I'd rather wrestle a gator than go through hip surgery again but I do have one more to go. You can bet on this, I'll go kicking and screaming next time.

I'm recovering from the first of two wheel replacements and it's not a pretty picture. I have graduated from the walker to the cane and now can walk on my own.

So I immediately tried to assume my normal activity of going to the gym every morning. Little did I know that the wheels aren't turning like they once did. I realize I've slowed down but this is ridiculous.

I got on treadmill at the gym and I was going so slow the machine was failing to record a speed. It kept telling me "It's okay to walk now." There are glaciers somewhere in the world that are moving at a faster pace than I move. Still, I'm making the effort.

The first day at the gym produced a world record slow speed of a thirty minute mile. I can remember when I did three miles in thirty minutes on that same blasted machine and I weighed over three bills in those days. When I'd get on the scale in those days, the machine would say "One at a time please!"

"It's okay to walk now," kept ringing in my ears. Determined not to be insulted by a dadgum piece of exercise equipment, I was determined to do a faster mile the next day, recording an awe-inspiring but nevertheless mediocre 25 minute mile. I'm thinking, this is progress; keep at it slow poke.M

I move so slow these days that my ninety year old uncle, George Renard and his wife, Aunt Olga, both can outpace me. At this speed, I'm liable to get a parking ticket. The machine was making all kinds of sarcastic suggestions to me. "This machine doesn't rent by the month… get moving big boy!" I kept waiting for the Chariots of Fire theme song to kick in to add insult to my injury.

I'm now making snails look respectable, but I refuse to quit. I'm determined that speed isn't the issue but rather distance. At this pace, it'll take me three hours to watch 60 minutes on one of the 14 television units they have blasting away in my gym. I'm operating at about the same speed as that old 286 computer I bought back in the eighties.

I must resemble some of my fellow Floridians who decide to open it up to 45 miles per hour on I-4. It's a wonder these people don’t get run over by the guy cutting the median as they peek through the steering wheel to watch where to drive.

I find it's taking me a lot longer to get around Publix these days, but I still refuse to use that disability parking pass my wife, Christine, got for me. I used it once and when I got out of the car, a buddy of mine that I go to church with immediately began busting my chops about how long I was going to bleed this disability permit gig.

I also refuse to use the disability potty or sit in the disability chairs at the movie theater. A man can only take so much humiliation in his life and the machines at my gym are already dumping on my pride enough as it is… "It's okay to walk now…blah, blah, blah!"

Speed was never a characteristic for yours truly. Even when I had the occasion of playing fullback at Lexington High School way back when, my old coach and mentor, J. W. Ingram, used to accuse me of running in one place too long. "You're short but you're slow," quipped Whiney Ingram.

However, I had other attributes. For instance, I’'m the only player in his 33-year coaching career that he ever caught sound asleep standing up against the goal post. That takes some talent and coordination.

So life must go on when you have your hips replaced. It could be worse I suppose. Have fun and enjoy the ride… no matter how slow!