Today I got permission to completely ditch the crutches and start exercising on a stationary bike, jumping rope, as well as engage in some light jogging, which, as Will Ferrell reminds us in Anchorman, is sort of when you just run for an extended period of time. Sounds so easy.
I've never had surgery before, and I hope to never have it again. I also never want to be on crutches again (to those of you shouting, "Come on, what's wrong with crutches? They're glorious!" I know, I know, but they're just not for me). Now the recovery begins. It's hard to believe that I devolved from setting a personal record in a half-marathon last December to today, when I'm struggling to walk down my block and back. But I know that many people have it much worse than I do, and I also know I'll be running once again.
Regardless of my progress, I made sure to get a doctor's note informing whoever may be concerned about such things that I probably shouldn't be washing dishes or mowing the lawn or in general cleaning up after myself anytime soon. The tragedy, oh, the tragedy.