So. I missed a day of posting. I blame an ice-, Stairmaster-, endorphin-withdrawal-, and yoga-induced stupor. But we HAVE gotten to a point where the pain is COMPLETELY gone! POW! The only issue is still a slight “click” when I bend and straighten it beyond a certain angle. Can I still run on this? No pain but weird noises? <uncomfortable fidgeting>
At left is a scientific diagram of the body of a runner’s-knee-afflicted individual. This visual aid is to assist you, so that you can more easily and educated-ly give me medical advice.
Well, here’s hoping it’s all good. Tomorrow I plan to do a measly half an hour on the treadmill, just to reinforce to myself that it’s allll fixed. My workout today consisted of running around the house as much as possible, as well as lots of hops on my left foot, all of it “just to make sure.” I’m probably annoying the bejeezus outof ol’ Smoky McIncense downstairs, but then again, he’s probably like waaaay too mellow to get up and bitch about it.
Seriously, though, I’ve been feeling bazonkers for these past 8 days of convalescence. Not to get too drama-queen, but I’ve been experiencing a sort of minor identity crisis, forced to consider what on earth I would do if I didn’t have running to do for exercise/stress-relief. Stairmasters don’t go anywhere, lifting isn’t sweat-intensive enough, and the instructor on last night’s Netflix yoga video told me “not to open your flower’s petals before it blossoms!”
Somehow I suddenly — in the room alone, mind you — had the urge to cover my vag.
“You’ll break the petals!” he said.
“PERVERT!” I yelled at the MacBook.
I guess the issue here is that I never realized how much I really really love/depend on running. I mean, I’m not engrossed enough in my job or school to let those things take over my life, and I don’t have a husband or child to eat away at my time (not that I’m complaining). Running has really been it for such a long time. And there is only ONE EPISODE OF 30 ROCK PER WEEK to watch on Hulu! Not enough to sustain me, kids. I also have found myself, in my withdrawal-crazed internet browsing sessions, considering the possibility of a 50-miler. Really. Because that’s not at all insane.
So. Dear readers. Pray/do a forbidden dance/meditate/send some vibes my way so that I can have my goddamn life back.