Traitorous Joints

I'm going to just resume like I haven't been not blogging for several weeks. I could go into why I haven't been, but you don't care and I don't care to share. So there.

This morning was supposed to be a 6 miler. No worries. I was ready. Four miles... going well... doing ok... 4.5 miles my knee decides he is getting a little pissed off. Not really pissed off, you know, just a little irritated at the treatment it's receiving. He (let's call it a 'he') starts to telegraph this displeasure to me in fits and starts, causing me to walk more than my fatigue would have dictated.

Around five miles my knee is really mad. He is fucking angry. Just over 1:22 into it he decides he's HAD IT and he's NOT going to take it anymore! He tries to give out on me. Little bastard. Rat fuck knee. I tell him, oh no you don't, you're not going to fucking do that, you're walking me home whether you like it or not! He did. He got a little less angry as we went along, so I guess you could say we negotiated an uneasy truce.

I can see him right now, that little shit. Just hanging out, like he's not a walking (ahem) time bomb waiting to cause me excruciating pain and/or risk my ability to finish the half. ::smacks knee:: There. Just in case he thought I'd forgotten about his treason.

Tomorrow according to my schedule I have the option of cross training. I'm going to march (hear that, knee?) my arse down to the clubhouse and do some quad presses. Maybe some arm work for good measure, so I feel like I'm going some good. That little craptastical mass of cartilage is getting some reprieve - he had better use it to heal and get stronger so the next time I try to run more than 5 miles he doesn't go all apeshit on me.

Because I will kick him.