WEATHER: Over 40! Sunny!
MILES: YOU GUYS! 2.5 MILES! YOU GUYS!
WHERE TO: A magical land of KICKASS!
MOOD: OMG! You guys! Guess what! You guys!
YOU GUYS. Today I ran 2.5 miles. Without pain! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO….
Why did I decide to run? Runner’s World forums, that’s why. I went on and asked the good fellow-injured runners about whether my doctor was a dumbass or not for telling me to run on a clicking knee. As it turns out, other people have gotten this advice before.
Upon reflection, maybe I’m the dumbass. Seasoned medical advice? No, thank you. Advice from a bunch of other yahoos who are probably also 50 kinds of pervy? Helllls yes! So. I tied on my running shoes and out the door I went.
Now, let’s not freak the hell out with joy yet, because I came home and iced and — graawwwrrr — there was indeed some hurt. But LESS, kids! And — strangely — it has migrated from the outer corner of my kneecap to the inner edge.
I’m just gonna take this as a sign of progress (right? RIGHT???). I think I have to, because I’m starting to lose touch with reality in a very small but very real way. My brain has been living in my left knee for the last month; every time I sit or stand or go down stairs or go up stairs, all I can do is tune every sense to this one stupid joint and think, “Is it popping? Yes? No? Whoa! Wait! Stop! Did we feel something there? No?”
People wouldn’t know it to look at me, but at any given moment, I’m internally either celebrating a successful stand-up or mourning the teeniest imagined twinge from hopping off of a curb. So today I tried a new experiment — I spent an hour today running errands and imagining that my right knee was the hurt one, and just focused on that. And suddenly I realized that I could totally mentally fabricate these little aches and stings — IS MY RIGHT KNEE POPPING OUT? HOLY FUCK! SIT DOWN!
Which is encouraging — maybe I’m more healed than I thought! — or upsetting — maybe I’m a running-injury-hypochondriac! — depending on how you look at it.
Anyhow, at least we know that recovery is possible, but it will be slow. <sigh>
In other news, I ran into S. at Starbuck’s the other day. He was little help.
“My knee does that too! I run on it! Don’t worry about it! Let’s go for an 18-miler!”
Needless to say, I walked home drinking a Grande Pike’s Place Roast seasoned with bitter tears. Screw you, S. You’ve been running all of what — 2 years? Bah. You’ll get yours. <sniffle> You really <choke, sob> will. OH GOD COME OVER TO MY HOUSE AND MASSAGE MY LEG YOU STUPID HANDSOME EDUCATED SOMEWHAT FUNNY LAWYER-Y PERSON. <tantrum on floor>
It strikes me now that I end up crying in like half of these posts. So here is a picture to up today’s happy quotient by like a BAZILLION. Hoo-wah!