Running In Place

Here’s how these things go.

First, I register for the Boilermaker even though I haven’t run a step since early March because, most days, it’s hard to go down a flight of stairs without a screaming knee. But I have to trust that things will work out the way they’re supposed to so I throw my money down to assure that – just in case – my spot will be waiting for me.

Next up is impending tri-glory, right?? All I need to do is learn to swim, fire up the courage to finally get on my oh-so-expensive bike, and, um, actually be able to run. So I register for this. And trust that I will have the gumption and ability to toe a new line when the time comes.

Now get this. I’m sitting in a hotel room in Oregon last week, having already quietly resolved to shitcan my previously much-crowed-about but clearly unrealistic plan to run the MCM. And what do you suppose I come across but this wingnut! So then I’m, like, man why the hell not?? I mean, I think it would really suck to have October roll around, and be up and running but have to stand at the sideline cause I shoulda woulda, but didn’t think I coulda. Ya pays your money and you takes your chances. So I did.

Now. Let’s have a talk about my knee. I think I previously whined about the recurring soreness after swimming, which really pissed me off to no end. It just doesn’t seem fair, you know? And then, I did – in fact – get on that bike and ride! And it was positively lovely, despite popping the chain twice (at least I now know how to do one roadside repair, in absence of actually knowing how to shift gears properly). That evening, everything’s cool – blissed out biker chick. Next 2 days, debilitating pain. Fahk.

Last week I finally got set up with an MRI. Diagnosis: enchondroma. Treatment: who the hell knows – still waiting to see the ortho. Interestingly, if this is a true enchondroma, then it’s not really a running injury, per se. I have had hard knots between my knuckles for years that I thought were ganglion cysts but maybe they’re part of some lumpy bumpy predisposition I have. At least my knuckles only cut my pro boxing career short – that’s nothing like not being able to run! If I leave it to the internet, it would appear that the primary options for painful enchonds are surgical. Maybe that’s the case, maybe that’s the best option – I’ll have to reserve judgment till I see the specialist. In the meantime there’s not much to lean on but my dreams. I know there’s a possibility that, this year anyway, they may not materialize. But until I hear otherwise, I’ll say maybe they can. It’s a leap of faith, and that in itself is forward motion.