Crutches forward, left leg, right leg. Crutches forward, left leg, right leg. I’ve finally become a long-distance hiker again. 285 shuffling steps and I’m at the window on the other side of the orthopedic ward H at the Bory Hospital. A slow turn at the ramp and stairs, and another 285 steps back to the opposite window. Jozef is shuffling from the opposite direction. We smile and nod—we’ve become a training duo. How did all of this start?
Table of contents
My Journey to Hip Replacement
Almost twenty years ago, during a cycling camp, about six of us were riding from Makarska through Brela around Buško Jezero. It was April, nothing too brutal, just about 1,800 vertical meters and 164 km. I was pulling the pack at the front up the climb for over a kilometer. Riding a heavy 53/15 gear, I secretly enjoyed seeing the miserable looks behind me when I deliberately refused to shift down to the small chainring.
Suddenly, a biker pulled up next to me and said: “Listen, I’m an orthoped. If you keep pushing such heavy gears up these climbs with that misaligned leg of yours, you’re going to completely destroy your hip joint.”
Listen to advice from experienced people and make sure you use the right technique
First lesson
I just smiled and accelerated. I was used to my riding buddies lecturing me about sensible climbing, responsibility for my health, or the usual: “You’re a total lunatic.”
The Road of an Outdoor Addict
Crutches forward, left leg, right leg. Crutches forward, left leg, right leg. Coffee or cocoa? On one side of the ward, there is a vending machine with cocoa and tea; on the other, a coffee machine.
Nurses are currently handing over the evening shift. Discussing room by room. Room 3 is complaining about pain, the guy in Room 5 was quite aggressive, Room 8 needs a fresh dressing and leaves tomorrow. They crucified me on the operating table just this morning, but I managed to get a good sleep.
Cycling nirvana
Years passed after that ride around Buško Jezero. By then, I had already conquered Stelvio three times, Mortirolo, Gavia, the gateway to hell Zoncolan, as well as the Savoy Alps—Izoard, Galibier, Kitzbüheler Horn, the highest paved road in Europe Col de la Bonette, the iconic Tour de France monument Alpe d’Huez (where we once ran into Peter Sagan), and Mont Cenis, the famous Alpine crossing. I used to tackle these with my friend Igor, who is no longer with us. He crashed hard on a descent, and after a few weeks in a coma, we had to say our final goodbyes.
The official story of my orthopedic career should probably start with a dramatic, high-speed crash on an Alpine descent. But the reality was far more embarrassing. After three beers, I hopped on a small folding bike. Showing off, I steered with one hand while holding my phone with the other. My front wheel slipped right into a tram track, jammed instantly, and the next thing I remember was the overwhelming feeling that my leg had been severed at the ankle. Endorphins, adrenaline, hormones—the human body has plenty of ways to trick you when disaster strikes.
Serious injuries often do not occur in dangerous situations, but suddenly, out of the blue.
Second. lesson
It wasn’t quite that bad, but bad enough: a broken tibia, a torn Achilles tendon, and a completely dislocated left instep. My ankle quickly swelled to the size of a large cabbage. After months in a cast and grueling rehabilitation in a thermal pool, I literally had to relearn how to walk.
Recognizing the First Symptoms
Six months later, I was back in shape. My friends from the outdoor community got me into running. I had no proper technique, no coach, no runner’s physique—just my stubborn head. I ended up running my first half-marathon, and soon after, I decided I wanted to push the limits even further.
Run trails. Don’t run on concrete or asphalt. Go to grass.
Third lesson
That was the first time I felt pain in my hip joint.
I fell in love with cross-country skiing. Ramsau am Dachstein, Skalka, Rožnov pod Radhoštěm. That’s where the hip issue accelerated. I accidentally entered a black trail and, once again, my stubborn head won over technique.
If you cross-country ski, you know—once you gain speed on a steep descent, there is no turning back. I jammed my poles between my legs and tried to drop my center of gravity. It ended with shattered carbon poles, a badly sprained hip, and a pain so intense it made me curse out loud. It took me an hour of limping just to reach my car, pretending everything was fine.
Don’t let your head get carried away. Don’t ski on a black run if you can’t even handle a blue one properly.
Fourth lesson
First symptoms
Then came the first symptoms that I could no longer ignore.
“Peter, you’re limping,” my friend Ľudka told me during a photoshoot. “I’m not limping,” I snapped back. “You are,” Ivan added.
Soon, I started noticing it too. It felt as if someone was constantly stabbing a long knitting needle straight into my knee. I could no longer run. Cycling became heavily restricted—I could only tolerate the specific geometry of a road race bike. I had to ditch the folding bike and the mountain bike entirely.
An MRI scan revealed a slightly slipped disc pressing on the sciatic nerve from my old injuries, but the real damage was deeper. I started making massive compromises. Running was replaced by Nordic walking poles. The pain grew more frequent and intense. I finally consulted a close friend who is a surgeon. He sent me for an X-ray.
The radiologist looked at the images with a very strange expression. My surgeon friend didn’t sugarcoat it: “Damn it, Peter, you had a fractured pelvis from one of your old crashes, and a bone fragment grew back in the wrong place. Your left hip is absolutely trashed. Within five years, you are a prime candidate for a joint replacement.”
The Verdict: Total Hip Replacement
I didn’t stop, though. I am a Strava-holic. A pure outdoor addict. In my best years, I clocked 18,000 km and 100,000 vertical meters annually. But after my last crash on a wet railway track right onto that fragile hip, I finally understood that my time as an unbreakable iron man was over.
At 63 years old, carrying 25 kg of excess weight, I was forced to hand over the torch to younger outdoor enthusiasts. I could no longer even hike up to High Tatras; on the descent, I was literally dragging my leg behind me.
For a while, Kostka fitness footbike became my ultimate therapy, allowing me to clock 30 km without intense pain. But you can’t outrun reality forever. Six years after that initial prognosis, the time had come.
The final medical verdict was clear: Total hip replacement
Post-Op Rehabilitation: 285 Steps to Freedom
When they stretched me out on the operating table at the Bory Hospital, I felt like Christ tied to the cross. That’s the last thing I remember before the anesthesia kicked in.
Two hours later, an elite physical therapist was already in my room. No crossing legs. No rotation. “Today, we just stand up, take a few steps, and do three series of these exercises.” Remembering how I slacked off after my old ankle injury, this time I listened to every single word like an obedient child.
Now, the post-op rehabilitation is my daily reality.
Crutches forward, left leg, right leg. Today, we tried the stairs. Going up: healthy leg first, then the crutches, then the operated leg. Going down, it’s the exact opposite. My crutch keeps trying to overtake my foot. “Do it properly,” the therapist laughs, “if you dislocate that new joint, we’ll have to redo the entire surgery.”
I just hope my 36 kg Labrador-Stafford mix, Beky, understands the “no jumping” rule when she sees me at home.
Tomorrow, I am being discharged, and next week I start a two-week ambulatory rehabilitation program. I’m moving to my countryside cottage. I have my wife, my daughter, my dog, three cats, a massive garden with a hundred trees, and a natural supply of Vitamin D. Nothing against sterile hospital rooms, but an outdoor garden shower with sun-warmed water in the grass is the real deal.
The Epilogue
During my first examination, Chief Physician asked me after hearing about my lifelong outdoor and cycling madness: “Would you change any of it?”
No.
Only now, looking back from this hospital room, do I realize that active sports, the movement, the Alpine passes, the 4,000 km solo gravel ride across the Australian outback—but most importantly, the incredible people and memories—are the best things that have happened to me in the last 20 years.
If the second hip cracks one day, the choice of where to go will be clear. I want to express my deepest gratitude to Chief Physician MUDr. Almaši, and his entire orthopedic team, from the brilliant nurses to the care staff, for an absolutely stellar, professional job. I never dared to hope that I would deal with a destroyed hip so quickly, so early, and with such minimal consequences. They didn’t just save me from chronic agony; they gave me a brand-new chance to live an active, full, and athletic life again. And that is no small thing.
The rest is up to me.
They say in a month I’ll be walking straight without a limp. But big goals require big challenges. See you within a year on top of the High Tatras peaks!
