Because of my foot surgery, I must stay reclined with my right foot elevated.

Because of my history of blood clots, I must keep moving.  Like a shark.

Ahh, but my dogs have needs, so I am up and down, letting them in and out.

And I have needs.  I am an older guy, like Joe Theisman, so I make frequent visits to the “water closet.”

But apparently I am not like Mrs. Joan Benoit Samuelson.

I was reminded of this by my podiatric surgeon at my first post-surgical evaluation.

Working on my book, When Running Was Young & So Were We, I came across a piece I had written about Joanie in the fall of 1982.

And I quote:  “It was time to go under the knife again last December, both Achilles needing repair.

Only two days later, wearing walking casts on each leg, there was Joan Benoit on a stationary exercise bicycle, pumping away, her thoughts already focused on a defense of her Falmouth title.

“Biking nowhere for 30-45 minutes daily ‘against good resistance,’ she added arduous interval sessions to maintain her aerobic conditioning.

‘Actually,’ she notes, ‘my fitness level increased when I wasn’t running.’”

I read aloud that same passage to my doctor, who, despite knowing something about Joan, frankly seemed unmoved.

“How old was she?,” he asked. 

Um, 25.

He studied my toes, which look like somebody stuck them deep into an electric garbage disposal.

“And how old are you?” 

Uh, 66.

Right.  Pause here, as he admiringly studied my foot.

“I am guessing she didn’t tell her doctor… and you are not Joan Benoit.”

I finally figured out I need to have a lift under my left foot to balance the height of the boot on my right foot.

When I complained of pain in my left calf, the nurse said that such pain was common.

“Then it moves to the knee and then the hip,” she continued.

I don’t think so.  I may be crazy but I am not stupid.

Sad that other folks can’t figure that out.

The leg pain, I mean.

I have surrendered to the recovery, but I am fighting to retain my fitness.

I have continued with my recliner tai chi.

I am doing a couple hundred stomach crunches

And I have developed a weight workout.

I am lifting a total of five tons of dumbells daily.

Geezer fitness can be fascinating in its own way.

Working on my abs, I ponder the mesh holding my tummy together.

Lifting the weights, I monitor the clicking of my arthritic shoulder.

Better to wear out than to rust.

I feel like a barroom brawler, doing a two-month bit in the County jail.

Actually started marking off each day with an X on the calendar.

Doctor says I should be able to get on my own spin bike in six or seven weeks.

I say maybe this afternoon.

I want to feel like Joan Benoit.