Getting back to running is coming along nicely. Kind of. Yesterday I ran a total of 11 km with J, following the old true and tested recipe of running for 5 minutes, walking for one. Although I survived the continuous running for 2,5 km that Saturday's little duathlon entailed, I didn't want to challenge fate any more. I've become a coward. I'll probably never dare run without walking breaks ever again. Oh well. It suits my ultra running plans.
Part of my rehab schedule calls for squats. I upped the ante by holding a couple of 1,5 kg weights, which worked great in the beginning. But this morning, as I was doing my squats, the knee suddenly sent out a warning signal so strong that it scared me half to death. It actually hurt a little, and that hasn't happened in months. Sure, it's been stiff, but I never pushed it so far for it to hurt.
As you can imagine, that turned my mood a shade of sour whiter than yoghurt. And when your mood is already this rotten, first world problems you might otherwise not even have noticed can send you over the edge. Like, not finding a sleeveless functional top to buy for when it's this warm. And ordering the wrong dish at the Chinese restaurant. I wanted noodles. I got rice. To my defense, the menu only said ”fried with vegetables”. I assumed the noun they had missed was noodles, because the dish was right there, under all the other noodle dishes. I felt a primal scream rising from the depths of my larynx, barely contained by my lips, as I realised my mistake. My irritation turned to fury and, since I was the only one to blame for this mistake, I took it out on J.
He was happily unaware as we walked home, going on about how I should stop doing my rehab exercises and just run. I stared at him sideways but he didn't seem to notice. The only thing coming out of my mouth was groans of frustration. I didn't want to hear this now! I was too busy trying not to spontaneously combust!
After a lot of stretching and massaging with the rolling pin, all I can do now is to rest and hope for this pain to be a figment of my imagination. Because if it isn't...square one is my least favourite square of all.