Today I received a warning that I should stop taking this recovery process for granted and learn to take it easy.
I awoke to my seventh successive day of weight loss, but this time it was only 100g, a sign that a plateau is probably on the way. But I'm OK with that.
The knee felt and looked great so I nipped out on the mtb again. I intended to do 30 minutes but I misjudged my route and it ended up being 45 minutes. I took it easy, though, and choose basically flat roads for the whole journey. And so I returned home with a still pain-free and unswollen joint. Just 11 days in from the op I was so blasé I didn't even bother icing.
Then I went to the supermarket, followed by two hours preparing food for some friends who were coming round for a lazy public holiday lunch. No worries, the leg was pure gold … until I felt a bit of a twinge in exactly the old spot. I rolled by compression brace down to reveal my knee was swollen. Damn! It wasn't giant like a ball, but it was puffy enough to know straight away I had boobed.
I still had to finish up the food prep, which took another 20 minutes, but then it was back on the couch with the the big ice pack wrapped around my knee, and I swallowed an Arcoxia.
It's all good. It hasn't got any bigger as I've been icing on and off all day and trying to keep off my feet as much as possible. And I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow with the swelling gone again. But it's been a good lesson, a reminder that I had surgery just 11 days ago, and that I can't push it too much, no matter how good it feels.