Bodies break. Bodies heal.

“I would say, 2-to-3,” she said, giving my leg another once-over.

“Months?” I squeaked out, imaging another 8 weeks like the last, resigned to physical therapy sessions every Wednesday and longingly looking out at the bike-path throughout the remainder of spring semester.

“Oh no, weeks! I’d say you could be running in 2-to-3 weeks.”

Relief splattered over me like paint on walls, like ash falling from the walls of a volcano. I almost collapsed from the sheer confidence in that positive projection, ringing merrily in my ears like Christmas bells.

I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until I exhaled a huge sigh of grief, of pain, and of forgiveness.

“I’d take just being able to walk a mile in 2-to-3 weeks!” I exclaimed, clearly overwhelmed.

Bodies stumble. Bodies break. But bodies heal their own selves and cells to make it right again.

They say that some rapidly producing human body cells spend a total of 24 hours intermixed in the cell cycle (which in itself is simply complex, or complicatedly simple depending on how well you remember the phases of mitosis from high school biology).

Then they divide, and the cycle starts all over again.

My body is finally bending and accepting, building anew and starting over again (and again). My body is on the mend.