I used to take three or four ibuprofen pills before I ran.

But now I know my body – and mind – better after two knee surgeries.

While I’d like my knee to not look like it belonged to Frankenstein, my surgeries brought me to yoga. 

I’m no yogi. In the year or so I’ve been practicing, I’ve gained more self-acceptance and learned mindfulness and patience make me a happier person.

I wish I had a braver, more endorphin-filled story to tell you about how I tore my ACL and cartilage. Get your giggles out now:  I had a bad landing on a trampoline – at 21 years old. There were no back flips or Matrix-worthy gymnastics.

My knee

I had my ACL reconstruction and cartilage repair in June 2005, only to be back on the operating table in November when I had 40 percent of my medial-side cartilage removed from the same knee after it tore again.

Now I have a barometer knee (yes, it’s true!): I know when it’s going to rain, how stressed out I am and whether I’ve exercised lately. (This is more useful than my curly barometer hair, which only accounts for humidity.)

My knee reminds me, usually in a stiff or painful way, when I need to slow down and take care of myself. It reminds me that I’m a strong and resilient person. It forces me to act instead of ignore.

Before yoga, I looked at my leg as an ugly, scarred up appendage that should’ve worked right after $20,000 worth of surgery and countless leg lifts.

Between surgeries one and two, I was working long hours at a stressful job and was stressed out that I couldn’t pound the pavement to de-stress. Frustrated, I ended up trying a beginner’s yoga class in Tallahassee.

Suzanne, the teacher, told us in her soothing voice, “You’re right where you need to be.”

Many of us are used to living in a world of competition – berating ourselves for not being better when all we need is patience and time to grow so we can improve.

I kept going to yoga.

“It’s about progress, not perfection,” another yoga teacher told me.

One class at a time, I had learned patience on my mat. That translated into having patience in the rest of my life: Controlling what I can, and letting go of what I can’t.

So, readers, I want to share my yoga adventures and spiritual epiphanies with you, and I want to hear yours, too.

In the meantime, namaste.