The John Deere Shoulder Massacre

A month ago, I developed “golfer’s elbow”—a tender, nagging ache in my inner right elbow, courtesy of my stubborn devotion to single-arm kettlebell rows. Instead of backing off like a sensible adult, I “modified” the exercise into something more idiotic: a lawnmower pull, yanking the kettlebell skyward like I was trying to start a rusty John Deere.

The good news: within a couple of weeks, the elbow pain disappeared. The bad news: two weeks ago, my left rotator cuff staged a protest and tore, lightly but persistently. The pain has lingered, not as vicious as before, but enough to remind me that recovery at sixty-four runs on geological time. If it truly is a minor tear, I’m looking at six to twelve weeks before my shoulder forgives me.

When—if—this shoulder heals, I have no illusions about returning to my “factory settings.” The glory days of kettlebell carnage six days a week are behind me. The new plan: three or four sessions, lighter weights, and absolutely no more lawnmower rows. Instead, I’m pivoting to Zone 2 circuit training—steady sweat, elevated heart rate, endorphins over ego, sanity over low-rep bravado.

For me, exercise isn’t just exercise—it’s therapy. It’s the way I shut down the mental chatter and scrub the cobwebs out of my skull. A life coach wants me to analyze my feelings. I’d rather blast them out with sweat and iron.

Still, I know this is whack-a-mole. One injury heals, another pops up. That’s the deal when you insist on playing Atlas with kettlebells well past the warranty period. The only answer is to be smarter. The lawnmower row? It was my dumbest idea yet. Never again.