The Bad News About Running

Although I've been a runner of one kind or another basically all my adult life, I've been having trouble with my right knee for some time. I even blogged about it last summer. Luckily, my running partner has been patient with my complaints, and given that she's about eight months pregnant, she isn't particularly eager to run right now, anyway. We've been walking for exercise.

Last week, I was thinking about when I could hike Mt. LeConte with my daughter (she's eight). Whether my knee would make it actually crossed my mind. That spurred me into action; I mean, sheesh, I'm only 40. I shouldn't have to worry about going on a hike with my kid, right?

So I went to see an orthopedic group on Friday. You know, the one out there on Weisgarber in its own building, churning limping patients through its well-oiled machinery and billing the heck out of the health insurers. There's even an imaging facility on site. Although I had high hopes for a cute guy in scrubs--I even shaved my legs--alas, it was not to be. Furthermore, the physician assistant I saw had no good news for me. I have a common chronic ailment called chondromalacia of the patella.

This translates loosely to "knee cap rot."

Well, I could tell you to lose weight, he said, practically sighing in boredom, But that doesn't seem necessary for you. You could try gluocsamine, but I don't know, I don't think it really works. There's physical therapy, but you already seem pretty strong, so I'm not sure it would do much good.

Wonderful.

Then he gave me a handout on chondromalacia of the patella, and waved his hand like it would be too tedious for him to explain further.

So what about running? I asked.

Bad for joint health and bad for your knee, he said. Then he brightened, But good for business.

Then Mr. Cheerless gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory. Because there aren't enough Tennesseans on drugs already. And churned me right out the door.

I'm not devastated that I can't run, but I'm not happy about it. See, running has always been a source of power for me. I've forged friendships, I've conquered elements, I've scaled ridiculous hills, and after a hot run in June of 1987, I drank the best-tasting water a human could ever drink. So I am, to put it mildly, reluctant to let running go.

Today I got some better news from an athletic trainer. She's going to give me some physical therapy exercises in January and see if that won't help get my knee cap rot under control.

I have to say, I'm pretty much willing to try anything.

Running

Due to my deteriorating right knee, I'm looking for a form of exercise other than running. It's a hard act to follow. Although I've been an off and on runner since high school, running has been my saving grace since having children. In the last five years, I've gotten in shape, regularly decompressed, and connected with the outdoors as a result of running. I've run road races and seen neighborhoods and countrysides at a slower, more appreciative pace. Running has challenged me, mentally and physically. I've run in Iowa when it was in the single digits, and I practically crawled up a hill in Walland, Tennessee during a July road race in the 95 degree heat. But most importantly, I've established great friendships with fellow female runners. We've laughed and commiserated and celebrated, all while jogging around Knoxville, sometimes on pitch black winter mornings. Many of my runner friends are voracious readers like I am, so we discuss what we're reading during our runs and later swap books. We never jog too fast that we can't have a conversation, and on weekends, we sometimes follow our run with a covert, strictly social trip to SKCUBRATS (my husband can't read backwards). Running has been a great social and physical outlet.

But my right knee is not having it these days. I've given it a break and I've switched my shoes, but nothing has worked. I'm not giving up entirely, but branching out seems to be in order. So this weekend, I tried to swim laps at the CourtSouth pool. With my goggles slowly filling with water, I flailed up and down the lap lane, hoping I wasn't attracting too much concern from the tan, annoyingly lean lifeguard. As I hung on the wall panting after each lap, I realized how solitary swimming is. (And really, how exhausting and boring.)

I just don't think swimming's going to do it for me.