It's now been two and a half weeks without so much as a jog, but I've been busy lately, not running (at all) and not eating (much). That's what stress, sadness, two jobs and a busted knee will do to you, I guess. It's not exactly a kind of busy that I am happy with, and I miss my routine sorely, but I keep telling myself it's temporary. It will get better.
On Monday, when it was snowing, I was walking home from work and a guy went jogging past me. He looked a little cold, but otherwise not very bothered about the white wet stuff fluffing up around his sneakers. I had a big pang of jealousy that confused me for a moment -- I was heading home to my warm apartment, soon to be enjoying an impromptu dinner with friends, and all of a sudden all I wanted to be doing was running outside in 30 degree weather? Yes.
The knee is holding up better -- no major pains for more than a week now, but it still feels weak. I've been super careful not to put extra weight on it, have used the elevator to get to my fourth-floor apartment every day and have even tried to stop wearing heels! (Not very successfully. But that's mostly just because I'm a short person and most of my pants are too long, thus requiring the wearing of heels.) These measures, combined, have hopefully allowed it to rest up and strengthen up.
Today I practiced yoga and stretched -- still no pain, but I put enough weight on my knees that I could feel the imbalance between the strong right knee and the wiggly left knee.
I am deliberating over when this "rest" period should be over ... tomorrow, next week?
Yoga is on the agenda until I feel 100 percent ready to risk it. If I try jogging and have the same problems as last time, I figure I'm out for another two weeks at least, and seriously, a doctor's appointment.
One truth this inactivity has unfortunately reinforced in me is that I must have spent a lot of time doing nothing before I started running and working out regularly. Or maybe I slept more. Either way, I had so much time on my hands that was wasted in fruitless, even damaging, pursuits, such as lashing myself into other people's arms in order to feel as if I had a purpose. I guess that made life feel exciting, like a roller coaster ride.
But I'm glad I've landed safely back on the ground. Running on the road is enough of a rush for me.
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