You say Potato, I say Potahto. You say foolish, I say I needed it.

I had my hernia surgery 12 days ago.

Yesterday, at day 11, I went for a bike ride.

And I did the really foolish thing and posted it to Facebook.  I think my posting that to Facebook was more foolish than the ride itself.

Yeesh.

Sunday night, Christmas, I was in so much pain.  From laughter.  I was laughing harder than I've laughed in a long time.  Long time.  I never realized how much of your stomach you use to laugh til that night.  I was crying from laughter but also from the pain it was causing.  My BIL was killing me.  At least it felt that way.  The laughter felt great but my insides...oh my insides.

The next day Megan and I were to do the crazy shop after Christmas deal.  The way I was feeling Sunday when they left I wasn't sure I was going to be up for it.  But, I took a coupla Tylenol PMs and got a good 5 hours of sleep.  (stupid Hunger Games book kept me reading til early morning) And I felt amazing.  We shopped all day, walking all over the place and I couldn't believe how I felt.  Almost like new.  I told Josh I wanted to go for a bike ride the next day on his lunch break.  He checked my bike over, aired my tires.

Tuesday I woke up and felt awesome again.  He called me around 11 asking if I was still in the mood for my ride.  It was warm outside, and even though I'd been doing some housework, my tummy and back felt fine.

I told him I was going to go for the ride.

In my head I had planned about a 15 mile ride.  I figured that'd be about as far as I could go in the amount of time I had.  Normally 15 miles wouldn't take me an hour but it's been a month since I've ridden and I was 11 days post-surgery.  I thought it was a good plan.

I always start out too fast.  Always.

Yesterday was no different.  I was cruising my road at 18 mph, feeling great.  And then I hit a wall just a couple miles in.  I turned back much sooner than I planned.  I could tell my body wasn't too thrilled with me.  While I felt great in my legs, arms and chest, my stomach was hurting.

At 5.5 miles and just one mile from home I very nearly called Josh to come get me.  But I knew I had another mile left in me.  I was in a lot of pain when I walked in the door.  Josh had to take my shoes off me because I couldn't bend over to do it.  He helped me out of my jersey and got me a glass of water with some Ibuprofen.

I rested for a couple of hours and then resumed my daily household activities of dinner, dishes, family.

While a bike ride 11 days post-surgery may seem foolish, it was what I needed.  I needed that fresh air.  I needed to prove to myself that I'm still strong enough to get on my bike, that I'm not going to let these random, freakish, ridiculous ailments get me down.  Not only physically but emotionally.

I'm tired of sitting.  Tired of being waited on.  That's not how I roll.

I wondered how I'd feel today, if I'd be regretting what I did.  I don't.  Not even a little.  I woke up this morning feeling refreshed, renewed.  I won't get on my bike today.

But soon.  Very, very soon.