This morning, I got up at 6:00 a.m. to run 8 miles. This time of morning is still a little bit unfamiliar to me. It's dark, and I'm a little clumsy to begin with soon after I wake up. Given these factors, and the fact that a cab was making a U-turn in the middle of the street I was running on, which caused me to veer off of my straight path, I tripped over something (or nothing?), thought I caught myself, stumbled a couple more times forward on my feet, thought I was safe again, and then eventually fell right into a mud puddle, skinning my hand and my back, and of course, a little bit of my pride. I think I really scared the cab driver, who rolled his window down and, with astonishment, asked, "Are you okay?" Before he could finish, I said firmly, "I'm fine, I'm fine. Thanks." I tried to collect myself, realizing there was no use trying to brush the dirt off, before continuing on the remaining 7.75 miles I had yet to run.
I'm now more than 12 weeks recovered from my second (and final!) foot surgery, and life is starting to feel a little more normal. When I l ast wrote an update , seven weeks ago (still blaming Irma for all of my delays), I had just gotten off of crutches but would wear my boot for two more weeks. I've been out of the boot and walking in shoes for just over five weeks. The constant discomfort I've felt in my foot from swelling is finally starting to wane. I work in the office now, I do my own groceries, and I even attended a work conference recently, which meant lots of walking at airports and the conference hotel, frequent standing, and few opportunities to elevate and ice. I was very concerned about how my feet, particularly the left one, would endure. And while it wasn't comfortable, I made it through, no worse for the wear in the end. I joined a new gym/community center recently, with a new and beautiful outdoor pool, and I'm so happy that I'm able to use
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