Yesterday morning I went for a run.
Seems fairly innocuous in a blogosphere full of runners, but it was my first run in 3 weeks, since my ill-fated and ill-advised first run after my marathon. 2.3 glorious miles. We may chase the runner's high as we cross into the mental/physical test of the latter parts of our long runs, but I found that runner's high the moment I stepped out of my front door. I've never bought into someone telling me what I can't do, and it's even more frustrating/motivating when that someone is my own body. Every step and every moment was a constant inventory of how my knee felt, but despite the concentration I ran the entire way with a smile on my face. No worrying about pace, splits, hydration, etc. - just a hope for little to no pain, and the joy of one foot in front of the other while the sun rose on a cool morning.
Overall it felt pretty good. My knee definitely doesn't feel normal or healthy, but it didn't hurt like it did the first time I tried running after the race, and it didn't hurt going down the stairs this morning. I want to get through about 5 every-other-day runs before I'm willing to declare myself as back in action, but for now I'll just keep on smiling (and stretching, lifting, rolling, etc.).