Wants vs. Knees

It's been over a year since I suffered a Type 3 Tear of the Medial Meniscus, and months (sorry, don't know how many) since discovering that I was also the proud possessor of an old partial tear of the ACL that had not healed well.  I am pleased to report that, most days, the knee feels so good that I hardly ever think about it.

I hardly ever think about the pain, that is.  The knee, I think about.  I have to, so I won't do anything stupid and screw it up again.  I guess it's a good sign that I don't think about it.  I mean, lack of pian is awesome, right?  In all honesty, I feel pretty normal most of the time.

There is, however, one caveat to the lack of constant pain.  Who would've thought I'd be saying a thing like that?  Strange as it may seem, it's true.  Without that niggling little pain (or, you know, that overwhelming humongous pain), I forget important things.  Things like my PT exercises.  I am still at the point where missing a day of PT sets me back by a week, but I feel so good some days that I forget to do my exercises.  Of course, I remember the next day, but then I'm fighting to get back to where I already was, which is frustrating.   Things like the fact that I just am not a runner anymore.  One recent morning, I awoke to a glorious, bright, golden sunrise, and immediately thought, "What a great day for a run!"  I was all ready to lace up my shoes and go when I realized, "Oh, crud.  I'm not supposed to run."

I can't help but wonder how this will be as more time passes.  My original injury (the torn ACL, which was misdiagnosed and mistreated, as it turns out) reared it's ugly head when I was in college.  I did some PT, and, for a few years, I was pretty good about keeping up with my exercises and taking care of my knee.  Then, eventually, it felt so good ~ so normal ~ that I just stopped thinking about it.  When I stopped thinking about it, I stopped taking care of it.  I am told that is probably what brought me to last Summer's festival of fun (a.k.a. torn meniscus, which, by the way, is not fun).

I guess I am going to have to devise some plan to remind myself not to get over-confident and think I can go back to all my old tricks.  I'm very forgetful, so I need a plan.  It's important to admit to myself, too, that I am not merely forgetful.  The truth is, I want to run.  I'm like a junkie.  I wake up in the morning craving a run.  I catch myself researching running shoes and local runs, before I remind myself that those are off the table for good.  What's the runner's equivalent to methadone?  Is there some sort of program for this?

I'm trying bicycling.  I think that's my methadone.  I tried walking, but it was about as effective as, say, a band-aid on major head trauma.  Like when somebody tells a smoker to just chew gum, instead.  I spent mornings walking around all jittery and out of sorts, thinking, "Are you freaking kidding me?!?!!" Biking is good.  I get the knee (and the ankle, which we're not talking about, because I am still pissed off at it) moving, and I feel the wind in my face and watch the scenery whip by at a rate similar to that of running.  I never ran very fast or very far, so I don't have to bike very fast or very far, either.  so far, I think it's working.  In fact, now that I am talking about it, I want to go get out the bike and go for a quick ride.

So.  That's where I am right now with all of this.  I WANT to run.  I want to move furniture, turn cartwheels, goof off with the kids and do my old cheerleading moves, just to make them giggle.  But I NEED to be able to walk when I'm old.  I need to be able to do my day-to-day activities, like walking to and from the laundry room, grocery shopping...   Woo-hoo.  It's a party.  I need to avoid making things worse and ending up needing surgery that we can't afford, and that will leave me exactly where I am right now.  I need to be responsible.  But I still want to run.