At my last appointment I told the PA that I was a runner. We were talking about how I felt and how much I could do and when. The running threw her, possibly because she had just written down my weight and looked at my blood pressure. Both of which say more about my love for donuts rather than endorphins. She told me that I still had more swelling than they’d like and that I wasn’t quite ready. That I needed to focus on walking, Netflix and slowly building myself back up. To ask her again after I could make it through the day without a nap and go grocery shopping without breaking into a cold sweat. She started to give me a textbook lecture on listening to my body, going slow and not overdoing it. Clearly I wasn’t paying attention or she remembered that I was the girl who kicked the walker away in ICU and that maybe she’d have to give me some clearer boundaries. She told me to get to where I can easily and comfortably walk a 5K. Then I could start jogging. Slowly. Then get to wher...