What it feels like

It feels like a stab wound right at the top of my buttock cleft. A clean, deep stab wound.

I can walk, but once I move my hips, I'm done. I could probably jog a step or two, but I'd either rip the wound or, which would probably hurt worse, sweat into the wound cavity, causing me such pain that I would keel over.

It's weird not being to move well. Every trip I take anywhere in my place is more deliberate now. No wasted motion, no extra effort. It's exactly the opposite of how I usually am. I feel like I'm handcuffed, but I know my hands and arms work just fine.

More maybe I feel more like a puppet that doesn't know he's a puppet. I think that I'm control, but I'm really not and the pain is just the master's way of showing me that I'm powerless. This could be the drugs talking.

The worst part is the isolation. I feel quarantined. I'm in constant contact through the internet, but I feel disconnected. It's humbling and scary. I appreciate people more now.

I will never, ever take bring able to run for granted again. I have four months to prepare for a half marathon. I'm going to love it.