I betrayed my love, and now I’m left to suffer.

The plastic ball full of whiffle holes bounced lightly in front of me. It wouldn’t hop more than a foot in the air, and I was a solid eight feet away. Yet decades of muscle memory from tennis and basketball kicked in, and I lurched to see if I could reach it.

Bad Idea.

Instead of propelling me forward, my left leg felt as if it were breaking in two. The loud pop accentuated the sensation. By the time I hit the ground, I knew instinctively what had happened. And I was right. So long to my Achilles tendon.

If only I could take it back, I’d never forsake my bike again.

In that instant, with that single pickleball lurch, I put myself in a place I really hate – on the sidelines. If my leg worked, I’d kick myself in the ass.

Following a spinal injury resulting from a biopsy that showed I had a lesion on my spinal cord, I gave up on any sport that required quick movements. That was in December of 2016. (Check out Cycling with Sarcoidosis)

Fast forward almost a decade, and my resistance to the pickleball craze was weakening. When a friend offered to give my wife and me lessons, I thought, “What could it hurt?” Thus, 30 minutes into my first dance with ball and paddle, I found myself rolling on the court in agony.

Shortly after they carried me to the car, it dawned on me that I would not be riding my bike anytime soon. That realization hurt almost as much as the throbbing just above my ankle.

Even worse than the injury was the real damage to my life

I didn’t know a lot about Achilles injuries (then), but I had heard that it was about a six-month recovery. And faster than you can say ‘Tour de France,’ it dawned on me that it could be May before I was riding my bike again. Yeah, it’s a first-world problem. For me, it was a world-class crisis.

Oh, sure, there would be some missed work. FMLA paperwork loomed ahead. And the holidays were fast approaching. But also in my mind was the Bike Ride Across Virginia (aka BRAVA) that I had signed up to do in June 2026. Would I be able to bike by then? Would I be trained enough to handle the ten consecutive days of riding, much of it over the mountains in the western third of the state and rolling piedmont for another third? Here in January 2026, the answers are still not clear.

What is clear is that pickleball, seemingly the sport of the baby boomer generation, is not the gentle version of outdoor ping pong one might think. Every other person I meet nods knowingly at my leg and says, “Pickleball is dangerous.” One major hospital group went so far as to call it an epidemic when it comes to Achilles tendon injuries.

Bicycling and mental health

While the future of that big summer ride remains in flux, there is a more immediate manifestation of being unable to ride. I always felt the bike helped me melt anxiety. Further, the stimulation and release of all those positive brain chemicals often made me feel anything was possible, which often propelled me headlong into everything from new endeavors at work to home improvement projects.

Add new anxiety caused by the impending surgery, crutches, a cast, and sleeping in a walking boot with flopping velcro scraping against my leg, along with the stress of the Christmas season, and I was a proper mess.

If nothing else, all of this confirmed that regular bike rides — even if they were indoor workouts were the Windex to the dirty windows that had become my angst. And with my foot in a cast, the blue bottle of cleaner was bone dry.

And then there’s this stupid cycling streak

A friend of mine has this unbelievable cycling streak where he has ridden every day for more than ten years. When it snowed. When it rained. And twice when he had Covid. He always finds a way. I can’t fathom what he does. But I know it’s important to him.

I had my own little streak. Just my little motivational quirk that often makes me ride when I don’t especially feel like it. I have ridden at least 100 miles every month since 2013. And thanks to the lurch for that plastic pickleball, I would not have the chance to do so in December of 2025. Streak over.

The long road back

As I write this in early January 2026, I am a day away from putting my full weight on my injured leg, and only then in the aforementioned boot, complete with a two-inch lift on the heel. The cast is gone. The stitches are out. The pain is mostly gone. The doctor permitted me to use the Peloton bike as long as the resistance is light, and I keep the boot on. So, I’ve done a few workouts using the machine’s experience feature, which allows me to take in the French Alps and gravel roads in Iceland while clipped in on one side, and clunking along with a boot up to my knee on the other pedal.

I’ve done three workouts in January, keeping my eye on that ride across Virginia in June.

And if I keep at it, I might just get 100 miles this month. Here’s to another streak.

Follow me on Strava: https://www.strava.com/athletes/10853338