Lindsey Vonn Made Me Cry This Morning

I know that some of you reading this will say “oh, c’mon,TKR rehab is not THAT bad”. But on January 9, 2025, my balky left knee — which was ‘scoped in ’97 — finally was replaced.

I originally injured it on a morning like today. It was around 7 degrees F and I headed to the first session at the Prospect Park skating rink. It was glorious. The sun was shining Colorado blue. Windless. I quickly warmed up and started going around and around and around, lost in space. In a zone, my concentration lapsed and I stumbled around the cross-over turn.

I fell arms-out and knew instantly that I broke my wrist. I was lucky, for there are so many little bones in there. My wrist healed quickly. I never really noticed the swelling in my left knee when I fell. But the swelling got worse. And then, there was the stiffness and pain.

It would lock. Unlock. Click. Clack. I was still fairly young and realized that I could not play sports anymore on this knee. My PCP recommended his orthopedic surgeon in Manhattan. He was very conservative, and we tried various treatments and braces.

Finally, I had arthroscopic surgery for the meniscus tear. I was on a valium drip and watched the doctor abrade the cartilage on the monitor. It was very cool. They used little tools similar to the Black & Decker stuff I used as a model-maker when I was a kid.

They wrapped the knee, I went home that afternoon, and began rehab soon after. I saw some blood seepage through the bandages as I watched TV with my leg elevated on a cushion in our Brooklyn living room

It took time to trust the knee, but I got back on the court in around eight weeks, and played as good (as mediocre, actually) as ever.

The years passed, and the knee became a problem again, for I never gave up playing sports deep into middle age. This was very unlike my dad. My dad served in WWII and fought the Nazis and, when he came home, I don’t think he ever played sports — or did anything physical — again, save for a few softball games where I caught glimpses of the athlete he once was. But he was home, safe and sound, and his buddies lay dead in the Ardennes forest, and I think his mind was forever in a very bad place. So he ate, and drank, and smoked his Raleighs. And that was about it.

I gained lots of weight over the years (business lunches!), but still played sports on my creaky left knee. It got worse and worse. I finally went to new orthopedic specialists in Manhattan. These surgeons were also very conservative, and we tried cortisone, hyaluronic acid, black Darth Vader braces with inflatable side pillows, NSAIDs — everything short of surgery.

My physical trainer’s thighs were like Earl Campbell’s. I knew she could fix me.

I was finally told: strengthen your leg muscles, lose a lot of weight, and then if it still is painful, let’s talk about other measures.

I dropped 65 pounds over two years (and, no, I didn’t use the new drugs) and worked in the gym with a trainer who had blown out her own knee 12 years earlier on the moguls of Killington. She is a triathlete and black belt in mixed martial arts. Her quads look like young Eric Heiden. Actually, like Earl Campbell, who played for Houston.

“I know how to build up a knee,” she told me when I interviewed her about helping me in the gym. I looked at her muscled legs and believed her.

There were some exercises I couldn’t do because my knee would click click pop pop and each time pain would shoot up my leg. I finally went back to my doc and we scheduled the total knee replacement.

That’s my new knee. See the titanium plates, and screws? Pretty cool, huh?

My surgeon explained the post-op deal: two weeks of at-home rehab (a guy came twice a week to get me walking and doing my exercises up and down the hall), and twice daily stretching and bending with a yoga strap, weights, heating pads, ice packs, etc. My wife was my at-home tech, and she killed me. “C’MON!” she’d push. “DO THIS!”

I got a measly eight tabs of Oxycodone. “Gee, can you spare it?” I asked. “Take NSAIDs as needed,” he answered. Not like the old, pre-Sackler days of “stay ahead of the pain”, that’s for sure.

After the two weeks of at-home PT, I went to a local facility three times a week for exercises. Plus, I continued to exercise at home twice a day. As I said, some of you will say “oh, c’mon, what a pussy!” but HOLY SHIT DID IT HURT!!!

The tech would give me heat, “stim”, and massage and then THE TORTURE. The bending, and lifting. “Breathe!” she would command. “It’s only pain. Get through it!”

One time, as she tried to get me to 100 degrees of flexion (which is nothing), I banged the treatment room wall with my fist and screamed so loudly the owner came running in to see if everything was alright.

“It’s just Marty doing his TKR flexion,” tech said with a shrug. “C’mon, your surgeon wants you to get to 115.”

“NFW,” I said. But, in time, I got there.

So why did Lindsey Vonn make me cry this morning? Because this happened:

Yes, she is 41. Yes, she “retired” some years ago, after she got the partial right knee replacement.

She blew out her left ACL last January 30. So her right knee, with the replacement, was now her “good” knee. Her docs are top notch and I’m sure she was properly braced for competition.

But it HAS to physically hurt. I mean, she blew out her ACL nine days ago! I know as a recreational player how hard it is to rehab a knee. It took me the better part of the year to get to 115 degrees of flexion. And that’s not a lot.

And here she goes out for the downhill at the Olympics with two bum knees, in just a few days! Eighty miles an hour, no padding, at Cortina. She clipped a gate, got off kilter, and augured in.

I logged on to the news this morning and read the reports. Brave Lindsey crashed. After all that hard work. After all that pain.

Was it worth it? Yes.

Tick-tock. Time is fleeting.

We are all here but for a brief time. Go for it! Don’t waste time. Try! Every day! My four best friends and I are all in the autumn of our years. Each one pushes the pedal. One is a touring musician. One is a poet. One is a photographer. One is a media specialist. I continue to write stories, learn piano, play sports.

It’s worth the pain, mental and physical, and the work. Build up your sand castles as high and as majestically as you can. Because sure as shootin’, the tides will come in and knock them down — so why not make your mark while you can?

These days, I’m in the gym building leg strength three times a week. It’s cold now, but by April, I’ll be on the courts, to see how that brand-new knee of mine works. Maybe it’ll be solid, maybe not. But I’m gonna try.

Lindsey did it, and so will I.

Allez, Lindsey! ALLEZ!!!