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.