Summer, Day 24
For the whole summer so far, go to Day 1 and follow the links.
The knee got shut down today. I'm not running the Wasatch Back this weekend.
I saw a sports medicine specialist, who within five minutes diagnosed that I likely had a meniscus tear in my left knee (the general practitioner on Monday had theorized this, as well as gout or a Baker's cyst). I was given a knee brace, instructed to ice it often and take naproxen, and not to run for eight weeks. But, the doctor, knowing I was going to run the Wasatch Back this weekend, said I probably couldn't do any more damage to it by running three more times, but that it would hurt a lot afterward. I had hope.
Later in the evening, Michael and drove to the East Bench neighborhood beyond Foothill Drive looking for some long downhills to test the knee. My last scheduled leg in the relay was a 6-mile downhill, and this is what I feared would be too hard on my failing knee. The first downhill we tried was long and not too steep, and the knee in the new brace held up. So far, so good. We found a steeper hill, and that's when my pessimism began to swell like the inside of my knee. I can't run slowly down a steeper hill; I need to stride at least a little. In fact, striding is what I like about downhill runs -- it's what made the 7-mile leg I did last year down from Guardsman Pass enjoyable. However, striding meant I'd potentially plant my left knee painfully. This happened at least once on every downhill I tried tonight. On the last one -- a long, steep one that Michael said we should try, I felt good for 50 yards and even said so out loud. Then, I planted wrong and yelped in pain, though I kept running. Michael, who was running ahead of me, stopped, concerned I had really hurt myself. I finished the downhill, convinced I was not going to run this weekend. The downhill leg I was scheduled for was my third of the relay. I would be running it already tired, with my knee already aching. If I'm gingerly trying not to step wrong, but still doing so once every hundred yards or so, it would be a long, long six miles.And trying to go slow would just screw up the other knee. I finally accepted my fate.
Needless to say, I am bummed. The rest of the day wasn't so bad, though. The boys had swim practice this morning, then haircuts. Michael enjoyed another day of basketball camp. We all went to the doctor, then to Walgreens. I took Popcorn for a short walk after Michael and I got home from my running experiment. I got sucked in to some of the new "Dallas" on TNT.
After I made my decision, my knee reconfirmed my choice while I was setting up the sprinkler to water the back lawn. As I was turning on the spigot, I sneezed and instinctively braced my legs to absorb the violent body reaction (which is, in its essence, what a sneeze is). I twisted my left knee ever so slightly, but enough to aggravate the swelling within. If I can't sneeze without pain, I probably shouldn't be running, either.
The knee got shut down today. I'm not running the Wasatch Back this weekend.
I saw a sports medicine specialist, who within five minutes diagnosed that I likely had a meniscus tear in my left knee (the general practitioner on Monday had theorized this, as well as gout or a Baker's cyst). I was given a knee brace, instructed to ice it often and take naproxen, and not to run for eight weeks. But, the doctor, knowing I was going to run the Wasatch Back this weekend, said I probably couldn't do any more damage to it by running three more times, but that it would hurt a lot afterward. I had hope.
Later in the evening, Michael and drove to the East Bench neighborhood beyond Foothill Drive looking for some long downhills to test the knee. My last scheduled leg in the relay was a 6-mile downhill, and this is what I feared would be too hard on my failing knee. The first downhill we tried was long and not too steep, and the knee in the new brace held up. So far, so good. We found a steeper hill, and that's when my pessimism began to swell like the inside of my knee. I can't run slowly down a steeper hill; I need to stride at least a little. In fact, striding is what I like about downhill runs -- it's what made the 7-mile leg I did last year down from Guardsman Pass enjoyable. However, striding meant I'd potentially plant my left knee painfully. This happened at least once on every downhill I tried tonight. On the last one -- a long, steep one that Michael said we should try, I felt good for 50 yards and even said so out loud. Then, I planted wrong and yelped in pain, though I kept running. Michael, who was running ahead of me, stopped, concerned I had really hurt myself. I finished the downhill, convinced I was not going to run this weekend. The downhill leg I was scheduled for was my third of the relay. I would be running it already tired, with my knee already aching. If I'm gingerly trying not to step wrong, but still doing so once every hundred yards or so, it would be a long, long six miles.And trying to go slow would just screw up the other knee. I finally accepted my fate.
Needless to say, I am bummed. The rest of the day wasn't so bad, though. The boys had swim practice this morning, then haircuts. Michael enjoyed another day of basketball camp. We all went to the doctor, then to Walgreens. I took Popcorn for a short walk after Michael and I got home from my running experiment. I got sucked in to some of the new "Dallas" on TNT.
After I made my decision, my knee reconfirmed my choice while I was setting up the sprinkler to water the back lawn. As I was turning on the spigot, I sneezed and instinctively braced my legs to absorb the violent body reaction (which is, in its essence, what a sneeze is). I twisted my left knee ever so slightly, but enough to aggravate the swelling within. If I can't sneeze without pain, I probably shouldn't be running, either.
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