Injuries Speak Louder than Words

I've diagnosed myself, via internet, with Runner's Knee. This fills me with a perverse sense of pride: I might have doubted my athletic prowess (see my last entry), but my right knee believes I'm a runner, and it's giving me the aches and pains to prove it.

According to one site, "this is not your knee's fault." The blame shifting here appeals to me. As long as we're pointing fingers, I'd like to put the fault for this injury on Elisa and Amanda. Or the economy. Say, maybe my eight-year-old knee used to hang out with terrorists.

The real culprits, it turns out, are my quads (already, I'm sounding athletic!), my feet, or my shoes. (Are we SURE it's not Wall Street?)

The good news is, I shouldn't have to stop running. I'm supposed to decrease my mileage, take ibuprofen, and ice my knee after I run. Also, avoid running downhill and walking down stairs (although living in a third-floor walk-up makes this difficult).

Normally, I'd quit running until the pain went away, but I've been ignoring it because I didn't want to lose Triathablog points. Bad blog! On the other hand, I'm not sure it's practical to quit running every time I feel an injury coming on. Maybe it's better to know the cause of the injury so I can stretch better, strengthen my quads, and go by the Trak Shack for some new running shoes. Blogging redeems itself!

This inconvenience got me thinking. What if I get sick, or tired, or really involved in CW programming? Maybe it's time to take preventative action: Get more iron (we vegetarians have to watch it), lay off the caffeine (okay, go easy on the caffeine), remind myself that I can watch Gossip Girl later on iTunes. I guess it's about time I replace McDonalds with vegetables. Besides, I can't believe I haven't won Monopoly yet, anyway.