This time, Emmett McCall, you won’t change my mind.

In case you missed last week’s column, he’s the guy who got me to do something I thought I would never do: write about the cycling accident that fractured my left femur late in December. (No, dear reader, you are not experiencing deja vu. I fractured the right femur and wrote about it in 2009.)

But after completing the column, I knew what Emmett emailed was technically untrue.

No, Emmett, how quickly I was able to get back on the bike again and what I did while recovering did not make “a good column.” A single column didn’t provide enough detail.

Adding more detail turned the single column into two — and my original skepticism of Emmett’s idea into heartfelt gratitude.

Emmett McCall, I owe you one. Or should I say two?

So let’s pick up the story 10 days after I was discharged from the hospital with the PT learning about the workout I did on my own the day before, seeing the considerable swelling in my leg (but not the purple toes concealed by my slipper), and saying, “Don’t go too crazy.”

I never asked him for further explanation. I just created my own.

To me, going “crazy” meant rehabbing far more than suggested, but the “don’t” didn’t really mean “do not.” It simply signified that the “crazy” needed to be done a certain way.

“Crazy” increases blood flow, decreasing stiffness and improving mobility. It also, unfortunately, creates considerable swelling afterward. In my mind, “crazy” only officially becomes “too crazy” when the subsequent swelling isn’t abated and impedes further progress.

While this is not what the PT said, this is what I heard: “If you want to triple the suggested work out time, you better triple the time you spend elevating, icing, and massaging the leg.” Doing that mitigated the after-exercise swelling enough that moving around after supper and sleeping at night was not nearly as uncomfortable as before.

In fact, in just a few days, the extra elevating, icing, and massaging decreased the swelling enough that I could walk with a cane as easily five hours after exercise as I could five minutes afterwards.

On the 13 days I rehabbed with a PT for an hour, I would lift weights for 60 minutes beforehand not only to keep strength in the healthy parts of my body but also to force blood to flow throughout it, thereby accelerating the recovery process. Following PT, I would ride a stationary bike for at least 60 minutes, usually 75, and up to 90.

The manner in which I did this cycling changed as my strength and flexibility increased and the pain decreased.

At first, I couldn’t lift my left leg onto the pedal, so those first rides were purely one-legged affairs. Once I could get my left leg atop the pedal, I still couldn’t do the full motion, so after 45 minutes or so of one-legged pedaling, I’d do a partial motion with both — as much of a full pedal revolution as I could tolerate — for the remaining time.

On a few days when I felt especially motivated, I rehabbed for four hours. That was the case on Jan. 18 — 28 days after I broke my leg and the day I began the first of the two columns.

For the first two hours, I did the exercises the PT prescribed, but didn’t allow myself any real recovery time. As soon as I did a set of clamshells to strengthen the muscles cut to insert the metal rod, for instance, I would do some sort of modified ab or lower-back exercise, until the cut muscles recovered enough for another set of clamshells.

For the next 30 minutes after the PT-prescribed exercises, I lifted weights with my good leg.

After one set of one-legged squats using just my body weight, I did seven sets holding a 25- or 35-pound dumbbell and knocking out between 18 and 25 reps. After seven sets of one-legged leg extensions and five sets of one-legged calf raises, I mounted the stationary bicycle and turned on the television.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching Villanova beat Connecticut in a tightly contested game, so much so that the 85 minutes spent pedaling seemed like far less time.

Far less time: Sometime during the ambulance ride to the hospital, I decided that to recover in far less time than I did in 2009 would be the golden goal.

It motivated me to do far more than the typical amount of rehabilitation, drove me to be even stricter with my diet than usual, and enabled me to keep my leg encased in ice while my body shivered to the point where I couldn’t keep the novel I was reading steady.

Yet the best proof that my effort was well worth it isn’t that I missed “far less time” in school — 20 fewer days — than I did with the fracture before.

It’s that my golden goal supplied something absolutely essential to keep rehab interesting and motivating and meaningful.

Purpose.