September arrived and I’m not sure how much closer to running I am. But life goes on, I have to keep reminding myself.

After 3.5 months, I finally got off the crutches after my last doctor’s visit at the end of July. I was *supposed* to keep using them to walk longer distances (defined by him as “more than a few blocks”), but on 8/1 I strolled five miles in Central Park just because it was possible.  I kept walking all month wherever I could, through the heat, for as long as I felt comfortable (with my physio’s OK, of course). Over 100 miles (in the month, not in one day, sillies!)

Also in August, I progressed through more and more challenging PT exercises until they got hard enough to warrant a rest day in between (leg presses, yay!), swam until I felt like my right arm would fall off, did a little yoga (which landed me in a wrist brace for a couple of days), hung on the back of a motorcycle for 250 miles one day, bounced on a trampoline, walked up and down the steep path to Clingman’s Dome in North Carolina, bored myself a few times on the elliptical and stationary bike, and climbed 80 or so flights on the stair machine. Basically, everything except running, the absence of which still leaves a hole in me. I plan, I dream, I bargain and wait, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to where I was with it. Aches and pains roam around my right hip, discomforts that I can live with but not that I’d want to run any significant distance with. That part of me is still broken and there’s no willing it fixed, only patience that’s been wearing thin going on five months.

But enough of this pity party. My recovery is going well enough, and I have another doctor’s visit tomorrow, hoping for good news. And a big non-running adventure on Saturday, which I refuse to jinx by discussing until after it’s done.