In the mid 1980’s, I shared an apartment in San Francisco with an aging hippie named Nelson. One day, Nelson asked if I would give his friend Robert a ride to to the airport. Robert’s main activity at the time was growing pot in Marin County. He was also a dreamer, mystic, and philosopher. For the duration of our ride, he enlightened me on the existence of the gyro of the universe.
The universe, Robert explained, is powered by a massive gyro. When it is spinning in your favor, you have momentum on your side. But sometimes it spins against you. When it does, bad things start happening. It is tempting to try and fight it but you need to understand that it is out of your control. The gyro generates immutable force. You have to wait until the gyro switches back to spinning in your favor.
I dropped Robert at the airport and never saw him again, but our conversation stuck with me. Over the years, largely jokingly, I have educated friends and family on the power of the gyro. I have also used it as a helpful reminder when things don’t break my way. Years of experience have taught me that Robert knew what he was talking about.
Earlier this week, I woke up in a wistfully bad mood for no good reason. My mood didn’t improve when, over morning coffee, I read an interview with a Canadian expert predicting that – with rising Covid counts in the U.S.- the border with the U.S. may remain closed for another year. If that happens, my goal to compete in the 2021 World Masters Cross County Ski Championships in Alberta will go “poof”, just like my plans to climb Everest this spring did. I continue to hope that Everest is open to U.S. climbers next spring. We’ll see.
I wanted to be on my own for a few hours, so I headed out to our boat with the idea of sailing across the bay. After carefully going through my checklist to assure I was ready to depart solo, I cranked the engine. Silence. I cranked it again. More silence. The starter battery for the new engine had inexplicably drained. There would be no sailing.
I decided to channel my frustration into a long roller ski workout. For those of you unfamiliar with roller skis, they are a way that cross country skiers train in the off season. Here is a photo of my skis so you can see what they look like, and also a photo of friend “Uncle Bob” and me after a roller ski workout this spring, (on a day when the gyro was spinning my way).
Roller skis 
Spring workout
I filled a belt pack with Powerade, as I would be working hard for several hours, clipped into the skis, and rolled off. A couple of kilometers in, the physical exertion, steady rhythm, and beautiful ocean-side fields began to improve my mood. I looked forward to the kilometers and hours ahead. As I climbed a gradual hill, I swerved right to avoid a truck parked on the side of the road. At exactly that moment, a car approached from the rear and I moved further right. What I failed to see was a small rock on the side of the road, which jammed in my roller ski, launching me head first onto the pavement.
Everything went into slow motion in mid air, as it often does in these situations. I expected to lose some skin and blood, was rooting for no broken bones, and was pleasantly surprised when skin and blood loss turned out to be minimal. What I wasn’t prepared for was the searing pain in my left hamstring after I hit the ground, caused by the injury which now has me grounded. I dragged myself home, swearing loudly as slight body movements kept causing my leg to convulse.
In the scheme of things, my injury is minor. The doctors have confirmed that the hamstring is strained, not torn. With rest, ice, physical therapy, and patience, I should be back in action within a month. But at the moment, I can do essentially no training. Same for so many of the other things I like to do; like walking, swimming, golf, tennis, and active sailing. And this is impacting my mood. A small injury is dragging me down to a surprising extent, and also foreshadowing some challenges I may have to deal with down life’s road.
I like to think of myself as the kind of person who will be stoic and upbeat in the face of health challenges, but this experience suggests the contrary. Ever since pulling myself up from the pavement, I have been grouchy and frustrated; focused way more on my own situation than on others. Also, using ski racing and climbing as a means to provide broader life structure and meaning is revealing its limitations. Building a life around outdoor sports is great, as long as you are capable of doing those sports. What will I turn to as my body weakens in the decades to come? I like the plan for my 60’s, but what about my 80’s and 90’s?
For now, I hobble around the house, ice my leg, read books, gaze out the window, and look forward to meals as a highlight of my day. It reminds me of the nursing home kind of existence I hope never to have to experience. I know how minor this setback is, especially compared to what so many people face, and I am a bit embarrassed by how I am reacting to it. On the positive side, my gap year was designed for introspection and learning, and this is prompting exactly that.
No use fighting the gyro. It will soon be spinning my way again.