On the run... a little bit.

So a few things have happened since my last post. My foot got better and I got eager. My January appointment (12 weeks post op), went well. Doc said he never wants to see my foot again. So my mind said, "lets gooooooooooooooooooo".

BUT.... No jumping, no running. For at least a couple of months. Yeah. Whatever. I decide to run/walk anyway. It went well. I was sore, as expected. Took it easy again, then decided to run/walk again to try and prove something. To whom? I don't know. Still sore from that.

I've decided to go back to the easy and responsible way of healing. (i'm also laughing at this with you). I'm turning 50 in 4 days. WHAT!?

For something that was seemingly completely broken in half, and to heal in a way like nothing ever happened because all of the other parts around it protected it, thanks to the doctors, God, and the unseen strength built into us.

All I Needed Was The Say So...

Eight weeks post-op. Nine weeks post-break.

Sometimes that’s all it takes—the green light. The permission to trust your body again. I’m a firm believer that when there is a will, there is a way, and today my doctor gave me exactly what I needed.

His words? There is enough hardware in my foot that I don’t need to be afraid of it anymore. I can work it out. I can stretch it. I can push it to the limit. It will not break.

Pause. Deep breath. Freedom.

Then came the follow-up: “But do not run. And do not jump.”

Wait… what? You just said it won’t break.

Maybe he’s talking about the other foot. 😄

In all seriousness, this season has been one long lesson in patience, trust, and listening—really listening—to my body. Progress doesn’t always look like leaping forward. Sometimes it looks like controlled movement, intentional stretching, and honoring the process while still believing in what’s possible.

So here’s where I am: grounded, motivated, and moving forward—just not running or jumping yet. And that’s okay. Because I’ve got the say-so now, and for me, that changes everything.

7 Weeks Post-op

Seven weeks post-op feels… different. I finally saw where all the hardware lives and, wow, I can literally feel every screw like they’re paying rent in there. 😟

They told me, “Only ditch the crutches if it feels comfortable.”

So naturally, I said, “Perfect, permission granted,” and tossed them like a bad habit.

My pain tolerance is way too high for my own good, and the rebel in me is READY to ditch all of it and sprint into the sunset.

I Googled just how bad this injury actually is. And after a mild panic and a dose of humility… I’ve decided to comply. 🫣

Fine. FINE. I’ll behave.

Healing, but with attitude. lol