From Knee Replacement Surgery to the Appalachian Trail
Ten years ago, my life changed with one game of volleyball. The next morning, my right knee had swollen to three times its normal size. The doctor’s verdict: osteoarthritis in both knees. “You’ll need replacements someday,” he said. That someday is now.
At the time, I wasn’t an athlete. I was a dad in my mid-40s trying to get healthy after a type 2 diabetes diagnosis. In 2007, my weight hit 325 pounds—the limit of my home scale. My A1C, which measures blood sugar control, was above 9.5. That diagnosis forced a choice: change, or keep spiraling.
I chose change. I cut out flour, sugar, and gluten. I found cycling and hiking. By 2011, I was riding centuries in the Tour de Cure and climbing New Hampshire’s 4,000-foot peaks. I even summited Mount Washington via Tuckerman Ravine, a climb of over 4,200 feet. I had discovered an active, hopeful way of living.
But arthritis had other plans. Walking and stairs grew painful. Hiking and cycling slipped away. I turned instead to gardening and homesteading, converting three acres of forest into a small farm to stay busy. But the weight returned, and the frustration grew. I found myself jealous of people who could walk easily, even smile while doing it. My A1C rose again to 9.1. I was stuck.
Then came 2025—a year of loss and change. My father passed away in June after a five-year battle with myelofibrosis. In his final months, I promised him I would fix my knees and get my health back on track. On May 12th, my doctor’s report confirmed how far I had slipped: 284 pounds, a BMI of 42.5, and an A1C climbing again. He told me it was time to seriously consider knee replacement.
On July 17th, I met with my longtime orthopedic doctor and said, “Let’s do this.” The conditions were clear: get my BMI under 40, drop below 260 pounds, strengthen my legs, and prepare mentally. If I didn’t, the surgery would be canceled.
So I went back to the basics. With my son Christopher cooking, I returned to the low-glycemic way of eating that once turned my life around: no sugar, no flour, no wheat, limited dairy. Detoxing from sugar wasn’t fun, but the weight began to drop. And with it came something unexpected: hope.
Could I hike again? Could I cycle? Could I return to the mountains?
That spark of possibility lit up an old dream: to walk the Appalachian Trail. All 2,190 miles. Georgia to Maine. Six months of living in the woods.
Today, I’m 50 days from my first knee replacement, with the second scheduled three months later. This blog, Two New Knees, One Long Walk, is my way of setting an intention. It’s about more than surgery or recovery—it’s about a nine-year journey that will end on Springer Mountain, Georgia. And from there, the real adventure begins—northbound on the Appalachian Trail.
Along the way, I’ll share the setbacks, the breakthroughs, and the lessons. I’ll write about managing diabetes, living with bilateral knee replacements, and chasing a life of purpose.
I hope you’ll walk with me.
— Two knees rebuilt. One dream revived. A life rebuilt, one step at a time.
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