We moved into our current house three years ago last December. The custody battle was gearing up, my son was close to blowing his way out of the house, and my knees completely conked out.
A jogger for 30 years, I worried this day would come, the day when I would no longer be able to get that rush of endorphins, that half hour to clear my head, that satisfaction I felt during my cool-down walk up the stairs to my house, sweat running down my body.
My right knee, in particular, was a mess. Bending it was excruciating. I groaned every time I stood up, hobbled down the stairs white-knuckling the bannister.
I’d had friends with torn miniscuses and I figured that’s what I’d done. With the custody battle in full steam, I had no mental energy or extra cash for MRIs, surgery, and physical therapy.
So I rode the exercise bike, tried to “bring it” with Tony Horton.
But nothing gave me the jolt that jogging did. I resigned myself to feeling old and creaky.
And then, suddenly my knee stopped creaking. After a year-and-a-half of jogging abstinence, my miniscus apparently healed itself. I started jogging a few times a week several months ago, just 20 or 30 minutes through my neighborhood.
My energy returned. I started sleeping through the night more often than not. The grass looked greener, the sun looked sunnier.
Is it a coincidence that my knee miraculously repaired itself once my relationship with my son was on the mend, and my relationship with my ex began to recede? A quick Google Search uncovered the signficance of right knee ailments. I’m a little dubious about the Louise Hay brand of thinking, but this stopped me in my tracks:
Today, what I’m thankful for is my right knee — and all that it represents.
What are you thankful for today?
Have you had any spontaneous healing in your life?