There is a misconception among friends that since I was able to complete the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail that my knee is magically all better. I am not sure how to politely phrase it to them how incredibly annoyed that makes me. Every single day I am acutely aware that I have scar tissue in my tendon and missing articular cartilage on my patella. I habitually massage my knee whenever I sit down; almost as if subconsciously I believe I can rub the damage away. My knee is never going to be "good" again.

In all probability, gone are the days when I would run a half marathon before breakfast. Those intense trail running days where I would fly through the woods of Forest Park are likely behind me. Not only would attempting to run them be unpleasant, but my orthopedic surgeon believes it would cause more damage in the long term. Alas, the medical technology does not yet exist where we can reliably regrow cartilage and smooth scar tissue.

Obviously, I can still be extremely active with it. Thanks to another month of physical therapy post-trail and constant exercises, I can reliably do three hour bike rides, swim two miles in the pool, and row nearly an hour on the erg without pain. Further, just last evening I was at the gym and after an hour of biking and rowing, I finally pulled off 200 lunges. If I am patient and slowly increase the length and difficulty of my exercises, I can strengthen my knees to a level where I can safely do mountaineering and full day bike rides, perhaps even on consecutive days. Patience and commitment are key though.

I love being active. Prior to my knee injury, I took a special joy in not giving a damn about races or training programs, yet still smoking serious athletes during runs or rides. Whenever people get too serious about stroking their egos, I get bored. Who really cares about PRs? Did you have fun? Was there joy in what you did? Pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion and still grinning is one of the best feelings. Staring at a watch is ever so boring.

Of course, I will never win a race. I lack the discipline and the requisite hardcore psychological quirk that drives athletic people to track their protein intake and heart rate. The idea of flying to another state to run 26.2 miles on pavement? Inconceivable.

My workouts are meant for one thing and one thing only, to permit by body to do even more. I constantly daydream about biking 200 miles in one day (Hood River to The Dalles to Mt. Bachelor), doing another thru-hike, and organizing a weekend adventure race of my own devising with swimming, biking, climbing, and kayaking.

If you ever want to do truly amazing things with your body and push it to point of making things seem effortless, that is how you need to train, not for numbers or ego but for fun and joy. Or, at least, that is what I believe.