I can't keep track of how many times in the past couple of months I've made a fresh start. No matter, I'm doing it again. I'm planning on one day at a time (which is a much more relevant statement, considering my wine consumption lately), on my road back to healthy.
On thing's for sure, I won't be running there any time soon. Knowing that Monday morning I'd be calling the knee doc, I decided going for a few miles on the treadmill wouldn't hurt. Much. I was wrong. On Saturday I ran 3 very slow, very flat miles on the 'mill and when I finished my knee ached. The good news was that at least now I can specifically pinpoint the pain to show the doc. After a little ice, a little advil and a little elevation it felt -- maybe a teeny bit better. Not much. Crap. I'm hoping I can get an appointment in the next couple of days. Hopefully I'll be told to just do a couple of exercises, or just do some stretches, or just snap my magic fingers and it will be fine.
I was of very mixed thoughts about missing this morning's race, again. I didn't at all mind sleeping in past 4:15 am, didn't mind not being in the driving wind and rain. I minded terribly not being out there running with my friends. They all ran, had a wet cold morning, got the new medal and the shirt. I stayed warm and dry and truth be told, felt pretty darn sorry for myself.
My house is clean and straightened, I have a big pot of veggie soup stewing on the stove, I have lists of appointments to make and yarn waiting to be knit. I'm tired of feeling tired, bored with feeling sorry for myself. The pity party's over, time to try something else. A fresh start.
Again.
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