Back in the Saddle Again

Five and a half months after my accident, I ride once more.

The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste

Once, when I was a teenager, I went on an archaeological trip to Mexico. I was never a swimmer. I took lessons, but I never quite learned how to swim. On this trip, I decided I was going to swim. I swam in every pool we ran across until I felt comfortable.

The very last day, we stopped at this underground lake that had been a holy place for the indigenous people. It was basically a flooded cave. I swam across to the other side and grabbed a stalactite. I started to swim back... and halfway across, out of nowhere, I started to get tired. Instead of just dealing with it as I would any other physical activity, suddenly my mind filled with the idea that there were many skeletons at the bottom of this ancient Mexican underground lake, and I would join them. I lost my shit and flailed around, convinced I would die. And when you're convinced of something, it's hard not to make it true.

Luckily, I was swimming with a friend, and he slugged me and dragged me to shore, and thus I am still alive. (There was another "friend" there, but he stood on the shore and laughed while this happened, but he was a douchebag anyway, so fuck that guy).

The point being...

On Nov. 13, I dumped my bike on my leg. When I stood up, my right ankle was bent at an unnatural angle. It was blown out. I could put zero weight on it.

Since then, by two week increments, my recovery has progressed: from boot and crutches with no weight on my ankle, to boot and crutches with weight on my ankle, to boot and cane, to boot and no cane, to Ace wrap and cane, to Ace wrap and no cane... at least around the lair.

I went to Arizona to visit my family. When I came back, I felt strong. I ran out of water for the coffee maker. This would not do. The nearest grocery store was about a mile away. I decided to walk there, with nothing but an Ace and boots -- no cane -- and see how it would go. Mind you, this is MONTHS after my accident.

I got there, no problem. Wandered around the store, finding my stuff? No problem. But on the way back...?

About halfway to my lair, I started to feel lightheaded. Not like I was going to pass out or anything, as I wasn't in any pain. But my ankle felt so weird and loose, it started to trigger a mental response. I felt the exact same way I did halfway back to shore across that underground lake in Mexico, like I was suddenly without a net, the worst could happen, and the worst would likely happen. Life yawned as an abyss underneath me. I was convinced my ankle was going to blow out, and I'd have to crawl back for blocks before I could call help. I know, it makes no sense, but that's how the mind worked.

I came to a bus stop. I sat on the bench for fifteen minutes, answering email on my iPhone. After a while of doing mundane tasks, I got my head back together, and simply walked the rest of the way without incident.

Yesterday, I did as little as possible. I wanted to recover, in all ways possible.

But I refuse to live in response to fear. Caution? Sure. Fear, no.

First thing, I got my ass out of bed and determined to walk to downtown Hollywood, maybe two or three miles. I took my cane, but I never used it. I walked the whole way there carrying an unused can in my hand. I got to Sunset and La Cienega, stopped at a coffee place and answered email. Then I walked back. Same thing -- cane in hand, but never touching the ground.

No problems. No flip-outs.

I think sometimes the mind needs a placebo, just something to let it know that an option is there, even if it's not needed, or even wanted. My cane sits next to me right now, a totem of potential, but unused. It's strange, but... whatever gets me walking, then running, then push-starting my motorcycle... Well, who cares how it happens, so long as it does?

The Joys of Upright Mobility

Today is Valentine's Day. While many others celebrate their love for one another, I am celebrating my love of the fact that I can walk again.

I was in a splint, and either on crutches or a cane, for exactly ninety days after I dumped my motorcycle. Today, instead of the splint, I put on a firm Ace brace. For the first time since this mishap, I pulled on both motorcycle boots. I grabbed the cane just for good measure.

I stood from a chair and took a step. One of two things would happen: I'd either collapse to the floor, or I'd keep walking.

I walked.

I'm being very careful. I have yet to test the boundaries of this amazing, newfound ability. I walked to the end of a hall and back (using the cane), and now my ankle's letting me know it wasn't really crazy about that. So I have to take it slow.

But all things worth doing involve a building process, whether a career, a company, a relationship... or just recovering from an accident. Every day another brick goes in, until one day the house and done and we get to move in to situations of our own creation. In my case, it's building Samurai MK and working toward the day I can remount my motorcycle.

Ready to Rock

I am at long last back in LA. Since this was the first holiday season since my dad passed away, I wanted to stick around in AZ from Christmas through New Years. Though it was good to reconnect with friends and family, and an amazing opportunity to recharge, I'm a restless dude, and I'm glad to be back in the fray.

I have also able to relax and accelerate the healing process. Thus, I traded the crutches in for a cane. I was even able to hop through airport security, and avoid going through the fun pat-down process. I've been repeatedly warned about trying to rush things, but I'd be lying if I said I don't long to get back on the Rebel. Sitting around just ain't my style.

And for 2011: I'm not a millionaire yet, unfortunately. But Samurai has gotten enough forward motion under projects -- and had enough near-misses -- that I know I'm on the right track. The goal is to be standing on a set by the end of the year.

So once again I say... Let's rock.

PIPLOWSKI on the Hit List!

I know this happened last week, but I realized I'd posted about it on facebook but not here... Samurai MK Alex Drummond's action/comedy script YOU'RE DEAD MEAT, PIPLOWSKI made it to #9 on the 2010 Hit List.

It bears mentioning that PIPLOWSKI was the first script I took wide under Samurai, working for my own company. We got a lot of attention on the project, so I'm not surprised to find people still talking about it months later. I deeply believe in this project; I know it's a movie.

Now let's rock 2011...

Stir Crazy

I am a restless dude by nature. That doesn't mean I'm always moving around or anything. But, unless I'm writing, sleeping or watching a movie, I am almost never home. Work and meetings keep me out of the lair most of the time. Even if I'm just reading scripts or working on notes, though, I'll typically hit a coffee shop. Over the past year, my daily migrations have become defined by wi-fi connections. Since I live in Los Angeles, they are plentiful.

I once had a conversation with a friend in which he described how awesome it would be to have a big house in the middle of nowhere, with a great kitchen, and a kick-ass rec room with a giant TV and shit. I told him all of that sounded cool, but I'd much rather have a smaller place that's within walking distance of restaurants and theaters. I need to get out, do new stuff, and not sit around staring at the same walls.

This accident I was in gave me a severe ankle sprain, though. I can't ride. Shit, I can't walk without crutches. I'm getting better; the recovery is continuing apace. Everything I have heard and read, though, warns against getting impatient and rushing to get off the crutches. The only true cure for a sprain is rest and time. If you deny yourself either, you'll just fuck it right back up, ironically lengthening the recovery time. Since I want to get back into action as soon as possible, I'm heeding these warnings.

That said, I have been forced for the first time in a very, very long time to stick close to home. Luckily, I have my own business, and the work of that business is primarily done with a laptop, an internet connection and the phone. Thus: not only is my work unaffected, I'm actually getting even more done than usual. The inability to wander around LA has increased my personal productivity on all fronts.

Which is all well and good, but it's a situation that is antithetical to my nature.

By week three, I was REALLY going nuts. This past week, however, I feel as if I've turned the corner in terms of the mental game. Every day, I read HAGAKURE, and I have been focusing on that samurai discipline to help get my mind off what I don't have -- the ability to go out -- and acclimate to what I do have, which is a golden opportunity to get shit done without distraction.

Sure, I miss the gym. But I'm doing so many push-ups that I'm getting a definition I didn't have before. No, I can't write at hipster coffee houses, but in the past thirty days, I've finished a polish draft of one script, done a page-one rewrite on a second and gotten close to wrapping the first draft of a third... All while hustling and developing Samurai MK projects all day.

My point is: sometimes life throws you into a situation that seems like a pain in the ass. But if you stop crying about it and just adjust to the new normal, you'll likely find benefits you would never have otherwise noticed. Not to say I have no longer have any interest in my motorcycle, my gym and coffee shops, but if it takes another month before I'm walking again, I'll be okay.

Michael Michael, Motorcycle...

The short version: I got into a motorcycle accident.

The slightly longer version: Two weeks ago, I hung out with a friend of mine in Culver City. I parked in the garage next to Trader Joe's. When it was time to leave, I got on the motorcycle and started down the levels. Normal stuff.

On maybe the third level, I took the corner about ten percent too tight, and ten percent too fast. The bike angled a bit. I stuck out my foot to correct myself. This isn't a big deal, especially at low speeds. But this time, my boot folded out from under me, and the bike went down.

I stood up and quickly realized that my right foot was sticking out at a ninety-degree angle from my body. I hopped over to the wall and kicked it back into place. Balancing on one leg, I brought the bike back up. I still thought I could ride it out of there; the right foot controls the rear brakes, which are nice to have, but only control about thirty percent of your total stopping power. While nice to have, they aren't absolutely necessary. 

I was able to ride down to the first floor. As I slowed, by instinct, I touched the floor with my right foot. It flopped around, completely unmoored from my leg. Uh-oh.

I stopped and called my friend. Luckily, he was able to come back and help me out.

It's a bad sprain. There is no pain, and not that much swelling. I can move everything. But it's going to take a while before I can stand on it, much less walk. Meanwhile, I'm in a boot/splint thing and jumping around on crutches. 

This certainly won't keep me from riding -- I love it too much to ever stop. But I also realize in many ways I was very lucky. I didn't break my leg. I didn't wreck my bike. And I'm glad I had my first real accident since starting to ride with a light bike like my Honda Rebel, as opposed to a big Harley or something. I only have to get bitten by the dog once. That's not to say I was getting cocky and hot-dogging around on it, but when I climb back into the saddle it will be with even greater caution, and respect for the inherent risks. 

Meanwhile, thanks to my lack of mobility, I'm getting that much more work and writing done. Silver linings and all of that...