The fact that a whole
month had passed since my last long run was painfully noticeable
during the last couple of kilometres of my 27 km run yesterday. My
legs, that had recovered beautifully after Thursday's heavy gym
session, were now wet noodles, and my breathing was laboured.
What was neither
painful nor noticeable was the ache in my right knee that had forced
me to cry ”Runner's knee!” four weeks prior and had kept me away from
my beloved long runs. Nothing. Not even the usual niggles I always
have, and have to ignore in order to be able to run.
My left knee, on the
other hand, was miserable.
”What is it?” I
asked it, feeling very concerned.
”Nothing”, it
replied, doing a very convincing impersonation of Eeyore.
”No, really, what is
it? I can see you're upset”
”Oh, don't mind me. I
just want to be alone for a minute”
”It's hard to leave
you alone. You're attached to the rest of me”
Then it would pull
itself together and help me move forward without a sound. Until it
couldn't take it anymore and started mopping around again.
My knee's obvious
attention-whoring was subsequently met by indifference on my part. I
think it was just jealous that I'd given my right knee so much tender
loving care these past few weeks.
The rest of the day was
spent in the company of good friends. Even my left knee was happy
about that.
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