I've been doing my physical therapy exercises daily. And I've ever so slowly been adding core exercises (like planks and reverse crunches.) Yesterday, I set out for a road run, a little leary. The wind blew hard as my feet hit the pavement. I cringed, bracing for the worst. But I was pleasantly, no . . . more than pleasantly, more like exhilerated over the fact that I felt no pain, not even an ache in my hip. I was afraid though, because I could still feel that my hip wasn't right. It felt weak, as if I was recovering from an accident (in a way, I guess, I was).
Believe me, I was oh so careful not even to twist in the wrong way. I focused on posture and form, and gingerly stepped off curbs. I didn't even cut across the grass woven with thick roots in fear that I'd step on one of those roots and jar my hip. Didn't touch the sand, just stayed on that pavement for the whole, windy, windy run along the wharf and beaches.
Believe me, I was oh so careful not even to twist in the wrong way. I focused on posture and form, and gingerly stepped off curbs. I didn't even cut across the grass woven with thick roots in fear that I'd step on one of those roots and jar my hip. Didn't touch the sand, just stayed on that pavement for the whole, windy, windy run along the wharf and beaches.
For sure I'm healing. The trick is, to keep it up.
Miles logged on Tuesday morning: 7.26. But I feel sad when I look off yonder at those green hills calling out my name.
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