I did it...

...and I'm writing you from my comfy chair. Not a gurney (which I keep wanting to spell Guernsey, which would be an entirely different ride).

I summoned my courage, stretched my leg, and I found that I have more bend in my knee than just a week ago. I put a little lotion on the scar to keep it nice and flexible. Then I snuck out the back door and with great and quiet glee I went to my long neglected, but much-loved bike. As if to dramatically underscore the moment, I literally had to wipe the cobwebs off. A perfect composition by a perfectly talented spider destroyed with a wave of my hand. I backed the bike off the porch, wheeled it out the gate, adjusted the seat, and then carefuly sat down on it. And after quickly assessing the risk, I took off. I opted for the highest gears so I didn't have to pedal as much, and I did find I favored my good knee for the heavy pedaling, but--oh, lah!--what a joy it was to float across the top of the pavement. What a thoroughly different way to travel: no limping, no bobbing, no hobbling--and QUICK! What a joyous way to celebrate my month out of surgery.

At first the knee was stiff. A moment of doubt crossed my mind. But then, half way down the block, the knee loosened up, as if to say, Oh, alright already, I get it, we're gonna start doing THIS stuff again. As I rounded the block, headed towards home, my knee had (dog metaphor coming up) rolled-over, legs-in-the-air, vulnerable-belly-pointed-skyward given in. I was comfortably pedaling. However, I could tell that my thigh muscles were now bickering. So...I can tell that it's not just my knee that's gonna need a re-introduction to full-out mobility.

And, no, Hubby was not trailing behind me begging me to rethink this exercise. This was my solo victory lap. I'm actually kinda giddy about it. I can imagine that I'll be able to start riding to work again and--perhaps--undo some of the damage the holidays did to my diet.

P.S. Can cows get PVNS? Or is this little affliction reserved for the mammals who can laugh at themselves? I know, I know. "Laughing Cow." But that's just cheese. Don't think for a minute that a cow ever stopped to ponder "Bergson's Taxonomy of Comedic Principles." (Highly recommended reading for those of you who need to understand why people laugh at you.) Upshot: 90% of laughter is derision, 5% is incongruity and surprise, and 3% is something called automatism, which is something about the organic becoming oddly mechanical...kind of like watching the Rockettes. And, yes, I've neglected a dangling 2% here, but that's your cue to laugh at me with 90% derision. Now back to PVNS and cows: They've got bigger joints than I do: perfect breeding ground for this insidious little disease, don't you think? I suspect I know why I haven't heard of other animals with PVNS: Because cows can't use crutches. If they can't get up to get milked, they're probably shot. Glad my regimen only involved a slight filet-ing of the knee. Listen, Doc, trust me. I can get up and around. Really I can. Now put down that .35!

One more thing: I do not plan to put myself into another analogy with a cow any time soon.