Two weeks ago I hurt myself.

 

One week ago I knew it was getting serious when I could no longer walk, sit or stand without immense pain.

 

Five days ago I sat in a surgeon's office waiting for her to lower the boom on the bad news I knew was coming.

 

Four days ago I was stretched out on my couch in constant pain, wondering if it would ever subside and how long it would be until I would run again.

 

Three days ago I substitute-taught an 11-year old Sunday School class at church. The topic? Miracles. Towards the latter end of class I was asked, "do miracles happen today?" I answered in the affirmative, as I have experienced and been a part of numerous events in my life that can only be classified as such (case in point: I'm alive after an unfortunate encounter with the wheels of a moving car at age 18 months). Then I spent the rest of the day in bed, still in too much pain to move around the house.

 

One day ago I ran for the first time in a week, not knowing how I'd feel during or after. I finished seven mostly low-pain miles but was still a little nervous about the next morning.

 

Today I woke up pain free. There's still a tender muscle or two in my lower abdomen and groin area, but the pain is gone.

 

Miracle? I say yes.

 

Back to training. I've got work to do.