12 minutes

For the first time since the very first week in September, I ran outside today. My PT wanted me to run on the softer surface of the local high school track to see how my leg felt because tomorrow may be my last appointment with her. I didn't have the butterflies or nervousness that I had when I ran for the first time in PT after 4 weeks off -- I didn't worry if I would forget how to run, I didn't have that adrenaline surge from the thought of getting to run after such a long time off. What I did have was excitement. Hope. Anticipation.

And then I got to the track.

And so did the entire high school football team. And the cross-country team.

And I lost the excitement, hope and anticipation, and became self-conscious.

I've been resigned to the fact that I've gained some weight and my clothes aren't fitting so well. I just turned 39 a few days ago -- so I'm feeling older, too. Great combination. Put me out on a track, running slowly, for all these young kids to see me and I wanted to run out the gate.

But I didn't -- and I got the 3 intervals done. And my leg didn't hurt. And I got to breathe in the fresh air and appreciate the crisp temperatures.

And so, for the 12 minutes of running, while the entire football team and cross-country team watched, I was happy.