I've really been holding my breath with this recovery, more so than the last one for some reason. After getting past the three-week point (which was two weeks ago, when I started to write this), I felt a little more at ease. Since then I've been changing my own dressing daily and slowly weaning off of crutches so I can now walk around in the boot—hands-free! I'm still a slave to icing and elevating as much as possible throughout the day. But the very best part? There's no other foot left to do. After this, I'm done, done, done . I can start to return to a life not defined by sitting and waiting and feeling confined and limited and trying my hardest to heal but having little actual control over any of it. I wrote in my last post about the difficult emotions I'd been having throughout this second surgery recovery. I think I underestimated the psychological toll I would take doing one foot right after the other. And while there was a feeling of elation after gett...

In the past week, I ran my last run, I swam my last swim, and I rode my last ride—at least for a while. I did four distinct loads of laundry (which I did not know was possible for me); I stocked up on necessities—toilet paper, hygiene things, dry goods, some frozen foods, medications/supplements; I pre-made a couple of foods I knew I'd want afterward; I typed up all the necessary (and some unnecessary) details of my surgery to send in emails to my family and my employer; I drank a large glass of water mixed with a disgusting packet of detoxing/alkalizing powder the past three nights, because the guy at Whole Foods told me I should and I was too afraid of what might haven if I didn't; I made readily available my yoga mat, ab roller, and dumbellls and pulled out my book of yoga anatomy that shows seated and supine poses—for when the motivation stikes me to exercise; I made sure everything I'd want was accessible—not too high or too low, as I won't be able to lift heavy th...

Yesterday I turned 33. Aside from being the alleged age of death of both Jesus and Alexander the Great, this age is rather unremarkable. Yet, over the past almost year, some remarkable things have occurred that have made me feel so much gratitude that I want to give the world a giant hug. I met my wonderful boyfriend, went on a family beach vacation and a family trip to Ohio , I PR'd in all the race distances I ran, I got to meet my newest niece , and I ran a successful marathon . Thirty-two has been a good year. But a recent event has sort of tempered my celebratory mood. I learned that a woman I knew when I was a teenager passed away. My twin sister, Anna, and I babysat for her kids on a regular basis in our high school years. Marla was her name, and she had found our babysitting ad in the small community newspaper called the Treasure Chest , which was hand-delivered door to door in several adjoining neighborhoods. She was sweet, bright, and energetic, and she seemed to adore t...

This past weekend was one of great joy peppered with moments of sadness. It was my birthday weekend, but it was also the weekend I had previously planned to be in D.C. to run the Marine Corps Marathon. While I'd somewhat made peace with the fact that I wouldn't be able to run the marathon, due to injury, I knew that the actual race day, the same as my birthday, would tug a bit at my heart strings. But I was lucky enough to stay occupied with birthday activities all weekend long, with only a couple of intermissions in which to take my quiet time to be alone and just feel sad. The weekend started off with birthday coffee with a friend at the Oxford Exchange . This is a new venue in Tampa, basically downtown, that houses a coffee shop, a tea shop, a bookstore, a home goods store, a restaurant, and rentable upstairs meeting space. The building is historic, located across from the University of Tampa campus. The coffee and tea vendors that occupy the building just happen t...

I'm en route to Chicago, floating among the puffs of clouds and just a hand reach away from the bright, burning sun. Other runners are on my flight. I know this by their promotional garb, worn proudly, and I realize that I forgot my own t-shirt that my mom and her sisters sent me as a gift of support and encouragement. I kick myself for forgetting the shirt, but I'm soon reminded of the many different people in my life who helped get me here. There is my running group, who by their mere presence and their own achievements have encouraged and enhanced my training for the past several months; my family, who has offered support and comfort in uncountable ways throughout this process; my coworkers, who have cheered me on for each weekend's long run and cared enough to inquire about my progress along the way; and my friends, who have at times trained with me, commiserated with me, and offered their hospitality during my stay in the Windy City. While I'm going to this race ...