Hi Mir,
I have had this swollen right knee for the past 10 days and stopped any running about a week ago...and the swelling has been going down and the limp is less and the soreness is less. Dr Vanhuysen saw me again last Tuesday and reiterates that this is (simply) arthritis and that my knee is complaining (my words and translation into people talk) and he believes that I CAN run the marathon but that I will have to be more creative from here on in.
I have had this swollen right knee for the past 10 days and stopped any running about a week ago...and the swelling has been going down and the limp is less and the soreness is less. Dr Vanhuysen saw me again last Tuesday and reiterates that this is (simply) arthritis and that my knee is complaining (my words and translation into people talk) and he believes that I CAN run the marathon but that I will have to be more creative from here on in.
For example, I need to be stretching what he says are very tight hamstrings (posterior thigh muscles) 20 minutes every day. And I should now not just run but start either using the elliptical trainer or biking to stay fit...not just running. And if the knee is swollen or worsens, then to stop running for awhile and do alternative exercise to stay (and increase being) fit.
He even suggested that I try something called CHI running (sp?) where instead of running the standard way, where one lands on the heel first when in stride, I should try and land on my forefoot. Thus the force won't be translated onto my inner knee (where I have arthritis) but ? more to my private parts, where I have no arthritis and might even feel good (I added the last whole idea).
Anyway, I have been stretching for the last three nights and today will get back into the game on the eliptical. I have lost about 9 days on working out...
ONWARD!
Dad
As for my own training, things are going well physically--on Wednesday, Andrew and I ran about 8 miles (doubling back and up again on the hills), and it wasn't too tough, just the typical pain-in-the-ass kind of pain to overcome. But the weather in Brooklyn has been hotter and more humid than the devil's crotch, which makes it nearly impossible to run. Or to have a social life, because the only times to jog are in the very early a.m., or after 9 p.m.
In other news, and don't laugh, lately I've become mildly obsessed with this television show, "So You Think You Can Dance" (not to be confused with "Dancing With The Stars"). First of all, SYTYCD has depth, and is very artistic: the choreography is moving and gorgeous, just like the competing dancers. The judges are very insightful--they're artists themselves, real ones--and you can't help but really feel for the competitors. As a writer, I know very well what rejection feels like, as well as hope. And to see these dancers work their asses off, literally, just to be "picked" makes my heart soar and sink. It's raw and real, and as an artist, it's easy to be empathetic towards these guys.
It's also easy to be jealous. I create things by sitting and tapping plastic keys. I put together words and build narrative arcs. So watching their bodies do things I didn't know bodies could do (how does one jump that high without a trampoline?) made me a little envious, but mostly it inspired me to learn and accomplish a new set of skills. Specifically, breakdancing. And salsa. Sexy salsa, ala Dirty Dancing Havana Nights. (sidequestion: does it matter if one's partner--husband--has no rhythm?) Usually when I see things that blow my mind, I want to pick them up and learn to use them to blow minds, too. I usually try. Like the banjo. I'm buying one in September.
When I saw one of the dancers bust out some superfresh breakdancing moves, specifically the headspin, I had one of my moments. I said to myself, "I will learn to do this," and decided that after the marathon, breakdancing is going to be my next "mission." Then I realized that I'm 30. Not that 30 is old,or too old to learn how to breakdance, but still. I realized that it's sort of impossible to do some things I would've been able to do 10 years ago. That my body was getting less pliable, or that my time was shorter than it was a week ago, or 10 years ago. Or that in 10 years, it will be REALLY difficult to learn to breakdance. Or master it, at least. Or master a lot of things, because obviously it takes years to master something . . . anyway, what I'm trying to say here is that I had a bit of a sad moment: my body isn't as young as I thought I was. I was still thinking it was 18, or 23. Once you hit 30, there starts to become a bigger difference between your age and 18, which there really isn't when you're 23. Am I making any sense?
So my confidence felt a little defeated. Outsmarted by the passage of time. I mean, do you remember when you first realized that your body was a little less bendable and resilient than it used to be? Do you remember when you first saw a wrinkle on your face, or your bones started to ache (and then continued to ache in the same place from then on out)? Do you remember when you realized you were not as young as you thought you were, that you were closer to "old" than you were"young", and how much that feeling sucked, especially when the fact didn't go away? Kinda mindblowing. Kinda . . . shitty.
If you don't understand what I was feeling, just watch this and ask yourself if you think you can dance . . . like this:
I'm not sure how to shrink this video to fit on the page, sorry!
Yes, I'm 30, and yes, it's not that old. But it's still a little weird for me to be treated like a person closer to 40 than 18. For instance, the other day, some teenager called out, "Hey lady, can I pet your dog?" and I looked around for a woman with a dog. But the kid was talking to me! (Ughhh, I just called a teenager a kid. Ugghhh! See what I mean? Painful!) And after watching these 20-somethings on SYTYCD throw their bodies across the stage and fly through the air, I was like, "I bet that with a good decade of training, I could do that, too." But then I realized that even if I had a fat chunk of money in my savings account and took dance lessons from a private instructor for a decade, I still probably couldn't, because by the time ten years passed, I'd be achier and more prone to injuries. . . sort of. The bottom line is that the other day, I got really scared of getting any older, or maybe I got really afraid of dying, because there are so many things I still want to do. I want to master things--dancing, music, writing, and . . . myself. Master my self. (and no, not in a gross way.) I want to make peace with the present moment. What if as I'm taking my last breath, I'm not ready? What if the very last feeling I have is a feeling of being unsatisfied??? Yikes..
I want to breakdance. I want to learn the banjo. I want to be less grumpy, and I want to work at an animal sanctuary. I want to pout less and do my hair more often. More yoga. Less procrastination. I'm not sure that all these things will ever happen, or at least happen without any breaks in their consistency, but what I can start doing is finding some simple peace and goodness. And I'm pretty sure that it is already here, with me, and all around me. I just have to acknowledge it. I want that last moment to be a full one, and maybe, since I have no idea when that moment will come, the best way to be ready for it is to be satisfied with the present moment.
But that's a hard thing to learn to do. Probably even more difficult than figuring out how to headspin. We'll see . . .
Anyway, tomorrow is a big day, because for the first time in my life, I'll be running 13 miles, all in one attempt. With lots of breaks, I'm sure. But I'm looking forward to it. And the post-run peanut butter ice cream binge.
this is best ice cream in the entire universe.
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