I put on my running shoes this weekend to go walk the Race for the Cure (save the boobs!). I tried to describe the feeling of putting on my toe socks and feeling my feet in my shoes for the first time in a while to my husband (a smile...a nervous twitch...a desire to go run) and he just didn't get it. I tried to think of an analogy that wasn't exercise-related, but didn't make it. My shoes were somewhat disappointed to just go walk for a few miles, but hey, sticking with the program.

I still hurt. I'm not so sure about a half marathon at the end of November anymore. I'm not holding my breath, but I'm not ruling it out either. I want to come back right, so I'm not just falling back into old injured patterns.

My PT is going well. Added some more exercises this week, removed others, and my right side is really improving. Amusingly/frustratingly, so is my left. I will have buns of steel before this is over. I have been swimming and doing yoga along with the bike, but was sick last week so I had to cut down to one swim session and no cycling. I traveled yesterday so I did some yoga today, along with my regular exercises. I guess this week we're going to switch stuff up, we'll see. Next appointment is on Friday.

I had an amusing "what am I capable of" relativity moment during last week's PT. We were doing squats, trying to encourage my glutes to participate more in this process. My squat form is pretty good as it is, so I guess we add some weights. PT walks to the wall where the hand weights are. No, not the 1 lb weights. No, not the 2, 3, or 4. Yeah, the 8 lb weights. In both hands. I guess she wasn't kidding when she said I don't have a strength problem. I hope to kick some major butt when I can run again.