Pigheads don’t fly!
Last week, I had a sore heel. This week, after running far too hard and too long in order to try to get myself ready for the Brooklyn Marathon on Sunday, Nov. 15, I learned I have a
partial tear of the medial meniscus of my left knee.
My current knee pain overtook that heel bit … Funny how a
new OW-EEEE ! will supplant the other. Foot pain? It’s nothing compared to how
my knee feels.
But not looks. Thankfully there is no swelling and what
seemed to be sure-thing surgery may be less than that. Physical therapy and
anti-inflammatories, rest and who knows I may just be back out there before the
snow flies.
There. Well. To the chalkboard. Trained for eleven
marathons. Finished six. Injured for two (Boston 2011, Brooklyn 2015). Forced
to cancel for person reasons for one (Rome 2008). Injured during the race and unable to finish
for two (Ottawa 1985, Windsor-Detroit 1987).
A wise person (my wife M, in case you're asking) would say that would be
just enough of the marathoning thing.
I don’t know. My darling daughter K has arranged a hockey
evening (Islanders at home to play the Canadiens!) this month to help soothe may
marathon-missing blues. As to the idea of letting this pastime fade into history,
well that ship has yet to sail. But one thing is certain: I’m determined in the
months ahead to go back to running for my life.
Next: Running for
Your Life: The Long, Hot Stretch
