At some point on Thursday, Denny Hamlin will be wheeled into a post-op recovery room greeted by a smiling physical therapist and asked to complete a seemingly simple task.

"Sit on this table with your leg straight out ... now ... lift it," the therapist will request. Tears may immediately follow. They did for me when I had to do it.

It was that moment after my ACL reconstructive surgery in 1997 that I knew the road to recovery was going to be a long, painful and emotional one.

I had been active in sports my entire life, and basketball was my release. I had flown all night from a California race, drove directly to the YMCA to play a pick-up game and less than 10 minutes later, lay on the floor screaming at a completely torn anterior cruciate ligament.

In the recovery room after my surgery, I informed the nurse that I did not want the morphine being offered. I wanted to know the extent of the pain. Before midnight, I woke up in a cold sweat and demanded to know who the hell allowed a bus load of transients to barge in my room and start stabbing me in the knee with ice picks. It is still the most intense, excruciating pain I have ever felt, the kind of pain that flashes through my mind when I make a quick cut on my right leg even today.

Denny has proven to be one of the coolest dudes in the garage, overflowing with confidence, talent, and the desire to enjoy his one shot at life. Now he's about to prove he's one of the toughest cats in the alley, too.

This surgery is no joke my friends. Nor is the rehab that follows.

Denny and I have been talking about my experiences with the surgery since Daytona. He was curious about how long before everything: walking, running, basketball, confidence in your step, and how much it restricted me from doing my job.

I told him, "I'm a front office guy, I can throw my leg up on the desk and keep digging. I missed three days. You're a professional athlete."

In Las Vegas he told me that he was considering surgery after Martinsville. I knew his mind was made up to get it done, grit his teeth, deal with the pain and start the process of getting back to full strength. All I said was treat rehab like your job and your favorite hobby all at once because it is the most important part of the entire process.

Tenacious D will attack his recovery with the intensity of a pit bull.

It took me weeks to get my knee to bend at a 45 degree angle, and another six months to run with confidence -- that was with a knee brace that looked like something Dan Marino wore during his final NFL season.

To his benefit, Denny has conditioned himself the past couple of years like a professional athlete and that will aid in a quicker recovery. Plus, he's young, motivated and associated with the best physicians in the United States.

But words cannot express the level of dedication and mental toughness that Denny must have to run 400 miles in Phoenix just 10 days after that surgery. No matter how this early season drama plays out, the man deserves an award for the effort.

I'm just glad he waited until after Martinsville. Otherwise the NASCAR nation would have been robbed of two of the most exciting laps of racing our sport has seen in its storied history.

Cheers to a speedy recovery, my friend.

Ty Norris is vice president and general manager of Michael Waltrip Racing. He has worked within the NASCAR industry with MWR, Speedway Motorsports Inc., Dale Earnhardt Inc. and RJ Reynolds since 1990. He will share his opinions each Thursday on NASCAR.COM.

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• Hamlin's left knee surgery to repair ACL a success