Over the weekend, I decided that I want to run another half-marathon soon. It's been awhile, and I'm ready to get back into them. I even started to consider when I might run the one full marathon that I want to run at some point in my life.
Sunday afternoon, I was sitting back on my heels, playing with my sister's puppy and when I went to stand, there was a loud popping sound from my knee. It kind of made me feel like a 95 year old arthritic hag, but there was no real pain associated with it, so I figured it was sort of related to the clicking noises my ankles make when I walk up stairs. Please say you know what I'm talking about - in relation to yourself, not just that you've heard mine from across the country.
Monday, I go for a run and all is fine... until I head down to East Beach for volleyball. We were running the drill where you sit down backward in the sand and pop up, ready to pass the ball when coach says "Go." I sit down. I pop up. My knee also pops... out... and neglects to then pop back in. I try to shake it back into place, I have my sister try to pop it back into place... all to no avail. Whatever, I keep playing and by the end it doesn't feel great, but the pain has lessened substantially. Once at home, I sit in the hot tub with a bottle of wine and then move onto ice (wine still readily available.) I am confident that I will awake to a fully healed joint. Okay, maybe not so much confident as extremely hopeful slash slightly worried.
I woke up this morning unable to walk. My knee is currently wrapped in ice. My father suggested motrin; unfortunately, that is upstairs.
Apparently, Jesus is not a fan of my half-marathon/full-marathon gameplan. Duly noted. I will be on this couch until further notice.
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