Typical for me—just as I was about to start training on the Elgin for this summer’s ride—I ended up derailing my efforts with a back injury (which revealed itself simply by getting up from a chair). With a history of assorted crashes and falls, it’s not surprising I blew out another disc.
This time, however, I managed to impinge the nerve at the L3-L4 level—a new one for me. One of the two best-developed muscle groups in my body was now failing. My left quadriceps could no longer support my weight, and the pain was certainly “fun.” From my experience with three previous laminectomies, I knew spinal surgery was in my future—and the sooner the better to stave off permanent nerve damage. This unfolding scenario carried a potentially dooming outcome for my cycling dream: a two-day, 214-mile, 1936 Elgin re-creation ride. So, I was off to the local hospital’s ER.
Cyclists rely on many muscle groups, but clearly the quads are paramount in the act of riding a bike. Just to justify my fear, here’s a list (ranked by recruitment) of the primary muscle groups used in cycling:
| Rank | Muscle Group | Function in Cycling |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Quads | Main source of pedaling power |
| 2 | Hamstrings | Pull and balance stroke |
| 3 | Glutes | Hip extension and big climbs |
| 4 | Calves | Ankle stability and toe-off |
| 5 | Hip Flexors | Leg lift and cadence control |
| 6 | Core | Stability and endurance |
| 7 | Lower Back | Postural support |
| 8 | Deltoids | Arm/shoulder balance |
| 9 | Triceps | Elbow support |
| 10 | Forearms/Hands | Grip and handling |
Clearly, losing use of any muscle group is life-altering. Trust me—I limp around like Lurch. But diminished strength in my quads would be the most life-altering for me to date.
A Friday night ER visit is suboptimal for numerous reasons (injured partiers crowding the facility, etc.). If you’re not bleeding out and need admission, you’ll wait all weekend before any tests or seeing a surgeon. So, rather than sit in a hospital bed for three days, I opted to suffer at home and return on Monday.
Talk about stupid decisions. As luck—or Murphy’s Law No. 1—would have it, that choice delayed my diagnosis even further. From one mistake to another, with charting delays and repeated bumps from the hospital’s MRI schedule, I still ended up laying in a hospital bed for three days. Add in the maze of modern insurance requirements, and I’m lucky it was only days, not weeks.
After all the delays, the MRI was finally performed. The results confirmed that surgery was the best chance to restore function to my quad. Even the untrained could interpret this radiologist’s read: a significant portion of my herniated disc had migrated into the spinal canal and was pressing on the nerve. With results in hand, I waited to hear from the surgeon.
The following morning, Dr. Olson from Neurosurgeons of New Jersey arrived for my consult. I’m pretty sure that even before the MRI results, he had already determined that his skills would be required. Based on the physical exams conducted by his team, Dr. Olson had already suspected the need for surgery. The MRI simply confirmed his experience-based acumen and gave him the imagery needed to proceed.
If you’re in New Jersey and need a neurosurgeon, I highly recommend
Dr. Olson and his group Neurosurgeons of New Jersey
With my past back surgeries I thought myself somewhat versed in what he was about to say. But as with the bulk of my knowledge, I was about 35 years behind in my expectations. He explained that my forthcoming 21st century procedure was called a microdiscectomy. Simply put, a less invasive method. Here is the Wiki/AI take…
A microdiscectomy is a minimally invasive surgical procedure used to treat a herniated disc in the spine. During the operation, a small incision is made, and the surgeon uses a microscope or magnifying tool to carefully remove the portion of the damaged disc that is pressing on a nerve root or the spinal cord. This relieves pain, numbness, or weakness caused by the herniation. The procedure typically takes about an hour, and most patients can go home the same day, with recovery taking a few weeks.”
The history of microdiscectomy reflects the evolution of spinal surgery toward less invasive techniques. Here’s a brief rundown:
Spinal surgery for disc issues dates back to the early 20th century. In 1934, William Jason Mixter and Joseph S. Barr published a landmark paper linking sciatica to herniated lumbar discs, popularizing discectomy—the removal of disc material to relieve nerve pressure. Early discectomies were open procedures involving large incisions, significant muscle dissection, and long recovery times.
The shift to microdiscectomy began in the 1970s with advances in surgical tools and optics. In 1977, American neurosurgeon John A. McCulloch and Turkish surgeon Gazi Yaşargil independently pioneered the use of the operating microscope in discectomy. This allowed for smaller incisions (about 1–2 inches), precise visualization, and less trauma to surrounding tissues. Around the same time, Dutch surgeon Hijme Caspar refined the technique further with specialized retractors and instruments, cementing the modern microdiscectomy approach.
By the 1980s, studies showed that microdiscectomy reduced hospital stays and improved outcomes. By the 1990s, it became the gold standard for treating herniated discs, especially with the advent of better imaging like MRI.
Today, microdiscectomy is a routine outpatient procedure, often done in under an hour, with most patients walking the same day. Its development reflects the broader trend toward minimally invasive surgery, driven by better tech and a focus on faster recovery.
Another two days passed in a hospital bed while I waited for my surgery to be scheduled. The morning of the procedure, I scrubbed down with antiseptic wipes, received prophylactic antibiotics, and met the OR staff. After reconfirming my life history, they wheeled me in. Joking with the anesthesiologist as she pushed the wonder drug into my IV was the last thing I remember.
The wonderful thing about anesthesia is that you (usually) wake up with no memory of the procedure. Then you wait for someone to tell you how it went. In my case, my first conscious action was to test whether I had regained any range of motion in my leg. I had.
Soon after, a smiling Dr. Olson appeared and confirmed all had gone well. He showed me a picture of what he had extracted from my spine and explained his recovery protocol. My joy at the restored motion was quickly tempered by a dose of reality: six weeks of restricted activity—and definitely no bicycles. My ride was slipping away.
