This is a post that I have been meaning to write, but haven’t because it is a rather sore subject. I’d much rather recount the many half marathons, 10K’s, 5K’s, and training runs I have done over my, albeit short, running career. I never like talking about the dreaded “I” word: Injury.
Right now, I am a very much injured runner. A runner that is hoping that somehow venting my feelings to my blog will serve as a therapeutic release. Two weeks ago, Glass City served as a reminder that I am capable of so much more and I can and will break my major PR’s with a little hard work. So last weekend, I set off to prove just that. I wanted to run an 8 mile “long run” since I was planning on running the Huron Lighthouse 10 Miler this weekend.
My mantra that repeated in my head: “throw the hammer down“. So I pushed it. It was an comfortably harder-ish pace. I never felt pain. I never felt a wrong step. 8 Miles Completed in 8:20 pace. I was a happy runner chick.
I have a long, storied, and rather colorful history of knee problems. Stemming back to my college soccer days. And I FREAKED out. My right knee has already been through an ACL Reconstruction with medial meniscal repair. Hubs got to deal with an inconsolable wife. I was positive my knee was done-zo.
So I went to Urgent Care and had X-rays done (PS never use urgent care; as they are neither helpful for orthopedic injuries and you will likely find yourself nearly choking out a CNP for hating upon running). They were negative. Saw an ortho on Monday. He wasn’t concerned. So my next few days consisted of icing, ultrasounding, ther ex’ing, and attempting every blasted taping technique I know.
I attempted to slowly jog again on it Wednesday, so I could make a pre-game decision as to whether I was capable of running this weekend. We all know how this ends: it was not to be.
I don’t have pain while running. I have a little soreness medially on my knee when walking and working. No catching, locking. But there is that God-awful lump. And it gets bigger with running. Gets smaller when iced.
So I insisted to my ortho that I get an MRI. And that is where we wait. I should get my answers next week whenever I can be scheduled for the MRI. And then I will finally have a diagnosis. And finally have some treatment options.
Until then, I will continue to be a very sad Eli that cannot run. I can only bike and sometimes elliptical. And my 2012 Racing Calendar will be somewhat in jeopardy. It’s funny how it took all of this to make me realize how much I truly love running and enjoy running in races. I apparently love it enough that my mood and general demeanor have changed, I refuse to read my current issue of Runner’s World because I told hubs “it will just make me really depressed”, and have randomly cried to nearly all of my family members. Stages of grief, much?
Hopefully, next week holds some answers. And hopefully the answers involve a quicker than anticipated return to my sport. And hopefully I can learn to channel my overall crap attitude into something more positive. Hope, hope, hope.
Normally I end each post with “Happy Running” and I still wish this to each of my readers. I pray I will be back soon to join you.