Lilly

Right now, the most comforting sound in the world is the clank of the barbell settling back into its rack. I sit up red-faced, arms already protesting. “Damn, you cranked those out,” says my spotter as she starts unloading and re-racking the extra weights on the bar.

I shrug and wave a hand at the guy on the next rack. “He’s pushing more than I am.”
I’m still about two weeks out from surgery, but I am already trying to begin the act of healing. I’m eating better, stretching more, drinking enough water. I’m stacking heavier weight on my shoulders and pulling kilometer after kilometer on an old rowing machine in the school gym. The muscles in my upper body are starting to stand out but those in my legs are fading beneath my skin and it is frustrating. All I can do, I’m doing, and they’re still warning me not to run a step.

Two weeks and I start from scratch. If all goes as planned during the initial stages of recovery, I could begin training again on the first day of the New Year. An omen, don’t you think? A fresh start. ♦