It happened again. My knee popped.
Five miles into my intended 18 today, pop. OUCH. I tried to run on it and ended up almost falling.
The five miles pre-pop were easy; limping home five miles was hard.
OK, I'm being stoic. It was beyond hard. It sucked. It it was upsetting. Humiliating. And frightening--what if this painful "pop" was a serious injury that would sideline me for months, if not indefinitely?
I ended up in the ER. And on crutches. It's a sprained ligament--they couldn't tell me more than that without an MRI. Which I will hopefully get on Monday, when I can get in to see my orthopedist.
It hurts and I'm upset. But being a silver-lining kind of gal, I'm not 100% convinced that being forced to take a break, even if it's for a few weeks, is such an awful thing right now.
I've been running on empty fumes for a few weeks now, ever since my half marathon in November, which I'm starting to think I should have taken the time to recover from.
You know, more than one day off.
I've felt run down. Exhausted. Waking up at 4 am has lost its die-hard charm and has become, well, waking up at 4 am.
I hate limping. I hate being sidelined. (And don't get me started on how much my armpits HATE crutches.)
But I'm hoping to return to the road a wiser, calmer and more well-rested runner. OK, I won't lie--at this point I'm scared, and I'm just hoping to return to the road, period. But if I could do it with better needs and a cooler head, I think that would be a good thing. Because having an "overuse" injury is no badge of honor.