Moving on. I have been trying to rehabilitate one part of my lower limbs after another since 2015. It’s been an almost constant uphill battle with high hamstring tendonitis, piriformis sciatica, and other assorted ills on one leg or another. On January 8th of this year, I declared myself free of all concerns, having had no problems for at least three months, and able to run daily for the previous four. Then, following some stupidity while lifting weights on Jan. 9, and excessive laps on a wonderful powder day on March 5, I reduced my right knee to rubble. MRI showed no cartilege under the kneecap. The result, persistent swelling and tenderness, along with a deep and grinding pain. A sports MD, and an Orthopedist, as well as a PT, all told me, though, I could run as much as I could tolerate. I mostly stopped running for the next 6 weeks, and seriously wondered what I would do with my life if I couldn’t continue at triathlon, which does, after all, involve running.
I restarted with a mile on the beach in Spain, and re-built my frequency and distance. But I encountered a new problem, with my bladder. On and off for the next three months, I had increasing pain there while running. Eventually, a bladder stone was diagnosed and removed – lasered to smithereens, precisely. That took care of that problem, returning me to running as best I could with a knee which may or may not be tolerant of the daily stress I insist on applying.
I’m now 3.5 weeks into my current re-hab, and have found quite a lot of confidence during the process. I’ve run 1.5 hours at a time (increasing distance). I;m running 5-6 times a week (increasing frequency). I’m up to 27 miles a week (more and more volume). And, I raced a triathlon two days ago, in which I did the last of the 6.2 miles in 8 minutes, dropping steadily during the race from 9 (testing myself at speed). So far, so good. But I am totally reluctant to say I am anywhere out of the woods, having pulled up short at least six times in the last three years when I went too far, or too fast, or too often, too soon. This week I will hold steady, and try another race on Saturday.
You don’t miss your water until your well runs dry. The thought that my bladder, or my knee, or my hip, or whatever, would keep me from running and thus racing triathlons, was almost more than I could bear. I have always had a love/hate relationship specifically with running. I didn’t know how much it meant to me until I couldn’t do it. I still don’t like to get out and run; it still is hard work while it’s going on. But what it does for me, for my body and my soul, can’t be denied. I persist.