My first love letter

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Dearest Angie,

We have been together for almost ten years now. You were my first. I know I wasn’t yours. You know that I love you to paint you myself. Carefully craft you,  white wall tyres. Finger your carburetor forever until you are pleased and I find pleasure in yours. Slow you down for every pothole and speed breaker, so you do not feel rattled. You know that I love you enough to polish you every time I know you are going out some place important. I take pride in you. I show you off. I am proud of every time you have made people check me out. Especially for helping me create that image when we were in college that If I gave a girl a ride on my bike, it is because I deem her worthy enough to sleep with. Every controversy we created back then, every trick up my sleeve and under your seat. You know I loved you more than any of those girls. We had some good times and I promise you greater times ahead.

You also need to know that I hate you. I hate you for all the things you are not. You are not a modern piece of engineering. Your technology is almost 60 years old and you yourself are 34 years old and I am only 27 and I take you for granted because of this. I do not have a professional mechanic take care of you because Your technology is simple. I can do it myself. I sometimes forget to treat you like you still are my first love. Believe me, there are days more than you’d imagine when I eye that hot piece of Austrian or Japanese set of two wheels that the other boys are ripping around in. Sometimes annoyingly so in full motorcycle gear when they’re only going out to get milk from one street away. I have even told myself, I deserve better not this old piece of shit. You give my blisters! On my palms and under my feet when you do not start and I have to keep kicking you like I was possessed. I hate that I have been stuck with you for 10 years now. The only reason I even bought you is because you were the only one I could afford. When all my friends had their dads shell out money to get them scooters, my ego wanted me to buy myself a bike. That is the reason we are stuck together. You are with me because I could only afford to buy you from my first salary. Because I am cheap! But you do not know how much I have spent on parts and don’t even get me started on your drinking problem.

I am too  much of a coward to tell you these things when we have our heart to hearts out on the highway or when you just wont start at the side of it. Because I know these things will upset you and I cannot deal with your wrath afterwards. I might have to walk or worse push your old ass home. That is why I choose to write these things to you and I forbid you from reacting in any form other than writing. Take advantage of being literate for a Day and write back to me how you feel about this and about me and please be done with it. Please do not behave like all the other women who are trained to ferment and argument and deploy it like a strategic strike of daisy cutter.

Love,

aniSh

Crusade #2: Run-Purpose definition

There was no update on the success of this crusade today. Well, I owe an explanation. Here.

xray scan3
For that X-ray image to make basic sense, it is an X-ray of my left ankle joint and clearly I have a broken Fibula.
For that statement to make deeper sense, at the bone level, we’re going to use my time machine and flash backwards in time a few months.

The morning of 16th November, 2013. 0430hrs, North Bangalore, India

16 Days into running everyday. A cold morning. Returning from an eye-opening and highly unproductive day at the stupid film studio I work at, I ran out of fuel on my  1987 Yezdi Classic motorcycle. With insufficient cash at hand, I managed to push the motorcycle for the last 2kms home. Washed my face and hit the bed to rest my eyes for 30 mins, in all hopes of going for my euphoric morning run where I had battled over shin splits and gloriously won! My body was so tired that I did not wake up until after 1100hrs. No run today! The schedule was now gone to hell. Following  day, a Sunday, laziness had crept in and I failed to go for my run again.

18th November, 2013. 0600hrs, Home, North Bangalore, India

A very pleasant morning, perfect for a run and to beat that schedule back into my body. I ran! It felt good. I did manage to beat my personal best time of running for 18 mins non-stop, covering 3kms.  I achieved this 18 days into running. I was proud. A few minutes into the run and I had noticed that there was a slight amount of discomfort that turned to mild pain around my left ankle around the side of the shin area. As I continued running, I forgot all about it. Along with everything else I want to forget about. Precisely my point of running. I just thought that it could be shin splits coming back due to the break I took.

As I walked home, proud of what I had done and calculating how fast I could achieve running 10kms non stop, I noticed a slight limp in my left leg which, by the time I reached home a few minutes away turned into unbearable pain. I iced the ankle and carried about my day, which mostly consisted of sitting in front of my home computer and watching videos on the Internet. As I climbed down from my room every time, I realized the pain was getting worse. By the time I came down for my evening tea, I noticed a nasty swelling in my left ankle to a point where I could not even walk properly. I got spooked as this was an ankle I had broken a few years back, right around this time of the year. That fracture left me in a cast for a month and the bed for two. The worst time of my life! Also the time I broken my heart and there was nothing I could really do about either. Helplessness had a whole new definition ripped out for itself in my life.

I called up a friend of mine to take me to the doctor close by, he promptly showed up. I narrated everything to the doctor who ran a humble orthopaedic clinic. A very sweet old man, he patiently listened to me and then suggested that I get an X-ray done. I was shitting my pants now, the first and last time I had taken an X-ray two years ago, it turned out that I had a broken fifth metatarsal for what seemed a rather stupid accident while at a photography shoot covering an event. The x-ray came in and I was told that there was definitely a displacement of a ligament that held my ankle together, but no broken bones. And that the gap between my bones had increased due to the displaced ligament. I was advised not to run, give full rest and keep my ankle wrapped up in tape, elevated and give it 3-5 weeks before I run again.

xray scan2

I am destroyed at this point. because, nothing was working out in my life, no proper job, no new photography assignments coming in and I was already losing my confidence, the only thing I was getting good at was running. And now, that was taken away from me. After I showered the good doctor with questions up to the point of annoyance, I researched a lot about ankles in general and discovered how wonderful they were by design in all their structural complexities and the simplicity with which us humans tend to disregard them.

Three weeks down the line and the swelling that had disappeared made a negative comeback. I went to the hospital that had treated my broken ankle two years ago. As I thought they’ll have all my files and would be better prepared to treat me and answer another butt-load of my questions. I told the new doctor that I might have possibly aggravated the sprain by walking a little bit more than prescribed. I was taken to a senior doctor who immediately called all the interns into his cabin and turned my ankle into a feel and tell model. He commended that I had the perfect pair of flat feet for running and that I should take a little more care in wearing padded shoes as I run on paved roads mostly. He inspected my ankle closely, compared it to my right one and was absolutely sure that there was no fracture and told me to keep it wrapped in tape and not even wear an ankle brace and to give it additional rest of a few more weeks and to do all the ankle strengthening physiotherapy I was already doing. So I figured its mid December already, I’ll wait till the new year to start running again.

December is now over, the new year has begun. Just a small button like swelling remained on the side of my shin, I went in to the hospital again to get permission to run. I was told the swelling would remain for a few more months and die down eventually. After testing my ankle for strength and flexibility by a completely new doctor to the case, I was told to give an additional 2 weeks rest and to start running again, slowly, but steadily. I was satisfied with this answer. No heart-bursting remorse that I’d have to wait longer.

I picked up an exercise program that consisted of light Cardio and muscle-building to be done at home. I forgot all about running for a while, but I knew I always wanted to get back to it. My ankle was now able to handle all sorts of jumping exercises. I would walk everyday for 30 mins. I lost 5kgs in 6 weeks. I was eating healthy too.

The batteries of my time machine have been fully recharged, now lets take a trip and land on 25th February, 2014

A slightly warm morning,  you can tell summer is fast approaching. The working out and morning walks had hard-wired an early morning schedule into my brains. I forgot all about my very successful getting shredded workout, put my new shoes on that I bought for running and thought, let’s test this thing out. It was only Rs. 1200/- and had been excellent so far. But can it take the running? Lo and behold, it can! And very well indeed. (take that, morning walkers who look like a sporting brand showroom puked on them) All the reduced weight, and squats helped me run for 12 mins non stop. I felt a tingle in the same point in my ankle where that last button like swelling had remained a month back. I got back home, dipped my legs in a bucket of ice water and I was fine. Let me remind you, my personal and mostly important professional life hasn’t gotten any better. But my appearance certainly had. So I carried on with my day of writing random stuff for myself, the other crusade of learning to drive and more internet videos. Day two, ran for 13 mins non stop. The tingling feeling now turned to some amount of discomfort and then pain. That annoying button like swelling was now back. Icing did not seem to help much. Climbing down stairs was now a little problematic. I decided to run tomorrow and then go back to the doctor. There was this feeling that with a broken bone and displaced ligament, this was my “anish’s ankle,” dangling over my head. I ran for about 11 mins before I stopped and got back home to go straight to the doctor.

At the hospital where the nurses and staff of the orthopaedic department now seem to recognize a familiar face in me, I was greeted by yet another doctor, who had actually taken the time to read my files before I got into his office. After yet another narration of all that I went through, he has now got me to lie down and is testing out my ankle for its strength. He then pokes and presses on that little button like swelling from hell and it hurts just like its address.

I was not prepared for what the doctor told me next. He said that swelling is the result of a previous fracture just like he would have read the symptoms in his diagnostics book. My heart sank. And my mind remained puzzled with one question: “What the bloody hell does he mean by a previous fracture?” it’s not like I’m a 90 year old gentleman who had a very successful career as a red bull athlete to have previous fractures that I don’t remember of. I was ordered another X-ray. The X-ray tech was surprised to see a boy who seemingly walks perfectly come into his lab and ended up asking me in a very sweet voice that perfectly matched her little figure, “What happened to you?” In all my startled mind, I said , “Ankle sprain” and smiled. The X-ray was done and I did not have the guts to see it myself.  Plus I have no fu*king clue about reading X-rays. The X-ray is opened up on the doc’s computer and he goes. See, that’s where the fracture was and points out to my mangled looking fibula. I go, “holy fu*k!” He then explains that when I sprained the ankle in November, I also cracked the bone, but since the pieces of the bone did not get displaced, it wasn’t easy to figure out. And then he says, that I basically ended up fixing a fractured bone without ever wearing a cast. Like that makes it all better!

Now, I have bone that has not healed itself fully from a fracture that hadn’t been discovered until the bone irregularly fixed itself to up to 80%, a bunch of idiot doctors who did not figure it out in the first place, a new and greater sense of disrespect towards all doctors,  another month’s time of rest before I run again and that bloody fuc*ing feeling that my ankle is fu*ked up from a stupid accident once and then once again from nothing but running! No jumping out of a plane without a parachute, no jumping a motorcycle from ramps, no extreme downhill mountain biking. But, simple plain old running. Have you seen how mentally kids run around in school during lunch? I did not even do that to break my bone.

Why is this all such a huge deal to me? Apart from the earlier mentioned fact that my life is a complete mess and disability of any kind isn’t a morale booster. While growing up, I have had a lot of friends who have broken all sorts of bones for all sorts of reasons. I personally believed that I could never break a bone. I should have known that I was only lying to myself as I had stopped drinking milk at a very young age. It shouldn’t be a surprise that my bones tend to snap like twigs for the seemingly little things. Also, as bad as a time of my life I’m having right now, nothing has been worse than that first time I broke my ankle and went into a cast. It was an unstoppable domino downfall after that. And since then anything to do with bones only takes me back to that dark and ugly place all over again.

Broken bones heal, I know they heal, they heal very well too. I told you, I have many friends with broken bones. But the broken bones are never going to be original. You’ll know the amount of scarring left if you see the very appropriately named TV series, BONES. Even healed broken bones are well, not OEM, like the manufacturer intended it to be. At this very juncture in life, where I am giving up on the stock configuration and contemplating designs and procedures all by myself to customize my 1987 Yezdi motorcycle into a more modern and practical ride simply because the original parts are not any easier to find and with a strong understanding of whatever I have learnt from reading “Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance” by Robert L Pirsig. I declare that, “if done right, maintenance and customization can lead to better than better than stock performance.”  If you have not figured it out yet, that I am a motorcycle freak, I’d like to quote from one of my favorite motorcycle movies, Ghost rider. Nicholas Cage playing Johnny Blaze goes, ” I’m gonna own this curse, and I’m gonna use it against you.”

I shall wait, lying in the shadows, preparing, strengthening myself and then one day, sooner or later. Run! Run again and Run!