Ten years ago, I had knee surgery.
I will never forget what the doctor told me when I woke up. “It’s worse than we thought.” He then added that the drugs from the surgery would mean that I wouldn’t remember those words, but he was wrong. Running as I knew it ended that day.
Seven years later, I had a hip replacement. Arthritis is the family bane. But this time, I wasn’t even thinking about running. Not only had I gained dozens of pounds, but the hip was so bad that the surgeon took one look at the X-ray and said, “That’s a bad hip. Let me check my schedule to see if we can move up your surgery.”
She did, for which I was grateful. I’d reached the point where the 150 meters from the nearest parking spot to the track where I was then coaching had become the longest walk I could manage without a break, and I took it for granted that there would be a time or two each day when the pain would be enough to make me nauseous.
But this is not that kind of story.
Because earlier this month, I rediscovered racing.
Great story, Rich! Congratulations.
This one really was personal. A few days later I returned to the same course and jogged 2/3 of it–something I did again today, to celebrate my birthday. It “felt” like running. For ten years, I had only felt that feeling in dreams. And suddenly for one blessed day (and again, today), I had it for real, awake. It was overwhelming. The knee probably has limited life. I’m trying now to figure out how to be fit enough to treat myself to this every now and then (without it becoming an out-of-shape death march), while not “spending” it all at once. I’m doing some pretty fierce PT. That’s another article (already assigned).