Runner's knee

It was Christmas day 2006. I don't much enjoy checking my mail often because there's only ever people asking me to pay my bills. But today
I was expecting cards and maybe even baklava from my Ya-Ya. So I put the dog on his leash and walked to the mail center to collect the bills and the goodies. With arms full of mail and dog on leash, we started climbing the concrete steps to my apartment. It was a combination of my clumsiness and the dog's leash that tripped me. With arms full, the only thing to catch my fall was my knees. Ouch. Right on the concrete corner of the step. In between laughter and tears, I managed to hop into my apartment before collapsing to the floor unable to walk. My left knee ballooned to the size of my thigh. The right wasn't as bad, but was still swollen. The doctor was certain I had shattered my knee cap, but x-rays showed it was a very bad sprain. I took the cue to relax, prop up my feet and read many books until I could walk without crutches or a limp.

It was only a month or two later when I got my first job at a small newspaper and began the weary life of commuting and working inconsistent hours. I didn't have the time to exercise, I told myself. I was certain I would take the time to strenghten my body and my knees once I got into a normal routine. It wasn't long before days turned into weeks, and then years had gone by since I had followed a consistent exercise regimen. I excused my laziness with, "Oh, I'm busy." "Oh, I have bad knees." But I didn't have bad knees. I had weak knees from lack of activity.

But, now I am avoiding injury. A real injury. After the half marathon my knees were stiff and sore. I hadn't run much in the two weeks prior to Cowtown after getting the flu and an upper respiratory infection. Thirteen miles was the longest I had ever run, and the quick increase in distance strained my knees. After reading in Runner's World (of which I am now a proud subscriber!), I diagnosed myself with runner's knee. It comes from mileage increases and weak glutes. Yes, glutes. That means my butt is weak. That's a confidence builder for sure. I identified the symptoms and then the illness and now it was time for treatment. But I didn't like the treatment. Slow down on the running, the magazine told me. Cross-train, it added. Exercise your butt, it snickered.

No running? That was scary. I had just become committed to something. If I slowed down or stop, I was afraid I would never start again. This experience has enhanced my understanding of myself. And that understanding shows that I operate in extremes. I am an all-or-nothing person. When I'm busy, I'm busy to the extreme. When I'm being lazy, I'm downright lethargic. So if I slow down on running, will I give up all together. Can I learn to operate in moderation?

Well, time will tell. I've been joining the elliptical exercisers. Some seem serious about it. Others wear jeans. Or makeup. Or read while on the machine. None of these things seem to mean vigorous workout in my eyes. But I'm trying to log the same mileage I would be running and doing it at about the same pace. I feel stronger. And maybe this break will make me a better runner. I will learn moderation and consistency and that sometimes it's about doing a little bit at a time. Oh, and maybe the squats for my knees will give me a better butt. I mean really: what girl doesn't want that?