Week 5

On Labor day, I go running for the first time in months. Well, it is not running like I used to, but it is running. I look something like a man with one leg 3 inches shorter then the other, swaying pack and forth. I run a mile (in about 12 minutes - - I still have a long way to go). Then I ice it, and the knee feels ok.

The next day, my knee hurts, and both of my thighs are killing me. I waddle around all day, then after a meeting at church, get home and my 11 ½ year old son Matthew wants to go running (he is supposed to run for soccer training). Not wanting to miss that father/son bonding opportunity, we go running. I wear my brace this time, and it adds stability, but limits my gate. We finish, (I think I slowed him down quite a bit) my legs throb and I remember why I dreaded getting old: Recovery time is more the one-day. It may be more then one week.

Tomorrow I have PT in the morning (ugh) and then fly to Atlanta for the rest of the week. Lots of walking through airports (I do plan to take my ankle wait along).