment calls on both their health and their approach to the race season.
    I have been racing all my life and I still have much to learn and figure out when it comes to this. When I feel pain, I try to push through it. When I am tired, I keep working for fear of falling behind or failing. I think that this is a natural instinct of any competitive athlete who strives for success.
    Unfortunately for me, I am learning this the hard way. It was my fear of failure that was a major reason why I blew my knee out last year in France. As I slid on my hip out of the course that day, I was more scared that I wasn’t going to make it to the finish than I was of falling. I tried to save myself from an unrealistic situation by putting my feet down to absorb what I knew would be some extreme G forces and I destroyed my knee. What I should have done is to let it go and live to fight another day. My inexperience and pride caused me to miss an entire year of racing. It is this idea of “learning the hard way” that has brought me to where I am now: on a flight home.
    The snow is falling in Colorado, the technicians are hard at work on our skis and the athletes and coaches are once again preparing for the long season to come. Most times Colorado is a difficult situation. Teams are vying for hill space, the training can be lackluster, and the snow conditions are questionable. But this year the U.S. Ski Team has an entire hill at Keystone to itself. It is by far the best setup the team has had in a long time. The only problem can be getting to the hill, which is on the back side of Keystone. I feel like I’m in a Chevy commercial as we hammer through the snow and mud on the dirt road to get to the back side of the mountain. If those guys were going to shoot a commercial, that would be the spot. The wagon train of Chevys pulls into the parking lot, and we the athletes roll out for another day of training on our private sanctuary.
    My training began much the same way it always does for most camps on the first day — freeskiing. However things soon took a turn for the worse when a recurring injury I fought during the summer decided to make things difficult. I made a forceful turn in the back seat on my slalom skis and a sharp pain shot up through my shin and knee. I knew instantly that things weren’t good. I tried to force the issue and ski another run, but by the time I got halfway down the hill, I had to stop. I slid the rest of the way down to the bottom of the hill, where all of our skis and bags lay. Thoughts ran through my head as to why I couldn’t seem to catch a break from the ski gods. “Why now?” I thought. "What do I do?" "How can I fix this?"
    Prior to arriving in Colorado, I had been finishing the final workouts listed on my athletic schedule before the season moved into full gear. My fear of not being prepared well enough had me working out when I should have just been resting. I was putting strain on my knee when I should have realized that I needed to let it rest. If only I had the gift of foresight.
    Back in Colorado, I sat at the bottom of the hill at Keystone wishing that for just once I could take the "shortcut" instead of the "long route" in this thing called "life." My coach Sasha Rearick and I quickly made the decision to call off skiing at once and take a few days off till my knee and shin could heal.
    Three days of therapy and rest later, I stood atop the plush race hill at Keystone again. This time I was on my giant slalom skis. I started to ski and test out how it felt on my leg. It was nice to finally get some wind in my face for the first time in almost a month. "Not bad," I thought to myself. Things were feeling pretty good. "Let’s do another run."
    On the second run I really opened up the throttle and started to create some good G forces on my leg. "OK, I think I’m going to be all right!" Suddenly I got caught on a ridge in the grooming as I was carving across the hill. My outside ski quickly washed away, leaving my healing leg in a bad position to absorb all my body weight as it collapsed under the pressure. My knee compressed upward, smacking me in the chest, and instantly I felt a sharp pain through my leg. On top of that, I almost took out coaches Johno McBride and Mike Morin, who happened to be standing right there. My shin and knee were right back to where I was three days earlier, and again I sat at the bottom of the race hill in a tough spot; this time knowing that the time trial for the World Cup spot at Beaver Creek was to take place the next day.
    "Why do I always have to beat my head against the wall?" I tried to think how I was going to pull it off. "What should I do? I can’t miss this thing tomorrow!" Finally I realized that I could no longer fight the losing battle. I had been looking forward to the time trial for Beaver Creek since early summer, but I needed to stop. My health for the entire year is much more important than the possibility of some World Cup spot. The look on my face must have said it all because I was definitely bummed out. It’s the same feeling little kids get when their parents tell them that their play time is over. Sasha and I made the call right away — I needed to stop skiing and go home to let it heal before the season starts. "Just let it go," I thought. "Just let it go."
    Two days later I found myself sitting in familiar place — the office of Dr. Terry Orr in South Lake Tahoe, California. Everywhere I turned I saw posters of Daron Rahlves in his immortal glory from victories past, wondering if one day the stars will align so I can finally get out of medical offices and onto the World Cup. Looking at the pictures from my MRI, Dr. Orr explained to me what was causing me pain — bone edema and insertional tendonitis where the patella tendon attaches to the tibia. In other words: Let me take a bat and smack you on the top of the shin and below the kneecap, and then we’ll have something in common. However, like he did when I first met him after tearing my ACL last year, Dr. Orr gave me his usual calm look of confidence that he always has and told me that "things were going to be just fine." Dr. Orr is one of those rare doctors who makes you feel like you’re in good hands no matter what’s going on. The building could be on fire and he’s as cool as a block of ice. If I was going into battle, I’d want him leading the way.
    Where does all this leave me? As I flew home — headed for what looks like another stint in rehab — I knew that I was making the right call. I have too many times in the past pushed my body into a bad place because I didn’t want to feel like I was failing or falling behind out there on the hill. Giving up two weeks now is a small price to pay in order to ski pain-free all year. I think that it is a lesson everyone can take something from. You have to take care of yourself. If your body is telling you something, then listen to it. Don’t fight it. Forget your pride. Rest, recover and play it smart. I think I’m finally
starting to understand that. That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like a little kid stuck inside on a rainy day. But as I recall when I was kid, the sun always seemed to come back around.
    Till next time, take care of yourselves … Jit

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About the Author: Pete Rugh