Something stirred in me this morning. I felt an itch that I needed to scratch, so as I got up I begin to plot my scheme. I had someone to drop off at football nice and early and I knew that it was gonna be a hot one today. So, I quickly made my plan to head down to my good old happy place, Highbanks.
It’s been over six weeks. Six weeks since my knee was given a death sentence. Over six weeks since I’ve run my last step. Some days are harder than others, that’s for sure.
Luckily I’ve had swimming to fall back on. And that has kept me sane throughout this whole process. Well as close to sane as I can get.
As I got closer to the trail, the nostalgia hit me like a wave of sadness. I had missed the “greening” of Highbanks this year. That’s what I call spring and Highbanks. The time when everything is just waking up, everything is a bright, fresh green. Later, that bright green becomes the deep green that we see for the rest of the season.
As I drove down the long road leading to the very bottom where it’s flat, I took in all of the sights and sounds. Oh, how I have missed this place. I parked the car, put on my trusty brace, and grabbed my trekking pole. It was the most silent, peaceful, blissful one mile walk I have done in the longest of times.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I got back into the car to go home and face the rest of the day. If I had chosen to have surgery, I would still be non-weight bearing and stuck at home. I would be in a very dark head space that I am not interested in knowing intimately. I would be stuck in a perpetual pity party for all of the things I would be missing out on. I’ll take my 1 mile, thank you very much.
That little taste of happiness will last me a good long time.