Apparently, today is National Running Day. The old me would have spent this blog post mocking running in all of its many forms. The words “invading horde,” “pointy sticks” and “Spencer Pratt” would have been used to describe the only situation in which I would feel compelled to pick up the pace.
But you know what? Somehow, in my old age, I have discovered that I enjoy running.
To the point of being disappointed that my ongoing knee woes have limited the amount of running that I can take on to about a mile at the time.
The words “how soon before I can start building up my distances?” were uttered to my physical therapist.
In an un-ironic fashion.
I’m just as shocked as you all are.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve built up my stamina enough that it doesn’t feel like I’m going to drop dead after going about 200 feet. Maybe it’s the fact that I like running a lot more when my field hockey coach isn’t roller-blading behind me telling me to run faster. Maybe I’ve just caught a case of the crazies. Maybe I like being able to fit into my pants. Maybe sheer determination makes me want to get my knee under control so that my activity isn’t limited. Any way you slice it, I like running and I can’t wait to start running more as my knee gets stronger.
How is my knee, you might ask.
Well, I’m so glad that you did.
Apparently I inherited “bad” hips from my parents (thanks! thanks so much!) and the way that they are shaped makes my knees jet out at a thirty degree angle. This is generally considered to be a bad thing as it results in a great deal of grinding. The tendinitis was caused by my patellar tendon going “ENOUGH ALREADY! SHEESH!” and inflaming itself up like my attempts at dinner (Have I told you all this before? I can’t remember and I’m too lazy to look it up). The bad news? This is something that I’ll pretty much always have to deal with. The good news? With physical therapy, ice, ibuprofen and a knee brace it is very manageable.
I can run a mile now, if I spend the next two hours icing my poor knees.
I should be back to real running by the end of the summer.
A running horde of Spencer Pratts carrying pointy sticks — the stuff of my worst nightmares.
Don’t forget the marathon you’re going to run next February!
Hehe, I vacillate between running-obsessed and “you can’t make me!” I think I’m somewhere in the middle now, where it’s a pleasant feeling, and I think of it as a treat. Like you, I have no idea how that happened, but man I’m glad it did.