Last walk

I found myself at Adventure Cycling around 6 p.m., gearing up for what I dubbed the “Last Walk” – a whimsical pre-surgery send-off for a friend about to brave knee surgery the following day. Originally, we had grand visions of a cinematic evening, complete with pizza, beer, and the obligatory ice cream chaser. But, as fate would have it, every master plan must face its trials. Our movie dreams were dashed, courtesy of my friend’s sluggish ACL-less saunter. But hey, no biggie.

Most of our evening was engulfed in the great debate of where to munch, but eventually, “da Bridge” claimed victory. As we settled into our seats, reminiscing ensued. I was catapulted back to the halcyon days of plotting grand escapades, possibly including a night in a secluded cabin, our smiles frosted with the remnants of clandestine beer runs.

Now, the eve of the surgery stands before us, marking the end of mobility for my compatriot, yet symbolizing so much more. It’s akin to reaching the peak of the week, a peculiar sort of hump day. Tomorrow, the journey of healing commences following the mend of what’s broken. It’s a bittersweet symphony of anticipation and nostalgia, as we brace for what’s ahead.