The New Normal

I had not run since 2008. But I was healed up from everything and was into my 11th year of an intimate relationship with my couch. We were still getting along as well as we ever did, but I felt like a blob.

I had a fake hip. Could I run? The physiotherapists at the hip and knee clinic said no. (They told me I’d never be able to cross my legs again, too.) The physiotherapists where I did my rehab looked at me strangely when I asked if I could go back to running. Apparently no one had ever asked that question after a THR before. (I think most of their THR patients were a tad older than me.) They looked some stuff up for me and said it would be fine. Recent studies had proven it did not damage the new joint any more than day to day wear and tear. To top it off, my surgeon had told me to let the hip tell me what it would tolerate.

Late spring 2019. I’m thinking I could give it a go, but instead of training myself like I had the previous umpteen times I’d started over, I should take a class. The most basic class offered and see if the hip had opinions about the whole exercise thing. Plus, if it dislocated on me, I’d have the whole class to help me back to my car! I wasn’t worried about my feet at all. My foot strike had adjusted nicely and I usually experienced little to no pain.

I should look it up and see. Maybe in a month I’d be ready to get some shoes (actual ladies’ shoes instead of men’s that accommodated my wide-foot bunions!) and some age and weight appropriate apparel. I don’t expect to look good — that’s not gonna happen — I just don’t want to run naked and scare anyone.

I emailed the Running Room for the Learn to Run class. Did they have a class for old farts?
– Our classes are for all ages. (I’d like to state here, no they’re not.)
– I’d like the Learn to Run course, please.
– You’re in luck! The course at your location is starting next Monday. You can register online.
– (Trying to remember how to inhale.) OK. Thanks lots.

Decision time. I can continue my comfortable sloth-like life, in which case I will have cured my physical ails so I could be the bride of La-Z-Boy the rest of whatever, or I could tell the couch I just want to be friends going forward and take the plunge. And, hey, maybe the hip doesn’t want to run and I know the couch will always wait for me. Registration done. And that’s the end of that.