I'd like to tell you the best 3.2 miles I've ever run was my 5K PR. I should probably at least say it was the last three hellish miles (plus that nasty point two) of a marathon. But no, it was tonight's run.
"Look, Nick, the MRI shows some early arthritis and your meniscus is funky, but I don't see anything majorly wrong...if you are pain-free, then let's try running and see." That was the call from my doctor at 4:33 PM today.
I've been worried I wouldn't come back. I've been worried I wouldn't still enjoy running. What if I don't still love it and want to do it? What if I can't even run a mile?
My pace and heart rate were all over the place. But hey, don't call it a comeback, right?
It felt like flying. No, I'm a pilot, I know of flying. It felt even better. It felt like the first stress-free, decompressing, I'll-be-ok moment of the last three months.
Tonight, my knee is still tender. That's ok. I celebrated with loud Springsteen and quinoa for dinner. It'll be a long road back, but it's nice to know the feeling is still there.