I’m slowly coming to accept that, as far as my health and physical well-being is concerned, it’s always going to be something. Make no mistake, I need to accept this. I think it would minimize any and all doomsday scenarios that have me mentally asking myself, “So, multiple hand written letters to everyone to be read after my death or one long video-taped posthumous message to be played at the funeral? Or should I have a wake?”

I don’t know if it’s a longing for kinship with my fellow man or out and out misanthropy that makes me feel better when I find out that a lot of people have had the same injury that I have (and many have had it much worse).

Now that I’m past the hand-wringing, never-run-again-phase and I’m on to the “So, tell me about your labral tear” phase. (I have also noticed that the words “labral tears” look very much like “liberal tears,” such has mean spirited social media speak embedded itself into my brain.) My friend’s sister had a labral tear and she had some helpful advice. My cousin has a bad knee for which she needs physical therapy. Both of her daughters needed it: the first for herniated discs, the second, a triathlete, for a – you guessed it – labral tear. With each story, I barely let it finish before asking, “But can you still run?” And the answer has usually been, “Yes, with physical therapy.” And recently I’ve been hearing, “I’m glad I didn’t get surgery.”

This is all my hypochondriac ears need to hear. (Speaking of which, I haven’t had my hearing checked in a while. I should do that.)

I do find PT to be an activity that’s taken a bit on faith. It’s mostly about doing odd looking motions while working with glorified rubber bands. I understand, first, that physical therapists know a lot more about muscles and the human body than I do. But, second, these exercises are meant to heal and build strength slowly, of course they’re going to be mild. I can’t imagine going in complaining of hip pain and hearing, “Alright, broseph, let’s nip this in the bud. Leg presses, 300 pounds. Feel the burn, bro. Push it until you’ve got nothing left.” So, I trust it. But I have to quiet the voice in the back of my head that’s saying, “Yeah, but what if, at the end of six weeks, nothing’s changed?”

On the plus side, I get to geek out on something again. I bought stuff off of Amazon (I know no one in New York wants to hear about Amazon or someone patronizing them right now) to do PT at home and in the gym so I don’t have to go into the clinic all the time. I’ll probably look up different exercises and stretches, get names of different places to go and people to see. All the while I’ll be wondering if I’m doing it right.

My volunteer shift for New York Road Runners is Saturday December 1st, after that I’ll be able to run the 2019 marathon. That’s the motivation. So, bring on the PT.