One year ago today. I could not walk without help.

I smashed my knee on July 4th, 2020. The highlight of an especially terrible year. Had to have surgery to put all those pieces back together. Because as the surgeon said “ we have to fix your knee so when you have to have a knee replacement there will be something to put the knee replacement on.” (The reality of aging—which I have done my best to deny.) Followed up by 3 months on a walker.

OMG. A year ago right now I was off the walker and crutches but still hanging onto walls, tables, and arms as I crept outward. A walking sick was always at my side.

And. Before I smashed my knee, I was running, and yogaing, and bicycling and lifting weights. Daily.

After finally getting off the walker I started out walking to the end of the driveway and announced success. Then to the end of the street. Arms up in the air in triumph.

Visited my beautiful daughter Jes and her wonderful husband Andrew in DC for Thanksgiving 2020. (After the appropriate time of quarantining by all parties) Andrew’s parents and sister also came. So much fun. I walked around some blocks. And some more blocks. Pain was significant but didn’t take over my progress.

Six months ago I reached out to a friend that had the same injury. I’m still in pain. When will it get better? She said 4 years. I felt kinda crushed.

I continued. Walked up to 2 miles a day. Doing yoga. Meditating (still waiting for enlightenment). Using a rowing machine and a stationary bike. Lifting weights. Never giving up.

And a few weeks ago. I noticed that I’m better. Certainly not as I was before the injury, but so much better.

Gotta say. It was a slow realization. After all the pain and depression. I’m better.

Not perfect. I’ll never be a long distance runner again. But really. I’m 65. Walking two 15 minute miles is amazing after only a little more than a year ago being in a walker. Better. Not perfect. But better.

Truth. I am blessed.

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