Several months had passed. Mornings began to feel cool and crisp as they do each fall. I dreamed of the day I’d be able to jog again through my local neighborhood, and rebuild the muscles in my legs that were slowly dwindling. Most nights my girlfriend and I would take long walks through gorgeous old neighborhoods hoping to restore some of the lost strength in my legs. At this time I finished my therapy and was on my own, stretching daily, and exercising when I could – striving to keep my range of motion in tact. Mostly I would use a stationery bike and even just walk on the treadmills for awhile each day to get things warmed up before working on a mild strength routine. On the outside it seemed as if nothing was wrong. I went about each day the same as the last, no one the wiser. But deep down, the frustration was eating away at my insides. Each day with no forward progress kept me worrying and wondering if I’d ever make it back to my healthy old self. Most days sitting at my desk during the workday wasn’t a problem. No pain at all. However, exercising was a different story. As soon as I’d try for one squat or a single leg curl, my knees would give. The pain in my joints was so harsh I couldn’t even attempt at working the muscle. I wanted to run. I wanted to lift. But it just wasn’t happening.

Fortunately during such a difficult time I had someone special in my life. Someone who took my every need as the highest priority and felt my pain. She was and is my restful tranquility each day. And little did she know that during this time I had been planning something special. I proposed that fall and she said yes! So how could I even think about pain? This was the best time of my life so far.