This morning, I’m going to run a Turkey Trot.
When I went back to the doctor on November 12, which was eleven weeks post-op, he said I could do some light jogging. I was ecstatic, and that afternoon I went out and ran a mile.
My foot was fine. The rest of my body was wondering what the heck I was trying to do.
Thankfully, anything with the name “Turkey Trot” is likely not going to be competitive. I think the course is three miles, and I honestly don’t know how much of it I’ll be able to run. I haven’t run more than a mile at a time since I had my surgery. I could maybe push it and run two miles, but three? I might collapse in a heap because my legs have forgotten what it is to run. And by that time, my foot might be swollen enough to rival the gigantic Snoopy balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
But I’m still going to try. Because it’s only two weeks until my second surgery, and then three months after that before I’ll be permitted to run again.
So, I might just be trotting, or even walking — heck, maybe just strolling. But I’m going for it anyway.