8 and a 1/2 weeks

Well, I'm at that tricky 8 and a 1/2 week mark. Well, actually, it's not tricky at all, just flippin boring. The knee is getting stronger all the time - and I've even started some light jogging (more like shuffling, but beggars - or a least people recovering from knee injuries - can't be choosers, I find), swimming and cycling. You see? The fun never stops when you've got a dodgy knee.

I went to my first physio gym class this morning, too. It's fun, man. Basically, about 16 palpably unfit people with 'lower limb' injuries, puff and wheeze their way around an assortment of exercises and stretches, all to a selection of mega hits CDs that always include 'Don't Stop Moving' by S Club 7. It's kind of like circuits for beginners, dude.

You do knee weight stretches, hamstring catches (it feels like my life is one long hamstring catch at the moment), jogging around cones, jumping over a skipping rope (woo hoo!), hopping on a trampet (which isn't actually a trumpet for tramps, alas), balancing on a wobble board, cycling on an ancient exercise bike, walking up and down some fake steps and, my least favourite, a totally pointless wobble-board-esque maze game, where you have to wiggle your feet to get a little red ball into the middle of a blue plastic maze, and out again (see pic).

Still, it's good for the knee, and that's what counts. I actually feel more confident at the moment than I thought I would. I still haven't got the full range of movement back (I do these pull-your-foot-to-your-bum quad stretches and I can't quite touch my bum but it's coming - I can feel it), but I'm running a bit, hopping and jumping around, and all in all what more could I ask for? Apart from turning out for the Street and banging in my first goal for the club, of course.

Incidentally, I've had some freakishly vivid dreams about doing just that. The dream goes something like this: Street are desperate for players, I turn up late to watch but get convinced to make an early come back. The results vary: either my knee collapses within 30 seconds, or I play a blinder at the back, jumping and diving (and fouling, of course) and we scrape a 1-0 win.

Last night's dream involved a Union Street trip to Argentina, where I was one of the designated drivers. We went to the town of 100 churches (does one even exist? I'd like to know), which was called Kirchen, naturally enough. Very Argentinian name, I thought. What could it all mean?