I was offered a cold Coke at the end of a half here in Atlanta. Not what I would have wanted, but I was thirsty and took it. OMG, it was just the thing. So put me in the camp of pleasantly surprised at a soft drink at the end of a race. That said, covid ruined the taste of soft drinks for me, so I went cold-turkey a little over three years ago. Health-wise not a bad thing, but there are times when I miss a cold Cherry Coke.
Recovery update: my discharge papers say that my leg is load-bearing per pain tolerance, and it is load bearing to a surprising degree. I'm already walking around the house without the crutches, albeit very carefully. The DW and I are headed to a local fall festival where I will be making use of the knee
scooter, but it's nice to be semi-ambulatory already. As for the pain, I took the good stuff the night I came home, but since then it has been just Tylenol, much to my great surprise. (Yeah, a lot of surprise in this post....)
A couple of side notes: I have to wear compression socks for two weeks to prevent clots. Knee-high, white support hose. Gads. The DW's teen son asked if I was making a fashion statement. As if! But I did remember that I have black compression sleeves for races, and will be wearing them to go out and about today. Still not my first preference, but better style than the medical-issue ones.
I had co-workers ask me how I had been hobbling around before the MRI came in, and told them that the doc said, "Your quads". So now they are calling me Quadzilla. As a Braves fan, I'll take that reference. IYKYK.