Life in the Slow Lane

For the first time in 9+ weeks since I injured my right knee, I awoke this morning and felt my knee was finally looking normal again. It had a nice dimple on the inside of my knee where it used to be swollen with fluid. I still get a little pain from time to time, but I think that is a good warning to never run again.

To celebrate the return of my knee dimple, I took an early morning walk without the dog. I could walk at whatever pace I wanted for a change. Little did I know I would be race-walking.

As I headed north on one street, I found myself less than 1/10th of a mile behind a middle-aged woman who was also walking. The race was on. Does it count as a race if the other person doesn’t know they are racing? Little did I know that I was not only racing to finish first, but also to preserve my pride and retain what little dignity I could find.

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A Decision I Kneeded to Correct

A few posts back, I mentioned that I needed to make a decision between walking with a cane and training for a 5K race. I decided on the 5K race. I soon came to regret that decision this past Saturday.

I injured my right knee while walking the dog on Saturday. Then I further injured it while walking through the store to purchase a knee brace. Why would I need a knee brace? So I could go on a planned run Saturday afternoon which went well with minimal pain. The brace worked! And then my knee inflated like Trump’s ego at one of his rallies.

This is not my knee, but this pic is highly representative of what mine looked like.

Knee swollen

The kneecap is under there somewhere. So, I rested and iced and expected it to get better quickly. Nope. There was no way I could exercise and do my deep knee bends.

knee bends

So I bit the bullet and went to see an orthopedist specializing in sports injuries which is a stretch. That’s like Trump going to see a psychiatrist specializing in geniuses.

We jointly decided on a treatment protocol and this is what she pulled from my knee.

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Walk, Don’t Run

I participated in a 2 mile Fun Run/Walk today that benefited my youngest child’s school. Now that I am running again, I contemplated running the 2 mile course. Perhaps I could have come in first in the “ancient” age group. However, as I scanned the field of young parents, some of whom are the age of my oldest daughter, I realized that there was a very distinct possibility that I could be passed by a walker as I ran. Rather than risk the embarrassment and ignominy of being passed by a young mother recovering from a recent C-section pushing her new baby in a stroller while leisurely chatting with friends, I walked.

Halfway to Nowhere

I met half my running goal yesterday. I have an upcoming 5K run (3.1 miles) hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles thanks to my 8 year old daughter as part of her Girls on the Run program. In 2 months, she will participate in a 5K Fun Run, and is required to have a running buddy. Never mind that her oldest sister was routinely running 5 miles last year. Never mind that another sister and brother were high school track stars receiving All-State honors and college track scholarship offers. Pay no attention to those other runners in the family since old dad drew the short straw and is officially her running buddy. Yay?

I finished a 1.55 mile training run yesterday, so I have another 2 months to double that distance by Fun Run day. At this point in my life, running that additional 1.55 miles seems to me like asking me to run to the moon on a path of flaming, broken glass that has sharp teeth that bite at my feet while I carry a hippo on my back. No wait, that’s no hippo, that’s an ass. My fat ass. As a former distance runner and triathlete, getting even halfway to 5K has been a humbling experience. Not only was I once an athlete, but I even collected some awards from races over the years, mostly from the awards table when nobody was looking.

This 5K Fun Run actually should not be as daunting as it appears to me. I was actually in pretty decent shape late last year, until …

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