Yesterday I was scheduled to have lunch with a friend at a little soup and bread cafe about three miles from my house.¬† I was busy throughout the morning, scurrying around to get work and laundry done, cramming in bits of writing here and there between phone calls, wondering how I would get my run in. I’m not training for anything specific, so four miles would do the trick, but when…?

It dawned on me that I could RUN to meet my friend and have her drive me home after lunch (as I said, I was swamped, or I might have decided to run back home too). I mean, I’ve got two good, functional legs; there isn’t any reason they can’t be my transportation from here to there! So that’s what I did.

I took the long way to add on an extra mile and I met my friend at 1pm for soup. As I jogged along, I thought about my dear grandmother. She’s having surgery today to replace a hip that is nothing but bone on bone. For months I’ve watched her labor and moan as she stands up, watched her propel herself forward with her walker by sheer force of will. And more than once I’ve put my palms on my own hips and thanked them for working properly–for now.

I’m not sure how I’ll manage to re-work my identity if and when there comes a day that one or more of my joints give out. It’ll be hard. For now, I want to remember to tell my body how much I appreciate the fact that it’s doing what I ask it to do. It’s not perfect (e.g., muffin top, dangling skin on arms, etc.), but it does everything I need it to do and I because of that, I try never to criticize it.

If you think of it, send my gram good wishes today at 10am. We’re hoping this new hip will get her back to bargain hunting in second hand stores.

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