12 Weeks Post Op 

520 steps.

It is 520 steps from my door to the nearest Starbucks. It is 520 steps to my cup of deliciously calorific coffee-like concoctions. Starbucks was the first place I walked to after my knee surgery. After making best friends with the couch and reality television (omg, can you even believe the last 3 seasons of Real Housewives!?)...it took me a little while to get accustomed to interacting with actual humans again. I hobbled outside and there they were...all of them...skipping and dancing...sauntering and ambling...basically mocking me with their powers of mobility.

My mantra for these past 12 weeks has been, "what...so you think you're better than me?"

I say it to everyone....everyone who appears even slightly more ambulatory than me.

Tada! There I am. That was about 10.5 weeks ago. I hadn't showered in a week. It was awesome...not showering leaves time for more scholarly pursuits...like watching the Real Housewives I suppose.

Fast forward to this morning. Today, ladies and germs, I "jogged" for the first time since injuring myself 5.5 months ago. It was strange.

I used to feel that running was so freeing...so relaxing. It's where I had my best thoughts (e.g. Why don't they package cereal in resealable bags, damn it!). Today my thoughts were, "ouch" and "ooof" and "don't cry in front of all these people, Kerry."

And it was only 1.5 minutes of jogging.

I don't post often...but I thought that I should post this. ...Just to remember how I felt. I'm scared, but optimistic. Running has always been tied into my self-esteem, so here we go. I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other to get my sanity back.

Oh, and because you've been such a good reader who checks in here from time to time, I'll reward you with my pre-op picture. This was taken exactly when I was crowded by 12 people who were poking me and saying things like..."We're getting ready to put this catheter in your leg. It's a nerve block."

And I was like, "say what? is that what I just signed?"

...I don't remember anything else. I'm sure I was trying (but failing miserably) to be funny. The next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room.

It's a good look for me.


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