I’m sitting, staring at the opposite wall of my physiotherapist’s treatment room. In my mind, I'm playing with the shapes of the calligraphy on a certificate mounted there. With the information presented to me I realise that this is where it ends, this is the moment the burning desire within me to compete at the Olympic Games is snuffed out.
A whole lot of radio silence is all that this blog has experienced for almost seven months. Here's a brief catch up.
The homuncular refreshment from the previous blog post was promising for a while until the increases in muscle function slowed. Months later, the next step was another in-depth investigation by my physiotherapist of what was actually not working properly and why. The result was a fascinating and specific clinical explanation of what was wrong. The anatomical and physiological theory behind 'why' and 'how' is quite complicated, if anybody wants to know more feel free to contact me and I’d be happy to elaborate. Basically, the lower portion of my left gluteus maximus muscle (the big fleshy bum muscle that produces a lot of the power during a rowing stroke) had lost a lot of it's bulk and was much weaker than my right one. In what was a last ditch attempt to save my elite rowing career I was prescribed some very specific exercises to complete in the gym to regain the strength and muscle bulk I had lost in that area. Alas, eight weeks down the track even though some basic testing showed an increase in strength, the amount of increase in muscle bulk was much less than expected and there was an increase in size of the muscles that have been compensating.
So, as time goes on there is more and more evidence that my 'exploding' disc has done permanent damage to some of my nerves. I need the muscle/s these nerves supply to complete an elite level training load without causing further damage to structures in my lower back. Plain and simple.
As I have been coming to terms with what is happening the old 90s television commercial above popped into my head. I think it simplistically sums up the situation with some much-needed humour.
The constant thought that "just giving up on the fight is the easy way out" has kept me going until now. In the end, the decision to stop has really been made for me by my body. However, it has been a hard fight and hard fights take their toll. This is why, even though part of me is devastated, there is a part of me that is relieved that I don't have to fight anymore.
I look back on my time rowing at an elite level and come to the conclusion that I wouldn't have done it any differently. Behind my constant overthinking is the person that I am: just doggedly determined to succeed no matter the challenge. However, I am living proof that determination and hard work is not all you need in elite sport. I now need to find something else to satisfy this part of my personality.
A heartfelt thank you to all that have supported me and have ridden this rollercoaster with me. To those that have doubted me (including myself), at least you can't say I didn't try. After all, I was just fighting to continue to do something I was good at and enjoyed while chasing a dream.
In the words of world champion surfer Mark Occhilupo, “thanks very much – and thanks”.
