I love running. It’s true. It’s so much more than the physical movement of putting one foot in front of the other in running steps. It’s the whole deal that I love. I love the challenge of going the distance. I love the feeling of being totally spent, exhausted, covered in salty sweat – there’s nothing better. Knowing that I’ve done my best. I love it.
It’s time out from the worries, troubles and the routine. It’s time with people who understand about running without actually having to say any words. Running in all weathers, up and down hills, along the flats. Short runs, long runs, every run.
My knee was so sore all last week and especially after running on Sunday. Had the gods of running looked down from their heavenly running track in the sky, they would’ve seen a sad Unsporty Woman in her uncomely dressing gown and ugg boots, with a bag of frozen peas on her right knee, a worried look and a clutch full of sodden tissues.
After trying to get an appointment with the usual osteo and not being able to get one, I called an osteo that was suggested by a friend.
A fresh young man called me into his consulting room. I told him my story and he asked about my medical history. I showed him my jointless big toes and he looked perplexed as every health professional always does. Then the treatment begun. For women who’ve given birth you will know what I mean about breathing into the pain. I was manipulated this way and that. Finally the words I longed to hear were said. It’s not ligament damage. Oh sweet relief. I have an ITB tracking issue that’s already responding to the treatment. Foam rolling. Stretching and staying away from great distances for two weeks is recommended. The fog of worry lifted. For the first time in months and months I felt completely light and worry-less. Farming has been no picnic and honestly I am always carrying, or more like dragging a huge assortment of emotional, worrisome baggage. The diagnosis made me light and young and free.
But then the next words brought me down with a thud. I’d like you back next week and we’ll do some dry needling. Dry. Needling. Needles. GASP.
I am the girl at school who needed two teachers, one cleaner and the gardener to hold her down to administer vaccinations.
Ok, I said. If that’s what it takes to keep me running. Perhaps I’ll take a bottle of wine to swig on!
I’m pleased to report that the knee is great today. Rather than feeling like I have pencil stuck into it, it only feels a bit prickly.
I am so grateful. I am so in awe of the knowledge, professionalism and care of this osteo. I’ve been saved by an osteo when I first started running. I had misaligned patellas (I didn’t even know what a patella was! The toe bone’s connected to the foot bone, the foot bone’s connected to the leg bone, the leg bone’s connected to the knee bone….etc etc etc!).
Bruny Island here I come. Another little look down the dark, lonely abyss of not running has made me even more determined. Even more grateful.
Oh and my foam roller has been dusted off and being used regularly. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch!
Perhaps the gods of running did look down on me and create a set of circumstances that lead me to the right Osteo and gave me another lesson in gratitude.
Happy running 🙂
PS and I’m tip toeing past the calf sheds with my fingers in my ears. I’m NOT feeding baby moo cows until my knee is totally better! Oh and if you’re around next week and want to come and listen at the door while I have my first dry needling experience…well….it may be worth a few giggles, I am a sook!