“We’re going to have to stop meeting like this.”

 

For the second time this year, I’ve gone under the knife. You might recall that back in the summer that I had a mountain bike wreck that broke some ribs and collapsed a lung. A chest tube and hospitalization followed that.

Well, last week, I had a double hernia repair. Be warned that this may contain more information than you want to hear, but I promise it will be all PG.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a hard workout on Monday, a mountain bike ride on Tuesday, and had just finished an early hour on the stationary bike when I jumped in the shower to get ready for my work day. As I showered, let’s say, “down there,” I felt this ping pong ball in my right groin.

Being the worry-wart that I am and having a primary care physician (Dr. Kevin Turner) that is accommodating and understands me, I went immediately to his office where he declared “Joe, that’s the easiest diagnosis I’ll have today—you have a hernia.”

OK. So be it. What followed the next week were lab studies, a contrast CT, and a visit with surgeon Dr. Stephen Pacifico. About Dr. Pacifico:  He played linebacker for us at MHS and has made a fine surgeon. I have all the confidence in the world in him.

Yep, it was a hernia. And yep, I needed surgery, which was scheduled for the following week. Oh, and there was a hernia on the other side too.

Back up a bit to the why. Dr. Pacifico and I agreed that while I might have the muscles of a 30 year old, I have the connective tissue of a 70 year old. And I do lift heavy stuff from time to time. I lift heavy weights, sometimes assist with transfers of heavy patients, and I work hard on the farm. Not to mention the 99 V-ups that I did in that Monday workout.

Hernias don’t just happen to old people like me either. I’ve had younger athletes that have had them. They can happen to any active individual, although they happen to men more than women.

So, now it’s time for the fix. On Dr. Pacifico’s recommendation, I chose a laparoscopic procedure, with both hernias being repaired through the same small holes. On that Wednesday, now a week and a half ago, I reported to Blount Memorial Outpatient Surgery. After check in, Scott the RN took me back and pretty much stayed with me until they took me back for surgery.

Thorough and friendly, Scott has been a traveling nurse for the last few years and has been to some cool places. I’m not using last names here because frankly, I don’t remember them. Keep in mind, the sedation process had already started.

Nurse anaesthetist Lakosha (spelling?) was next and was super. One of the nurses that took me back was Christy and she was friendly and memorable. I don’t remember the other nurse’s name but Christy was the one holding my hand when they finished sedating me.

About that moment. I’m human. I was pretty cool about the whole thing up until that moment. My BP was still good but I was admittedly anxious at that point. The entire surgical team, Christy, the other nurse that took me back, the two scrub nurses, Lakosha, and the anaesthesiologist (I can’t remember her name either but she was good) gathered around me and told me “we are going to take really good care of you.”

I remember that! And the next thing I know, I’m waking up with a sore belly and another nurse that I’ve known for a while, Montana.  She was a student trainer at Heritage High School and Maryville College, and while at MC was the recipient of the Carl H. Black Outstanding Student Trainer Award, named after my dad.

Needless to say, it was awesome to see her. I know that she is the best. Oh, and Dr. Pacifico had filled my wife in on the surgery. It was way more complicated than he had expected but it all went well.

To wind this story down, I’m fine. I’m back at work. I’m being a good patient. And I won’t be doing V-ups for a while. But my experience through all this has been what health care should be all about.

Every day: back pain

It has been estimated that 80% of adults have an episode of significant low back pain in their lifetime. If you think you are in that 20% that hasn’t, then you better be doing everything you can to protect your back—the odds are stacked against you.

I suppose everyone that lives long enough will have some sort of back pain. I think I’m in that 20% but I’ve had an achy back from time to time, mostly when I’ve overdone it.

I had one of those man-on-the-street encounters last week that my wife has learned to tolerate as part of being my wife of over 47 years. We were in this fellow’s place of business when he asked if I had any advice for him in dealing with his back pain.

More specifically, he asked me if there were any stretches that he could do to help his back. I have no idea how many times I’ve been asked that exact question.

It doesn’t matter what body part it is, a lot folks think that the only physical therapy strategy for dealing with their physical complaints lies in a couple of stretching exercises.

Back to this guy—he’s a super nice guy who works too much. And part of his job is lifting heavy objects from time to time. So we chatted about how his pain behaves and what he has done in the past to control it—that sort of thing. Back to him in a minute.

I get stopped a lot and usually the conversation starts with “I know you must get tired of people asking you about their complaints, but…”

As soon as I can get a word in edgewise, I assure them that I don’t mind at all. I’m flattered that anyone wants my opinion at all (except maybe about religion and politics—two things I avoid discussing) but especially about their health.

My wife long ago figured out that this was part of makes me me. I’m still doing this stuff well into my senior years (I’ve been a physical therapist for 46 years now) because I love it. And most of that is helping people. It’s also part of what makes a physical therapist a physical therapist.

Anyway, it is rarely about stretching. Sure, tight joints and muscles can be a part of the problem but that is rarely the basis of the problem. For this fellow, his biggest problem is his core strength. That’s just not something many people pay much attention to.

What happens is that our life gets in the way of regular exercise and then we help our neighbor move or stack firewood or something else that we don’t do regularly and the next thing you know--BAM!--back pain.

My first aid formula for most injuries is the same. Ice and ibuprofen. Most of the time, it pays to keep moving. Curled up in a hot tub or bedrest and doing nothing is rarely a good idea.

To know what to do next, the best thing is to consult a spinal care expert, like a physical therapist. But that option is not always available. The best advice that I can give if that’s the case is to keep moving.

To prevent it from happening, you’ve got to develop good core strength and learn good body mechanics. Plank. Bird dog. Cat and Cow. Have someone that knows what they’re doing to watch your lifting techniques.

Lift weights. Stay in shape. Lose weight if you need to. Take the stairs. Park at the outer edge of the parking lot.

Above all else, keep moving.

ALS

 

ALS, or Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, is also known as Lou Gherig’s Disease. ALS is not really a disease, but a progressive degenerative disorder of the nerves in the brain and spinal cord.

Lou Gherig was known as the Iron Horse of baseball, having played in 2,130 consecutive baseball games. When he was diagnosed in 1939, little was known about ALS.

On July 4^th, 1939, Gherig gave a speech that is one of the most memorable sports speeches in the history of sports. Knowing that he was going to die (he lived two more years) and knowing the horrors of ALS, he stood at home plate in Yankee Stadium and uttered the following words:

“For the past two weeks, you have been reading about a bad break. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”

For a small percentage (maybe 10%), it can be a genetic mutation. For those, it is known as Familial ALS. But for 90% of those that get ALS, there is no known reason. It hits men slightly more than women and onset falls into the range of 40-70 years of age.

ALS often starts in the hands and feet, with tingling and burning progressing to include weakness in the arms and legs. As it progresses, it encompasses any and all muscles, including the muscles used for swallowing, talking, and breathing. Cognitive functioning remains intact in most cases, which means that the person is fully aware of what is happening to their body.

ALS is not considered a sports injury, but there does appear to be a higher incidence of ALS in military veterans and athletes, particularly football players.

There is no cure for it. It is a devastating disorder, slowly robbing the person of all control.

No one knows why it affects one group more than others, but there are some similarities in combat veterans and football players. It has been speculated that repeated trauma might make a person more likely to get ALS, but we really have no idea about that. Life expectancy is 2-5 years and ALS progresses at different rates for different people.

In other words, we just don’t know much about it. But research is ongoing and hopefully a cure will be found one day. It’s an ugly, nasty disorder that slowly robs the person of their body.

Last week, I mentioned the best football player I ever played with. A gifted athlete at whatever he did, he was especially good at football. He was most definitely a “natural,” but he coupled that with a strong work ethic to become the best of the best.

On offense, give him the football and watch him go. On defense, he was one of those players that was always around the ball. We used to say people like that “have a nose for the football.” He definitely had that.

Maryville native and football coaching legend Ollie Keller recruited him to play at Memphis State but circumstances prevented that from happening. I have no doubt that he would have been a college star and maybe a career NFL player. He was really that good.

His name is J.L. Millsaps and he had ALS. He died this weekend.  In his last days, he could hardly move his once strong body. He spoke only in a whisper and was rarely able to even open his eyes. He knew the end was near, yet, his spirit and his faith remained rock solid. RIP JL.

 

Living Vicariously

 

Everybody wants their kid to be the star of the team. Everybody wants to be on the winning team. It’s just human nature. Everybody, meaning parents.

Interestingly, kids don’t think the same way. Oh, if you ask them what they want to do when they grow up, a fair number of them will say that they want to be a professional athlete in one sport or more.

But if you really dig into it, you will find that they just want to have fun and be with their friends. No doubt, winning is important to them but boiled down to its essence, they want to enjoy their sports.

You have no doubt heard about parents living “vicariously” through their kids. The earth may shake and the dead may roll over, but I’m here to tell you that isn’t always a bad thing.

I have seen a lot of parents who either were never athletes themselves or never had the opportunity to be an athlete. I remember one local athlete that was phenomenal, but when you look at her parents, you wonder how that could have happened.

Neither of them had an athletic bone in their body. But their daughter sure did.  Sometimes those things happen. I’m sure those parents enjoyed their daughter’s success.

Then there are the folks that didn’t have the opportunity. A lot of that is economic. Some kids have to hold down jobs to help the family. My dad dropped out of school after the 6^th grade when his own father died. He went to work in a hosiery mill and never went back to school.

Think about that. He was 11, maybe 12 years old, and already working in a factory alongside adults. His family needed that to survive. Child labor laws would prohibit that from happening these days, but you won’t have to go far to find a family that depends on the income from their 16 year old’s job.

I remember one young very promising athlete. He played three sports until he turned 16. Then he got a job and never played sports again. He had an old truck but his family couldn’t afford the insurance on it so he got a fast food job so he could drive and help transport his siblings.

It was sad really. Unfortunately, if you look at the high cost of participating in some sports, you will see that it can be cost prohibitive. If you want to be competitive, it seems like you need to take private lessons, work with a personal trainer, travel all around the country, and dedicate pretty much all of your spare time to it.

Golf and tennis come to mind immediately. Volleyball and basketball aren’t far behind. It is just more than some families can afford.

There are exceptions. In football, pretty much all of the equipment is provided. And in running, for the most part you just go run.

I will still insist that there is a place for just going out and playing, without all the “extra” stuff.  Some of the best basketball players I ever knew just played. You could always find them on a court somewhere. They were always in the gym shooting. Before school. After school. In their driveway.

The best football player that I ever played with didn’t play until high school, rarely lifted weights, wouldn’t know a personal trainer if one was standing in front of him, and didn’t need much in the way of coaching. He was a linebacker and all you had to do was tell him to go tackle the one with the ball.

I have to believe that if you are talented and work hard, good things will happen. Back when I played a little softball, the best player that I knew could throw a wicked curve with a softball. No one ever taught him how to throw a curve.

So, if you can’t do all those extracurricular things, don’t give up. Work hard and follow your dreams. And if those dreams are your parents’ dreams as well, so be it. Let them enjoy what you do. Let them live a bit through what you do. It’s OK.

Garbage in, garbage out: Sports Performance!

 

You’ve probably heard the nutritional advice “garbage in, garbage out.” If you’re really interested in athletic performance, you will pay attention to that.

For that matter, if you’re really interested in good health, you will heed that advice. But, you might ask, “what is garbage” when it comes to what you eat?

It’s easy to jump on the fast food companies in this category but with a little effort, you can eat decent at fast food places. Look for those places that have grilled offerings. You do have to pay attention to the sodium content in a lot of fast foods but there are possibilities out there.

A lot of places provide customers with a list of ingredients and nutritional value on their menu. Several years ago, an attempt was made to require that, but somehow that set of information was squashed.

The hidden salt and sugar in a lot of restaurant items and condiments is absurdly high. And that’s coming from a condiment guy. I love my condiments. I share a genuine love of ketchup with one of my grandsons. He wants it on everything.

Salt, sugar, and flour. If what you’re eating is high in any of those three, you probably qualify for the “garbage in” category. Don’t get me wrong, it’s impossible to avoid all three and I don’t. Moderation is the most we can ask for, most of the time.

I do believe that food is there to enjoy. Big Ed’s pizza. Zaxby’s chicken strips. What my wife cooked for Thanksgiving. A burger from Smalltown BBQ. I do have my weaknesses. Anything from the Italian Apron.

But for the most part, I eat smart. Vegetables. Fruits. Lean meats. I go to the grocery store and look for items with only one name. Asparagus. Carrots. Chicken. Bananas. Bacon (OK, I guess that last one was wishful thinking).

Athletes too often neglect the nutritional aspect of training. On one stint working at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs, I was amazed at the volume of food many of the athletes consumed. Mass quantities of mostly healthy food to replace the incredible amount of calories they were burning off in training.

Most athletes aren’t working that hard. Most tend to respond to hunger by eating anything that won’t move. What they’re missing is that what they eat is the fuel for their performance.

Athletes need a balance of protein, complex carbohydrates, and fat. We ignored the fat part for a long time, thinking that all fats were bad. Fats are essential but they have to be good fats. That means avocados, not French fries. 

No one diet is the best for every athlete. You either have to be open to learning on your own (which takes a lot of trial and error) or seek the advice of a nutritionist. What we do know is that the right food can help you compete and to train (we often forget that part).

A pre-game meal used to be whatever you had available. Now, a lot of teams have organized pre-game meals so that their athletes get lean meats, vegetables, and some carbs. Eating a light snack right up to game time works for a lot of people. You can’t run on an empty tank.

Food at halftime used to be taboo. We now know that it is important. Eating a high glycogen meal soon after competing or a hard training session is also important to give you the energy to go again the following day.

You have to find what works for you but it’s safe to say that the burger and fries is not your best option.

You Might Be 70...

 

As I’ve said before, I get ideas for this space from a variety of places.  As my wife pointed out, I got a little too historical last week. She suggested I leave that to Christy Martin, who writes a regular column (and whose writing I look forward to).

A former educator, she is a walking library of Blount County history. I’m not from here but I’ve been here 44 years and definitely have a appreciation for the history of the area.

My point last week was to encourage everyone to get outside and partake! Hike, bike, walk, paddle—whatever. Exercise, history, and culture are available around every corner. There’s a ton of history in tiny Jarvis Park.

This morning, a patient made a comment that has put me off on one of the wildest tangents of my tangent-filled life. Maybe the reason I keep coming up with ideas for this space is that my brain travels wildly.

I blame part of that on growing up with the Encyclopedia Britannica. Those vast volumes were my travel agent, my historical perspective, my window to a world I thought I would never know. I read them with the passion and fervor that I do now with any new John Grisham novel.

A little background, amid all this rambling. I’ve told the story before about how important Boy Scouts were to me. I remember well one Scout leader that had a little knife and could carve the most wonderful of things out of any block of wood.

I was fascinated by it and made many meager attempts at duplicating his work through the years. I was particularly fond of his ball inside a cage and his chain links. It became what I did to occupy times on backpacking and canoeing trips.

I’m not very good at it but I do like to do it and when I told this patient/friend about it, he made the comment “you know, if you’ve taken up whittling, you might be 70!”

Well, uh, yeah. I’m 70 now (although it still doesn’t feel like it). What transpired next was a typical screaming train of thought and now you get to hear all about it. With all due respect to Jeff Foxworthy, here we go

If you take up whittling, you might be 70. Ok, I’ve been whittling my whole life but that new scroll saw is opening a lot of new carving doors.

If you were your family’s remote control when you were a kid, you might be 70. And there weren’t but three channels and ABC was on channel 26 and didn’t come in very well.

If you remember using the card catalog at the library, you might be 70. These days, we just jump on the computer and libraries have become so much more than just a repository for books.

If you ever visited the airport to watch planes take off, you might be 70. We did that. Old McGhee-Tyson Airport. It was fascinating. And now I’ve flown in one enough that it’s almost like riding in a bus.

If you remember who Mr. Green Jeans was, you might be 70. And Howdy Doody. And Dudley Do-Right. Spanky and Our Gang. The Three Stooges.

If you can’t really remember the last time you literally “hopped” out of bed in the morning, you might be 70. Now you stop, stretch, make sure you have feeling in your feet, then slowly pull yourself up.

If you’ve ever bragged about your lawn mower, you might be 70. OK. Guilty. And for the record, it’s a Scag that feels like it is fast enough to compete on the NASCAR circuit.

The Meigs Line

 

I love our Smoky Mountains. Always have. I’m sure it started with my parents, who made regular trips into the Smokies.  I have early memories of those trips and photos that predate my memories.

When it came time to go through my mom’s stuff, I kept all her photos. In going through those, I found a photo that I hadn’t seen before. It was my much younger parents standing in front of their car with the Newfound Gap monument in the background.

It appears that my parents attended the dedication ceremony opening the Great Smoky Mountain National Park in 1940. They never told me that. My dad was about to head to World War II so I guess it faded into a distant memory.

I have a photo of myself when I was probably about three.  I’m standing in snow up to my waist, somewhere in the Smokies. I remember my dad would put chains on the tires of his vehicle and go anywhere.

Boys Scouts just perpetuated my love for these mountains. And when it came time to pick the place to live the rest of my life, there wasn’t but one choice. Along the way, I built a house on a high ridge out in the county with a spectacular view of my beloved mountains.

I’ve always had an interest in the history of the area.  I remember when Durwood Dunn’s book, “Cades Cove-The Life and Death of a Southern Appalachian Community 1818-1937” came out. I was fascinated. Later, I found “The Cades Cove Story” by Dr. Randolph Shields, who grove up in the Cove, graduated from Walland High and Maryville College, then later was Biology Professor at Maryville College.

 

A couple of weeks ago, in one of my columns, I mentioned the Oak trees on Big Springs Road that were part of the Hawkins-Pickens Line of 1797. These trees marked the southern boundary of America and the northern boundary of the Cherokee Nation. You may remember that the Hawkins-Pickens Line later became the Meigs Line, which runs from the Southwest Point Fortress near Kingston straight through Blount County to Meigs Mountain in the Smokies and then on into North Carolina.

How cool is that?!? I have since delved deeper into that story, first reading “Meigs Line” by Dwight McCarter and Joe Kelley, then inhaling a series of books about these mountains.

Among the other books I couldn’t put down are Horace Kephart’s “Our Southern Highlands” and Inez Burns’ “History of Blount County.” And I’m only getting started.

My point is this: There is a rich cultural heritage here, literally in our back door. Durwood Dunn pointed out that this wasn’t an area of dumb hillbillies. Indeed, it was filled with intelligent, resourceful people with integrity and ambition.

And we get to explore it. Pretty much anytime we want to. I can leave my office and be in the foothills in 10 minutes and the national park in another 15. Easy.

I don’t take advantage of it as often as I would like to. I love Cades Cove, but I don’t go there. Too many cars. I love Jarvis Park but I’ve only been there a couple of times and it could not be any more convenient. Indian Flats Falls. Messer Barn and the old Smoky Mountain Hiking Club Cabin along the Porter's Creek Trail. The Walker Sisters Cabin.

We are surrounded by so much glory and grandeur that I couldn’t list all the places on my short list in this little space. You just need to go out and check them out for yourself.

You will be healthier, happier, better adjusted, and a better partner. You have problems that are stressing you out? Go for a walk. Need to clear your head? Find a quiet spot by Little River. Life just seeming to be overwhelming? Go to the forest and be absorbed in the sights and sounds.

But here’s my best advice: Go where the people aren’t. You will figure it out.

Blue Jeans & Running Shoes

 

I love my blue jeans. Blue jeans and a t-shirt are my favorites. Alas, you don’t see me in that attire much. It just doesn’t fit with my lifestyle. Or at least not as much as I would hope it would.

At work, my uniform is khakis and a polo. Every day. (Can you say “boring?”) When I finished physical therapy school, the uniform was etched in stone. White jacket. Dark pants. Shirt with tie. To wear anything else was blasphemy.

Along the way, I abandoned the dress shoes for running shoes. Makes sense, if you think about it. Exercise and an active lifestyle are ingrained in physical therapy. Then I shed the tie and white jacket. To me, a more casual look is more compatible with the work we do of encouraging fitness and healthy choices.

When I visit Nashville for legislative purposes, it’s a suit and bow tie (a Tennessee bow tie, no less). Same for our big national physical therapy meetings. People there don’t recognize me without the bow tie.

So, where am I going with this? Have you checked out sports clothing these days? I guess it started with shoes. I believe that the shoe industry was the first to embrace technology.

There is a local fellow who is a retired UT Professor of Exercise Science, Dr. Ed Howley. At one time, Dr. Howley did research for Nike, at a time when their shoes were taking advantage of the science of running and running shoes.

When I was a teen athlete, there was one athletic shoe—canvas Converse All-Stars. You may not know it, but you’ve seen them around. Kids today have discovered those shoes and wear them all the time. They were as basic as you get and we referred to them as “tennis shoes” or “sneakers.”

About the time I was in high school, Adidas came out with running shoe that by today’s standards was pretty crude. Ronnie McNabb and I bought the first pair of those at the old Athletic House on Gay Street in Knoxville.

Along came Reebok’s aerobics shoes and some shoes made specifically for tennis, then the shoe industry seemed to explode. I remember when Michael Jordan’s basketball shoes came out. Everyone wanted them.

Now, there is a shoe for every sport and every subset of sports. For runners, you’ve got shoes for sprinting, hurdling, jumping, distance running, and everything in between. You’ve got different shoes for discus throwing, depending on which technique you use. Tennis shoes are made to be specific to the surface you’re playing on.

Somewhere along the way, hiking boots were these incredibly stiff shoes, built for rigorous trails. Those sometimes took years to break in. Now we have hiking boots based on running shoe technology that can take you most anywhere you want to go and be comfortable the minute you put them on.

When I first started rock climbing, we climbed in whatever was handy. Now there are shoes for whatever type of climbing you are doing. There seem to be shoes for everything. I can remember when, where, and who was wearing the first set of shoes made specifically for heavy weight lifting.

So how are we to know what shoe to wear? Do we need a different shoe for everything that we do?

No, not really. Most of us aren’t going to run a four minute mile so a good, basic running shoe is all we need. Maybe you need a shoe that works better for your foot or running style, but a good shoe store can help you with that. You can use that shoe every day, for every day activities.

You don’t need boots that allow you to climb Mt. Everest. I’ve seen plenty of people climb Mt. LeConte in running shoes which proves only that you just need a good pair of all-purpose hiking boots to hike almost everything around here. And I wear those to work from time to time.

My shoes supposedly made for tennis aren’t that much different than the running shoes I wear to work. You just need to look at what is comfortable and suited to your abilities.  And no prejudice intended, but if your shoe salesperson doesn’t look like they could do the activity you are buying for, maybe go someplace else.

 

Don't be a Jerk

 

Not too long ago, there was a Letter to the Editor of the local newspaper complaining about a bicycle rider on the Greenbelt that frightened a walker (she fell).  Apparently, this rider didn’t stop to check on them either.

Let me say first that I wasn’t there, and I know there are often two sides to every story.  With that being said, the behavior described by the writer was totally unacceptable.

Once, years ago, I wrote that I didn’t think bicycles belonged on the Greenbelt. I was advocating for bike lanes. It was pointed out to me rather quickly that the original grant for the Greenbelt was engineered by the bike riders as a way to bike-commute around our cities. In other words, we have the bicyclists to thank for our Greenbelt.

I’ve had many arguments about bicycles on roads but the fact remains that it is legal in Tennessee to be on most roads. That doesn’t mean that it smart to ride most roads, just that it’s legal. There are certain roads that just aren’t safe for bicycles. Anywhere in town. Montvale Road, Morganton Road, Old Niles Ferry, and others—until you get way out in the county.

There aren’t really many roads with a shoulder adequate for bicycle riders, and even when you find them, they might narrow down quickly to no shoulder at all. And all the glass and debris on the shoulder guarantees a flat.

I don’t know a single road cyclist that has not been threatened or harassed by someone in a motorized vehicle. Lots of folks simply hate everyone on a bicycle, despite the fact that we are spouses and parents and somebody’s child.

So we have a dilemma—the walkers don’t want us on the Greenbelt and the cars don’t want us on the road.

It used to be that you could ride out in the country. South Blount County and Rocky Branch have always been favorites of mine. But now, there is so much development that traffic even in some of our most remote areas is intolerable.

And with increased traffic, you get more harassment. Too many people see a bicycle on the road and embrace their worst behaviors. A group I was with one time got harassed by a man in a truck bearing the markings of a local business. The problem was that we were riding according to the law (no more than two abreast, riding toward the right side of the lane) and this guy had plenty of room to pass.

For whatever reason, he felt compelled to dog-cuss us for being on his (expletive deleted) road. I wanted to tell him that it is likely that I pay far more in taxes to use these roads than he does. I did and I still do.

I’ve always ridden with a group of riders, knowing that there was some safety in numbers. But because of the traffic and trucks and some other issues, I’m not riding much on the roads.

It’s sad, really. I have great memories of riding with a cadre of friends on remote and scenic roads. Road biking in a group is a special event. You are really working together as a team to help each other, draft off of each other, and ride safely.

Oh, I’m still on the bike. A lot. But it’s mostly mountain biking now, which is really a return to my roots. I was a mountain biker before I had my first real mountain bike. Heck, go back far enough and you would find me riding the streets of downtown Memphis while my wife took our only car to work.

But back to that guy that (allegedly, but probably) ran the lady off the Greenbelt. I still insist that the Greenbelt is not the place for serious bikers. We’re just going too fast. But for casual riders, it is a great place to ride and I will fight for their right to do so.

You will even find me on it from time to time. My 10 year old grandson loves to ride it on Sunday afternoon. And if you haven’t been on the segment from Alcoa Elementary School to Clayton, then you have missed out. It is spectacular.

But use common sense and courtesy on the Greenbelt. It is no place to race or even go fast. As you approach walkers, well before you get to them gently call out “on your left,” and slow down as you pass.

And if you do happen to frighten someone, please stop, apologize, and help them. People tend to put all bikers into the same pot so that person might hate me because you were a jerk.

My Little Tree

 

I’ve mentioned the little tree behind the building where I park for work a few times. It was emblematic of all the changing seasons. Budded out in the spring. Green in the summer. Colorful in the fall. Barren in the winter. I’ve used it as a metaphor for life.

 

The bigger Maple trees in the parking lot in front of the building are already magnificent in their red attire. And they’ve not yet reached their peak. I had a quick trip to the mountains last weekend, and I can tell you that the foliage is already showing off its fall colors.

 

Folks around here make a big deal out of the fall display. It’s one of the great things about living around here. I know that the leaf peepers make the Cades Cove Loop Road a bit of a nightmare and you will never find me there this time of the year, but there are sights to see wherever you go.

 

There is one stretch of road on my way home that was always as pretty as I would imagine the northeast must be (according to all the folks that visit there), but the necessity of keeping electric wires cleared has sort of put a damper on that corridor.

 

That’s OK.  Progress, I guess. I know that I don’t want to be without power for very long. A hot shower and fewer worries about losing a freezer full of food are part of the reason I’m a huge fan of the linemen that work at Fort Loudon Utilities.

 

Those people are truly heroes. It just so happens that our worst weather days happen to be when they are needed the most. Bad lightning storm? They’re out there. Roads and wires are iced over? On the job, while we call in forty-eleven times that our power is out.

 

Despite the growth around here, when you fly over, most of what you see is green. That’s because it is. Despite a population approaching 150,000, we are still largely rural, not even counting the third of the county that lies in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (known as “The Park”).

 

I love it. I’ve spoken quite a bit about “Green Therapy,” or the value of getting outside. There is no denying that it is good for our health. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. It’s why we build parks.

 

Also on my way home is the last remaining of the three oaks on Big Springs Road that marked the Hawkins/Pickens Line of 1797 which was to form a boundary between white settlers and the Cherokee Nation. It marked what was then the southern boundary of the United States. Settlers were supposed to respect this border and leave all lands south of the Line to the Cherokees but we know how that worked out.

 

This line was revised in 1802 and then became known as the Meigs Line, running from Meigs Mountain in Blount County to Meigs Post on Mount Collins and into North Carolina.

 

Those three Oaks were planted in 1797 and are directly on the original Hawkins/Pickens Line. Local outdoors rock star Dwight McCarter wrote a book about the Meigs Line in 2009. The second of those Oak trees fell earlier this year after the first one succumbed several years ago.

 

I miss those trees and now there is just one to remind curious minds of a piece of the local history. To me, it is an important remnant of the Cherokee Nation that thrived in these hills and valleys. It helps me to re-imagine what life would have been like for a native tribe that was here long before Columbus.

 

A group that was sophisticated, with a written language and organized social order, living life in the most perfect place on earth.

 

What’s all this got to do with sports. Not much, I imagine. I guess I just want folks to appreciate what we have around here. And get out amongst it. It’ll be good for you.

I Shall Return

 

"Upon the fields of friendly strife are sown the seeds that upon other fields on other days will bear the fruits of victory," said Gen. Douglas MacArthur.

Every cadet at West Point is required to memorize that quote. It is also required of all cadets to participate in some type of competitive athletics. The Academy believes that sports participation aids in leadership development. I happen to agree.

General MacArthur’s intent may have been preparation for military combat, but his words ring true for how sports can impact life. My friend Ken Bell has often said that sports are “life lessons.” That’s very true.

The opportunities for learning life lessons are everywhere in sports.  Look at teamwork. In sports, a team depends on effective teamwork for success. One of the beautiful aspects of sport is watching teamwork in action.

Think of a football play, where all eleven team members are moving in concert, moving parts executing with precision to achieve a common goal. Although it can look like chaos, movement on the soccer pitch is orchestrated to achieve the same objective.

Watch a volleyball match, where every movement is purposeful and coordinated.  I happen to think it is a thing of beauty. But take away that teamwork and execution and it all falls apart.

It doesn’t take much imagination to extrapolate those lessons to life, relationships, jobs, and just getting through a typical day. Learning to work as a team will carry you far. We are always better together. A five stranded rope is stronger than a single cord.

We learn social skills through sports. You have the opportunity to be a gracious winner and a good loser. You have the opportunity to learn how to be a good teammate.

We all want to win every time out but it is often through losing that we discover more about ourselves. We can learn what our shortcomings are. We can learn who we can depend on when things get tough. We can learn how best to work together.

If we’re paying attention, our failures will teach us what we need to work on. I remember working with a nephew one time on his strength training. A two-sport high school athlete, he only wanted to work on what he was good at. I insisted on working on the things that he hated to do.

He always wanted to do bench press and arm curls. He was good at those. But he needed better core strength and explosive power. He didn’t like those, but we did them anyway. I didn’t care how much he could bench but I did care how effectively he moved his body.

I’ve heard people say “we just need to learn how to be winners.” The context is that you need to learn how to win by winning, which might lead to an attitude of win at all costs. I don’t agree with that at all.

We learn how to be winners by learning HOW to win, not in the winning itself. Does that make sense? We learn how to be winners by understanding our strengths and weaknesses, learning how to work as a team, by being the best version of ourselves.

We learn how to be winners by executing, by being coachable, by being fully prepared, by being good teammates. We learn how to be winners by discovering how hard we can push through pain and hard times.  We learn how to be winners by doing the little things, like eating right, getting enough sleep, and by putting in the work.

Winning isn’t everything—striving to win is everything. Doing what you need to do to succeed is everything, whatever the game you’re playing.

 

 

 

Movement: The Magic Pill

 

OK. I’m going to repeat myself today. It’s hard not to, since I’ve been occupying this space for over 39 years now. You would think that after a while, I would run out of ideas. I worry about that too, but then something happens or a thought pops into my head and here we go.

Let me set the stage for you. I get to my clinic early most days. Some days really early. My desk is simply the countertop on the half wall that separates the clinic from the adjoining gym. I am almost exactly in the center of both.

I choose that. It keeps me in the middle of the rehab center but also makes me available to those people working out in the gym. And it is often the source of ideas for my column.

When we built this facility, we purposely made the space wide open. My concept is that when you walk in the front door of the rehab clinic, you first see others working with physical therapists and athletic trainers, working hard to get better to overcome whatever injury, surgery, or disability that brought you there.

And then, if you look just beyond the clinic, you see a full gym, with people working to stay healthy. It’s a rewarding dynamic. There have been lots of folks through the years that are here for the rehab side that have never darkened the doors of a gym.

What we want them to see is that a gym isn’t such a daunting place after all—that there is a place for everyone. I’ve heard the comment many times “so that’s what the inside of a gym looks like!”

I’ll be the first person to tell you that a gym or fitness center isn’t for everybody. Some people just don’t want to exercise in public. I get that. But regardless of where you choose to get your daily exercise, strength training needs to be a part of it.

Let me back up a moment. I’m often asked “what’s the best exercise?” My answer is most often “the exercise you will do.” There is no secret elixir. There is no magic pill. You have to put effort into it. A walk in the woods is exercise. Biking the Greenbelt is exercise. Yoga is exercise.

Movement is exercise and it’s the one thing I see as a physical therapist that is missing in a lot of people. I remember one time that I was visiting with my mom in the transitional care center. Her roommate had just had a knee replacement.

What sticks in my mind is that the roommate did not want to move. She refused the efforts of the physical therapists to get up and walk. She didn’t want to move her leg because it hurt. She was there, in her words, to “rest and recuperate.”

All this nonsense about moving and exercising just wasn’t what she was there for. What happened? She developed a DVT (blood clot in her leg) and ended up back in the hospital. All she needed was movement.

I know that when I had my own knee replacement several years ago, if we had carpet in our house, I would have worn a path on it. I woke up from surgery moving my knee and working the leg muscles.

Movement. Maybe that’s the magic pill.

Back to the strength training thing. I’ve also said many times that it’s more important to lift weights as you get older than when you’re young. Two big reasons: we lose muscle mass as we age (which means we need to work our muscles) and weight training can lessen the impact of osteoporosis and bone loss that happens as we age.

Is it broken?

 

My kids will tell you that one of my biggest pet peeves is the misinterpretation of the terms “broken” and “fractured.” I’ve heard it too many times “it’s a good thing it’s only fractured and not broken.”

Cue the eye roll out of dear old dad. They used to use that one just to bother me. They knew that there was no difference. Broke is fractured and fractured is broke. They are the same thing.

A partial break is still broke. Stress fractures might fall into a bit of a gray area, as there are certainly degrees to those. And there is definitely a difference between a simple fracture and a compound fracture, but both are really different levels of the same thing. A broken bone.

I’ve been told that everyone has a superpower. It has been said, that maybe Xray vision is my superpower. I don’t know. I know I’ve seen my share of broken bones in 40 years as an Athletic Trainer. And I’m right most of the time.

After you see a lot of them, you really know what to look for.  If someone comes off the field hunched forward and clutching their elbow, they probably have broken their collarbone, medically known as the clavicle.

Again, there are simple clavicular breaks and then there are breaks that are in multiple pieces with bone ends going different directions. Either way, it’s broke and the game is over. What happens next depends on the needs of the athlete and the advice of the orthopedic surgeon.

One of my favorite stories is based on the very first game that I was on the sidelines of a Maryville High School football game. Don Story was the coach and at halftime, his star lineman asked me to look at his jaw. It was really hurting.

I looked at it, decided it was broke, and told Coach Story that he shouldn’t play the second half. The player protested, admitting that he had broke it in a fight at school that day and that since he had already played the first half with a broke jaw, he should be able to continue playing.

Coach Story looked at me and asked “should he play?” Now keep in mind, Coach Story had just met me. He hadn’t worked with me. He really didn’t know that much about me. And he sure didn’t have much reason to trust me.

But he did. “Go put your clothes on—you’re out for the second half.” That was just the kind of man Don Story was and still is. One of my greatest compliments was when Coach/AD Jim Campbell told others that I was a “Don Story-kind of guy.”

The bottom line is that I was right. He had actually broken his jaw on both sides and it was absolutely unsafe for him to continue playing.

Athletic Trainers that work with all our schools don’t really have the latitude to be wrong. Yet, you can’t let every little bump and bruise end with a visit to the Emergency Room. You’ve got to know when to pull them out of the game and when to let them play.

It’s part of the basic skillset of the Athletic Trainer, but the good ones can be a little more bold in their decision making. In the heat of the game, you’ve got to make a decision in seconds.  You’ve got to know what to do without the benefit of X-Rays. And you can’t be wrong.

Now before you jump to the conclusion that I’ve never been wrong, or that my Athletic Trainer colleagues are never wrong, let me tell you that I’ve been wrong plenty of times. I allowed a basketball player with a partial ACL tear back in the game one time. And then she tore it the rest of the way through. I told a young athlete once that I didn’t think his foot was broke but it was.

That’s just the nature of the beast.  Every minute of every game, Athletic Trainers have to make decisions that might  impact the long term health of our athletes. We accept that responsibility because it’s what we do. It’s who we are.

Not your Average Joe

Average life expectancy for a male in America is 78 years. If I’m an average American male, that means I’ve got less than 8 years left. I have no reason to think I’m anything but average.

To quote Margaret Mead, “I’m unique, just like everyone else.” We just cannot escape that basic fact. We can’t avoid that at some point, we are reduced to a statistic.

Average. What is average? I don’t think I’m average at all but I also know that I’m not promised even tomorrow. My little bike wreck and collapsed lung thing could have not turned out so well but my own mortality is just not something that I think about.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there are a lot of things that you can do to stay healthy longer. I also know that you can’t ignore your genetics.

Blame for my hypertension has to be placed on my gene pool. Both my parents had high blood pressure. I only knew one of my grandparents but I suspect it was shared along the way.

Goodness knows I’ve tried everything that I know to do. I’ve always eaten well, exercised regularly, kept my weight under control, and followed medical advice anytime it was provided.

Yet, here I am, taking multiple blood pressure medications every day and getting a colonoscopy every time Dr. Kline tells me I need to. And will for the rest of my life. If I knew more to do, I would do it. My cardiologist considers me an enigma—otherwise healthy but still nagged by that one silent culprit.

I have a deep fear of heart problems. My dad had his first heart attack at 45. Even with cardiology science as primitive as it was in his era, he lived to be 84. That was rare then. You can imagine my concern as I passed 45.

So, before you begin to think I’m all self-righteous about the pursuit of health and all this, my approach and my lifestyle choices are all because I’m scared to death about heart attacks and heart disease and all that.

I may be more dedicated than the Average Joe, but when I get up in the morning, it’s easy to make the decision to do the right things that day because of that fear. I don’t want to be the next statistic and I sure don’t want one of those incisions down the middle of my sternum. I want to live long and stay healthy for as long as I can.

What’s a person to do? Well, I guess you could just accept your health as your fate. You could just go on doing whatever you want to do and eating whatever you want—and avoid health care because doctors and medicines are all bad for you.

Or you can do your part. Eat healthier. Do some form of exercise every day. If you smoke, stop. Do whatever it takes. See your doctor.

So many of the bad things that plague senior adults are preventable. Get your weight under control. Go to your gastroenterologist and if they recommend a colonoscopy, get it. Go to your dermatologist and do what they say. As I’ve said many times before, everyone should have a primary care physician coordinating all of your health care and, if you run into them in the grocery store, they know your first name.

Not because you’re a nag, but because you get regular checkups and do what they say.  It’s perpetually amazing that people base medical decisions on what they learned on the internet. The practice of medicine is much more complicated than that.

My personal bottom line is that I want to live as long as I can and be as healthy as I can be for as long as I can. Not to accumulate “things,” but to live life, to take adventures, to enjoy family and friends. For. As. Long. As. I. Can.

Dieting is Hard

 

New data is out. Tennessee is now only the 10^th most obese state in America. West Virginia is #1, with 51.05% of the state’s citizens being classified as obese.  Unfortunately, Tennessee isn’t far behind at 47.50%

Behind West Virginia, in order, you will find Mississippi in second followed by Alabama, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, then South Dakota. Followed by #10 Tennessee. We’ve been closer to the top in the past.

I’m from the South and proud of it. Yet, I have to admit that I’m disappointed with certain aspects of our part of the country. I suppose I should look at it within the context of America as a whole.  The problem isn’t confined to one part of the country. But in too many important factors, we’re way down the list. Smoking. Education.

What we can’t ignore is that obesity is the source of many of the health problems that we encounter in our senior years. Rather than beat ourselves up about it, let’s look at what can be done. It really is a complex problem.

Some will say that it is the tendency for cooks in the South to fry everything. They blame it on southerners trying to make lesser foods tastier. I’ve never seen blackened catfish but I know that I prefer my catfish fried with tarter sauce.

And it’s not necessarily a southern thing. I once dined at a relative’s table well north of the Mason-Dixon Line and literally everything served was fried. Admittedly, they had southern roots, but they had lived in the north a lot longer than they had lived in the south.

It’s hard to ignore portion sizes, all-you-can-eat buffets, and food choices, wherever you live.

No doubt, part of it is lifestyle. In my opinion (and remember that this is all my opinion), it isn’t that we’re just lazy. I don’t think that’s it at all. Most of the people that I know never stop. Long days, packed schedules, and trying to do everything is more the norm than not.

When I’m behind and don’t have time to eat good food, I’ll eat whatever I can grab. More often than not, it is something that isn’t good for me.

It’s especially bad if I push it, allowing my hunger to grow. If I miss a meal or extend my limits, I’ll end up eating anything put in front of me. And probably more than my body needs, as I attempt (physically or mentally) to catch up.

I think that’s true for a lot of folks. Scarfing down a bag of chips and a couple of hot dogs is the easy way sometimes and yes, I do that.

The solution for me is to brown bag my lunch. I eat almost the same thing every day at work. But that takes some preparation and sometimes I forget or don’t have time to prepare adequately. It only works if you work at it. It does take some effort.

Snacks are also important. And not candy bars or cookies. Foods that are more complex, lower in sugar, and have some kind of healthier ingredients. My personal favorite is nuts.

Eating late at night is also a huge problem. Sometimes I eat way too early, as the evening schedule is so full that I know I won’t get any time to eat. Then, when I finally get home, I’m starved. I have to fight the urge to eat anything and everything in the fridge.

It takes willpower to eat a reasonable amount if you’re eating closer to bedtime but it’s hugely important. I’m not much of an advocate for counting calories but at bedtime, it helps.

And just so you know that I haven’t forgotten who I am, yes, exercise is essential. You need to do something every day that gets your heart rate up.

So you want to be a leader?

 I've got a simple message today.

If you want to be a leader, you need to do the following:

Outwork everybody. Everybody.

Understand that no task is beneath you. And actually do any task that needs to be done. If you see trash in the parking lot, pick it up. If there is a mess, clean it up.

As you grow in your leadership, your relationships will change. If you aren’t ready to deal with that, you aren’t ready for leadership.

Coach Koontz

If you happen to be at the Maryville High School football game this Friday, you might drop by and congratulate Adam Koontz.  It will be his 300^th straight game.  It’s somehow fitting that it is also Homecoming.

 His attendance record is surely one for the books. Rain or shine, snow or sleet, it doesn’t matter, Adam will be there. 300 straight games. He’s seen it all. He’s seen the tough losses and the glorious wins.

He’s been there through blistering hot August games and seasons that often last into December. There isn’t likely a bigger fan of Maryville Rebels football.  There certainly isn’t one more dedicated. He. Never. Misses.

 Adam is currently 38 years old and is a graduate of both Maryville High School and Maryville College (class of 2008). He started attending MHS football games at the beginning of the 2000 season and had a 59 game streak going until 2003, when he had to miss a game because of freshman orientation at Maryville College.

 Since then, he hasn’t missed a game. Not one. Not when temperatures plummeted and the stadium was ice covered. Not even in driving rain when lots of fans stayed home. Away games? Doesn’t matter. Adam makes the trip.

 Maybe he doesn’t feel great? He shows up. Toughen up Buttercup. Adam will be there. No excuses.

 Adam works part-time at the Senior Center for the Parks & Recreation department.  He is also in his 8^th year as an Assistant Coach with the Maryville Southerners pee-wee team. He bleeds red and black.

 For most of his 300 game streak, I was on the sidelines for Maryville High School football, serving as their athletic trainer. Long ago, he and I developed a ritual that lasted until my last game in 2020.

 Before the game, I had a busy schedule. Tape ankles. Check injuries. Update the coaches on player status. Check supplies. Often greet the visiting team. Set up the sidelines. Make sure everyone knew what they were supposed to do.

 Sometime after the team took the field for warmups, I would head for the sideline, but before I got there, I would find Adam (Coach Koontz to the Southerners), who always wanted an injury update. For home games, he was always in the same place. For away games, he was easy to spot.

 After filling him in on the latest injuries, I would listen as he gave his assessment of the game and what it would take to win. We would end the conversation with a fist bump and Adam’s last minute advice for Coach Quarles or Coach Hunt.

 I always found Adam to be knowledgeable about the game and what it might take to win. His pregame summary was often spot-on.

 It was a special time for me. I miss it. Those moments will remain with me for the rest of my life. They’re just one of those little things that made Friday nights special.

If you don’t know Adam Koontz, you’ve missed out. You may not have met him, but you’ve seen him. He’s the guy in the wheelchair down on the right in front of the stands. He gets there early to take his spot. And if you want a game analysis, he’ll be glad to share.