Welcome, June.

May was good.  I’m happy with May.  My return home from Mexico marked a new chapter… my fitness phase, or craze, or blaze (since we’ve had Mexico-like weather in Ontario).  I sweat profusely at workouts.  But Sarah doesn’t care.  Sarah Applegarth is my new trainer.  We’ve known each other for years.  She instructed my fitness testing when I was 13 years old.  I remember her telling me I wasn’t working hard enough because my face showed nothing.  (I’m an expert at wearing masks but this time I wished to be an open book.)  Her experience, confidence and attention to detail are going to be the perfect ingredients to ensure my return to snow.

So for the first time in months, I’m especially thankful for weekends.  May 24 was celebrated with Shona and her boyfriend, Andrew, from Canmore, Alberta.  We had a ball.  Quite literally.  At my family’s cottage in Red Bay, we played a par 10 to the pier and back.  Our skill sets in golf are directly related with our natural athletic abilities.  Actually, all of us in the picture went to the Olympics this year except for Andrew, my brother, Mitchell, and me.  While I’m speaking of the team, I’ll have you know a fellow Collingwoodite has taken the job as my assistant coach.  Blog readers, meet Dave White.  Over a game of golf, we had a chance to share.  I shared my double-bogey golf, and he shared his brain.  I look forward to reaping the benefits of his experience, insight and, well, brilliance.

So after Shona and Andrew left, I had a follow-up with Dr. Litchfield (my surgeon) to discuss my fitness testing results and most recent surgery.  Through a series of exercises monitored by a computer, it was determined that my left quad is 40% weaker than my right.  The hamstring is just 15% weaker but fatigued after one repetition.  I like numbers.  And I like muscles.  So, I think this is going to work out.  I’m going to work out, I mean.  With regards to my hospital visit in mid-April, I had a manipulation.  For medically weathered eyes, you can see the type of procedure that gave me 30 degrees further flexion in a matter of minutes by clicking here.

On Friday, I was fit for a custom knee brace.  I was very opposed to wearing a brace in the beginning.  I didn’t want anything acting on my knee’s behalf.  But I’m over it.  My knee has been so cooperative through everything and I think it might like something to hold its hand once in a while.  This injury has built an addition on my original foundation of independence... but I wouldn't want anything that blocks the view.  This knee brace is a form of help for my knee in the same way laughter is for my heart or ice cream is for my soul.  Did I say ice cream?  I meant Mississippi mud pie.  Nonetheless, consider my pride swallowed. 

Happy June.