Last night was night six of the new 1-mile hike. It was also the first night I began to reconsider if my goal of walking the "Classic" next year was a reasonable goal.
As I walked, I started thinking about my body. Maybe I was asking too much of it too soon. In the past 21-months I had had seven surgeries, spent 50-days hospitalized, and had gone through nine months of rehab. Maybe I had been unrealistic. I'm sure nobody would think less of me if I decided to change my mind. In fact, some had told me it was too soon only to hear me say I believed I could do this. I don't have a problem admitting when I'm wrong, but the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint myself. When I got back to the house I barely made it up the stairs to my room. When I got up there I turned on my extra air conditioner and ceiling fan, kicked off my shoes, then climbed into my bed without a shower, still wearing my sweat-soaked clothes. I turned out my light and think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
This morning I woke up feeling like I had been run-over by a train. That's not to say I know what it feels like to be run-over by a train; but it couldn't feel much worse than this. When I finally made it into the shower, dressed, and down the stairs, I was pretty certain I wouldn't/couldn't walk tonight. I remembered "all things in moderation." That's when I decided to change my training schedule, but not give in to the pain ... not disappointing myself.
So, it’s one foot in front of the other to the finish line!
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