I’m no longer a runner and won’t be, not ever ever again.
And if you know me well (or maybe not even very well), you know how heavy this news is; how difficult to absorb. I wonder a lot about how long runners’ rage will stay with me – that overwhelming feeling of wanting to drive over any runner I see out on the bike path. Of wanting to trip women in winter running tights coasting through campus, feeling snowflakes falling onto their chilled, rosy-red cheeks. Of being unable to breathe for a few seconds (minutes? A lifetime?) when I realize it’s sunny outside and I can’t go run. Oh, and just releasing some of that stress………..eek.
So yeah. It’s not a brain tumor. And I would NEVER make light of that; it’s something a friend said to me in an effort to put some of this in perspective.
This blog is about my journey – emotional, mental and physical – through hip pain and surgery and all that badass shit that goes along with it. I’ll try to keep the f-bombs at a minimum (What, what?? No I won’t!).
Periacetabular osteotomy. Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, especially the first time you say it. But as you try it out a few times, saying it quietly to yourself on your way home from the orthopedist’s office, it gets a little easier to say. And perhaps that’s the first step. First of many en route to accepting this new me.
I’m a little hesitant about blogging – partly because I am a very, very rusty writer – after obtaining a minor in creative writing a zillion years ago, I suppose I figured that this skill would just stay with me forever. Alas, it needs constant attention or it withers. AND because I don’t have just one style of writing. AND because I’m not so great at sharing my feelings. But fuck, I can be sarcastic as anyone you’ve ever known. And sometimes funny as shit.
So maybe there’ll be something worth writing about. We shall see.