I turned 34 this morning. Cheers, Joan! Cheers, Tim! Thanks for bringing me into the world.
I decided a few days ago that it's a lot better to be 34, out of shape, and just starting on the road to fitness than 40, 50, or 60, out of shape, and just starting on the road to fitness. I have, therefore, gone on three jogs in the last five days.
Being a person of fast metabolism, I can be deceptively out of shape without standing out to my friends and loved ones as a person in poor condition. Believe me. I am a person in poor condition. Today, I had a major fitness milestone: I ran so far, and so fast, that my fat chihuahua started to pant and lag behind. Small steps. (Apparently she, too, is a person in poor condition. With shorter legs.)
Here's one small miracle: my right knee, which I injured in 1998 in a collision with an Irish Wolfhound and which has no anterior cruciate ligament (total tear), had a transformative experience last fall and I am like a new person! This experience came after 14 years of nearly constant mild to moderate pain, loud clicking and grating, and one diagnosis by an orthopedic surgeon as "the worst knee [he'd] ever seen that [was] still being walked on."
Last fall, I was riding my bike along the road in slow, stoic discomfort. Pedal, crackle, wince. Pedal, crackle, wince. Pedal, crackle, wince. Then, at the corner of Wickersham Street and Innis Creek Road, something tore loose. The crackling stopped. The knee surged with a lightening streak of pain. It swelled up, bruised badly, and was generally more dysfunctional than ever for a day or two after the experience, but do you know what? I have had NO knee pain in the ensuing 8 months. None! It's amazing. My theory is that a flap of my torn meniscus cartilage had been bending the wrong way with every step for 14 years and that finally, on that bike ride, it broke loose. It must have settled someplace out of the way, because I haven't felt it since. Fingers crossed. I hope it's gone for good!
Next step: a 5K charity run in September for the Humane Society of Skagit Valley. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.