D kept me company on what was supposed to be my first post-surgery run today.
I tried.
... And failed.
I wasn't aiming for anything overly optimistic: just a little jog, a trot really, to the Farmer's Market. It was going to be all of 1.0-1.5 miles at a slow, leisurely pace. But I couldn't do it. No, I didn't run, I shuffled along and dragged my feet.
I kept this up for maybe 200 meters, highly conscious of the fact that instead of gracefully loping along Embarcadero, I was ker-flopping awkwardly like a wounded animal. Then it dawned on me, that it would be faster (and less painful) for me to just walk briskly. So that's what we did for the rest of the way.
It was much harder than I thought it'd be. D reminded me that I shouldn't be so hard on myself since I could barely walk less than two weeks ago. Not exactly the powerful re-entry into training that I'd hoped, but it's a start.
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