Lippy Stuff

About two months ago I started experiencing pain in my right knee during my runs. Like any good runner I ignored it until my body would no longer let me...2.5 miles into a 5 mile loop along Venice Beach. That was a long walk back.

As soon as I got back home to Austin I sought out a physical therapist, vowing to nip this in the bud and get back out on the road ASAP. Except that hasn't happened. I haven't been able to run more than a mile since that last run in early December, and 3 weeks ago I stopped running all together after my physical therapist gave me the stink eye and told me to CUT IT OUT. "Fine", I said. "But I can ride my bike, right?" "Sure", he said. "That's excellent. Except no hills. Stay in your saddle, nothing too crazy." Roger.

I have been obeying orders like I'm in the military. No running, riding flats when the weather is nice. Matt even found me a trainer on Craigslist so I can ride inside during crappy weather. But there is nothing like being outside on the road on a beautiful day, and I have found that I like riding on the trainer about as much as I like running on a treadmill. It is le boring.

Yesterday I met up with a riding buddy and we had an excellent ride. It was a beautiful day, not too windy, and god did it feel good to get outside and soak up the sun. I maaaaay have done some small hills, but nothing that required me to get out of the saddle (see, still obeying orders). I will admit that after the ride my knee felt weird (weak, like it was going to give out). No pain, no swelling, just weird. But I pushed it out of my mind because I NEED this one thing to be OK for me to do.

Today, as I confessed my ride and shared how my knee was feeling, my physical therapist uttered the horrible O word again...orthopedist. As in a surgeon, for evaluation. No. No no no no no. I've done this before. I have literally been in this exact same place before. And not literally in the non-literal way people use the word. I have LITERALLY lived out these same events before. I have taken physical therapy for knee issues. I have had the therapist tell me it's not working. I have been referred to an orthopedist. And I have had knee surgery (last time on both knees). I don't want to do it again. There is no guarantee I will have to have surgery again, but based on my latest MRI and my current symptoms it is clear my current issues are related to my previous issues (medial meniscus problems for you medical types). BLARG. That's all I have to say to that.

I am discouraged, defeated. I know there are way more horrible things happening to people out there, but this is happening to me now and it sucks. I've honestly been putting off his referral to the orthopedist for a couple of weeks. I finally took the time to sit down with my MRI results and the computer to decipher it into words that make sense to me and I could no longer deny the fact that this is real. I'm not making this up, not being a wuss. There is really something wrong with my knee and I'm going to have to address it if I want to get back out there.

When I had surgery in high school it was the cool thing to do; everybody was doing it. You were like, a hard core athlete, dude. Now the thought of it just makes me feel old. With any luck I'll be able to avoid going under the knife. Either way I know it's going to mean down time from any kind of hard core exercise for a while. Anyone who knows me knows that's not going to be an easy thing for me to do. If you're looking for me, you'll find me on my trainer while I watch episodes of Firefly to keep me entertained.

This is my favorite picture of our entire wedding because, even though we're looking right at the camera, neither of us have any memory of it being taken and it completely captures us in this moment. We're married! I can honestly say I am just as happy to be married to this man as I was in that moment. Maybe even more so.

Happy Anniversary, Husband. I love you!

This is where we kissed, shortly after one of the groomsmen paused the ceremony and pulled out that stool for me to stand on. I have to confess the stool was designed to serve two purposes: 1) to add a little bit of humor, something very 'us' to the ceremony, and 2) to prevent our wedding kiss pictures from looking like something resembling a giraffe bending down to consume its dinner. Clearly, by the look on the pastor's face, we achieved #1, and no giraffes here, so mission accomplished!

The pictures I posted yesterday were taken about 1.5 hours before the ceremony started. We did not do the preview meeting before the ceremony. Under no circumstances was Matt to see me before the wedding. Period. So, after we took our bridal party pictures (separately, of course) I went back to the bridal sweet and changed back out of my dress for the long, LONG wait until the ceremony started.

That's when I started to freak out, because I realized that I was going to have to walk out there in front of all those people. And all of those people were going to stand up, turn around and look at me. ALL AT ONCE. The more I thought about this the more freaked out I became, which apparently became pretty evident on my face because at one point my mom looked at me, very concerned, and asked if I needed a glass of wine.

YES.

Finally the terrifying moment came, the doors opened and I stared down what seemed like a mile long walk to the altar, filled with the curious eyes of friends, family and strangers. Whoa. Like, Keanu Reeves WHOA. It was just a bit overwhelming. But as soon as I got to the front and stood there with Matt, everyone else faded away. I knew it was all going to be OK, and not just the ceremony, but everything. This is that moment:

The pictures I posted yesterday were taken about 1.5 hours before the ceremony started. We did not do the preview meeting before the ceremony. Under no circumstances was Matt to see me before the wedding. Period. So, after we took our bridal party pictures (separately, of course) I went back to the bridal sweet and changed back out of my dress for the long, LONG wait until the ceremony started.

That's when I started to freak out, because I realized that I was going to have to walk out there in front of all those people. And all of those people were going to stand up, turn around and look at me. ALL AT ONCE. The more I thought about this the more freaked out I became, which apparently became pretty evident on my face because at one point my mom looked at me, very concerned, and asked if I needed a glass of wine.

YES.

Finally the terrifying moment came, the doors opened and I stared down what seemed like a mile long walk to the altar, filled with the curious eyes of friends, family and strangers. Whoa. It was just a bit overwhelming. But as soon as I got to the front and stood there with Matt, everyone else faded away. I knew it was all going to be OK, and not just the ceremony, but everything. This is that moment:

Friday marks 5 years of marriage to that tall dude mentioned to the right. I love him. Oh, do I love him. To mark this impending milestone I'm posting a picture a day leading up to us being married and my favorite of all our wedding pics. Today it will actually be two pictures...one of each of us looking our best, waiting for the ceremony to start so we can be married already!

Before you read this story it's important to note that my friend, Elana, is completely responsible for all of it. It is all her fault. She recently introduced me to Sass Calamata Feta salad dressing. It was so delicious I immediately ran to the store and bought myself a bottle. I have since been unable to stop eating it. I think I've eaten a salad every day since then, not so much because I'm trying to be healthy but more because it serves as a conduit through which to consume copious amounts of this dressing. I may or may not have considered drinking it.

Last week, through a series of events that are too ridiculous to bother explaining, I left my bottle of salad dressing at her house. I stopped by to pick it up a couple of days later, happy to be reunited with my precious, er, the salad dressing. Last night Elana and her husband came over for dinner, and for part of that dinner we served salad. Except when I opened the refrigerator to pull out the dressing, it wasn't there. Both Elana and I scoured the fridge for the bottle, but it was nowhere to be found. And it is still missing. I have turned the kitchen upside down looking for it, but alas it has disappeared.

I finally gave up the search and decided to buy a new bottle so I could resume my salad binge. I happily trotted over to the produce section to grab my bottle of deliciousness only to find that they were out. Completely out. Oh sure, they had plenty of Blue Cheese and Creamy Ceasar, but no Calamata Feta. GAAAAAHHHHH!!!

I pretty much felt like this guy: