Knee Replacement: One.Year.On.

If I was a woman with money to burn, I swear I would have hired Samuel L. Jackson to help me commemorate this day. No one swears like he does. No one uses my favorite curse word—a word I rarely utter—like he does. When Samuel L. Jackson delivers a line with that word in it, I don't cringe. I don't want to turn to a different channel. I don't think about the long lost virginity of my ears. I just smile. If I had money, I would have made a video of Samuel L. Jackson sporting a Kango hat, holding my before and after x-rays in his hands and bellowing as loudly as possible, "One motherfuckin' year later!!"

Complaints? None.

Scar? Ugly. Gnarly. Seven inches long.

Attitude? Better than ever.

One year later. My level of fatigue is higher than it should be. Why? Because I've been surfing my (Samuel L. Jackson word here) ass off! These days, I surf as much as I can as often as I can. I surfed almost all of last week, so much so that I was forced to take a break on Sunday. I was so physically spent that I had the shakes, the shakes that are the telltale sign of someone bonking, most of the day. I took a breather and ate often. Then, on Monday, some friends and I rolled out of L.A. at 5:30 a.m., heading down to San O. Prior to the session, I ate a banana. That was it. I can't surf with food in my stomach. I was in the water for three hours! While my friends took breaks to fuel up or rest, I did not. When given the opportunity to surf without time constraints, I surf until I can surf no longer. Only then will I get out of the water. I kind of staggered out after the third hour, ate a little something and decided I was truly done. The tank was empty. No more surfing for awhile.

Fail!!

I paddled out today if for no other reason than to celebrate the anniversary of my knee. The weather cooperated long enough to allow for a two hour session. Now I can take a break—meaning I'll do something other than surfing in order to let my shoulders and back recover.

I know I will eventually get to the point where I forget this joint is fake. I'm almost there, but not quite yet. There is still some pain, albeit minor. I still worry about doing something that will damage the prosthesis (said the woman with the skateboard ramp in her backyard). Nevertheless, I haven't held myself back in the least. I'm doing more than I ever thought possible prior to surgery. If where I am now is as good as it gets (and I hear it does get even better after a few more years), I'm quite content.