Will You #RunforCharleston?

If you’ve been following my little corner of the blogoworld for the past few months, then you know what I’ve been dealing with having #brokeknee.  Now that I’ve been officially cleared to run again – can I get an amen – I found it rather ironic timing that I stumbled across this post from Abby over at Back at Square Zero just as I was making a painful, but victorious, return to the pavement.  Sometimes I think the runner gods really have their poop together.

RunforCharleston_thumb

One of my favorite things about the running community is the amazing ability to come together when tragedy strikes.  The senseless, brutal killings of nine people – in their place of worship no less – touched the hearts of people worldwide.  And as always seems to happen when tragedy hits us where it hurts the most, we band together and show hate that it has no place in sports, especially in running.

no hate

I have family in Charleston.  They’ve only lived there for a short time, but have fallen completely in love with the city, the people, and the charm that encompasses southern hospitality.  Their Facebook and Instagram feeds make me want to drop whatever I’m doing, throw the Wonder Mutt in the truck, and hit the road north, if for no other reason than to hang out in Waterfront Park and watch the world go by.  And maybe run a few miles while I’m at it.

Which brings me to the point of this particular ramble.  Join Abby, and me, and hopefully many, many other running peeps, and become a part of something bigger than yourself.  Make your RUNNING something bigger than yourself.  If not, then really….what’s the point?

This is such a no-brainer, the Wonder Mutt could even explain it to you.  Run nine miles, one for each person who died.  Do them all at once, or one at a time, whatever you want.  When you’ve done them all, donate $9 to the Mother Emanuel Hope Fund.  The funds will go to various organizations that were near and dear to the Pastor Pinkney’s heart.  Of course, you can always donate whatever your heart tells you to.

Let’s see how much we can flood social media with #RunforCharleston hashtags and help those less fortunate.

Hate tears us apart.

Let running bring us together.

no hate

Enjoy the ride.

If you’re looking for donation information, please see below.  Once again, thank you to Abby from Back at Square Zero for sharing this information.  Be sure to check out her blog!

“The Mother Emanuel Hope Fund has been created to benefit the families of the victims of the shooting at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC.”

To donate, text “PrayforCharleston” to (843)606-5995,
or go to http://bidr.co/events/prayforcharleston

Donations by check can be mailed to the following address:
Mother Emanuel Hope Fund
C/O City of Charleston
P.O. Box 304
Charleston, SC 29402

Will you run for Charleston?

What To Do, What To Do

I know I owe you guys an update on the soap opera that has become my knee injury – which I know you’ve just been SO excited to find out about, right? NOT – but if we’re gonna roll with that story, then I might as well regale you with the total excitement of the situation.  You.  In the back.  Quit snoring.  This is cool stuff.

MRI 1

See? Cool stuff. I know, I know….not so much.

Hang on anyway, because I’m going to need your input here.

Remember when The Man sent me for MRI #2?  In case you’re hung over and not exactly comprehending stuff today, that’s what you see here.  Cool stuff, right?  I THINK SO.  Anywho, no big surprise, I’ve got chondromalacia in this knee too.  YEAH, NO KIDDING.  *As a side note, the guy who was scanning me, (hehehe, no worries, hubs was standing right next to him while I was getting scanned), noticed that I have a hole in my shin bone (see arrow).  While sadly, that isn’t the cause of all my troubles, I think it’s a neat little bit of useless trivia.

“I’ll take useless trivia for $800 Alex.”

“For $800.  What would you find if you performed an MRI on Black Dog’s right knee?”

Jeopardy

Yes, one day Black Dog parts will make it to national television.

Where was I again?  Oh yeah, The Man.  So he calls me a few days after the scan, tells me about the chono, chrondo, WHATEVER it is I’ve got going on in there, and tells me he’s going to have me see his partner – from here on out known as The Man #2 – for a consult and possible – wait for it – “arthroscopic debridement.”  Sounds pretty damn impressive, doesn’t it?  I THINK SO.

elmo

“Ooooooohhhhh, impressive.”

So while I wait to go see The Man #2, I have a quandry on my hands.  My personal voices of reason – Kellie, Nicole, Lisa, and Rae – have already weighed in and told me I was out of my mind to even THINK about running again.  Hubs and I see it this way – how much more damage can I do getting a couple of runs in over the next couple of weeks, since not running at all since November hasn’t done squat to make things any better?  Now, I’m not talking heading out for any 10 milers, just a couple of easy 2-3 mile jaunts.  Such is my current conundrum.

thinking baby

Canun, conan, co what???

This is where you come in.  Do I keep on faking it on a bike, or do I dust off the Brooks and go back to my happy place, even if it is only temporarily?  (We’re only talking until my next appointment in about a week, when we find out about possible surgery).  I’m curious to see what you all think.  And also see how fast I can actually go when I have to run away from my own personal Jiminy Crickets when they come screaming after me – right ladies?

Princesses1

 

Enjoy the ride.

Let me know where you weigh in on the debate – stick to the bike or hit the road?  Do you think I’d be an idiot to satisfy my severely depleted mileage addiction?  Let’s hear it!

I Think I’m Going To Be Sick

Sick?  Okay.  Injured?  Yeah.  Over it.  Thank you nervous stomach.  Appreciate it…

Kill me now.

Kill me now.

I’m sure all these nerves are for nothing, but that’s just how I’m rolling these days when it comes to my knee prognosis.  Three months ago, after a beyond disastrous Wine and Dine, The Man was finally able to determine what was up my knees dupa. (Sounds kind of anatomically questionable, doesn’t it?)  Anywho, he told me to get the spring-loaded, thankGodIfoundsomenotsoscary orthopedic shoes, stop running, start walking, and don’t even think about basically doing ANYTHING I was doing in the gym before, i.e., no lunges, squats, jumping, square dancing, or full contact sweater knitting.

Don't even think about it.

Don’t even think about it.

Fast forward three months when I’m supposed to go back and see The Man about the next step.  Which is TODAY (gulp!).  I’ve been trying not to make myself crazy about what he’s going to say – “trying” being the key word here.  I’ve got myself so worked up that he’s going to axe any future running, that I’m making myself completely crazy.  Which is very unlike me.  The getting worked up part.  Not the crazy part.  We already know that’s totally me.

Nope. Not even close.

Nope. Not even close.

The left knee – that was bothering me the most the last time I went to see The Man – has been feeling MUCH better.  The right knee, which has totally made me its bitch for almost two years now, has other ideas in mind.  Like aching.  All the time.  Which I could easily tolerate, and have.  QUITE OFTEN.  Until said pain-in-my-ass anatomical location decides to vault itself out of ache zone and jump full throttle into the, “So you think you’re going to get a sub 2-hour half do you?  DO YOU?  I THINK NOT” zone.  That really pisses me off.  A LOT.

This is my mad face.

See?  Pissed off.  A lot.

As I sit here typing this though, I know there’s not a damn friggin’ thing I can do about what The Man is going to say.  I think the options may be let’s give it some more time, maybe try some PT, start back slow and with low mileage and see how it goes, go balls to the wall and see what happens – MY favorite option but obviously an unwise decision – or, the worst words EVER – run no more. #dunhdunhduuuuuuunnnhhhhhh…

This is my REALLY mad face.

This is my REALLY mad face.

No matter how much of a freak-out I’m having or however much sleep I lose tonight, the outcome will be what it’s going to be.  I am just going to spend the next however many hours praying to the run and knee gods, and hope my sacrifices and temper tantrums over the past few years months have been enough to get me to a better place.  Because this whole I’mjustgoonadrinkalltheritasandeatalltheMooseTracks treatment plan is starting to do a number on me.  And my waistline.  Not to mention my liver.  Must be the size of a darn watermelon by now…(not really but it sounded funny, didn’t it?)

Oh how I HATE when that happens.

Damn ceiling lights…

Stay strong my friends.  You may need it to keep me from  going off the ledge.

 Enjoy the ride.

Ever found yourself holding your breath while waiting the doc’s prognosis?  Did you pass out?  Was oxygen intervention needed?  Should I bring a paper bag with me?  E-GADS.

Here We Go. Again.

So today’s the day.  I THINK.  As I write this, I STILL don’t know if my visit to The MAN has been approved by my insurance company.  Because GOD FORBID I go see The MAN without their approval.  Apparently, that could end the universe as we know it with earthquaking, dream-shattering, lifeasweknowitwillcometoacrashinghaltwithfireandscreamingcatsanddogsrainingdownfromtheheavens kind of consequences.  You know?

Oh the HORROR!

Oh the HORROR!

Even though my insurance company was called a WEEK ago about this, they still haven’t given it the official thumbs up.  Note I said a WEEK AGO.  No wonder my blood pressure is gaining momentum in an upwardly direction.  As it’s a bit of a PITA to get the time off from work to actually go and see The MAN – because why would any doctor EVER think to have office hours after 3pm? – I had to make some alternate scheduling changes in order to do what I have to get done at work and still be able to go The MAN.  And once again, Big Brother insurance company is taking their sweet time deciding whether or not they will allow it.  Of course, I would still go anyway, and pay for it myself, but really now.  Why should I?  Isn’t that what I pay THEM for every month?

Aspirin?  Not without a referral!

Aspirin? Not without a referral!

Okay.  Now that I have THAT out of my system, (stay tuned right here to BDRD for what may turn out to be one hell of an update!), let’s move on shall we?

The hubs, who is kind enough to be accompanying me on my little trip into OrthoLand, threw this one out at me last night. “Are you prepared if the doctor says NOT to run your race next weekend?”  This of course, was followed by my very best Scooby-Doo imitation.

Huuuuh???

Huuuuh???

What???  NOT run the Wine and Dine???  Why would he EVER say THAT?!?  I just ran 10 miles on Sunday!  Am I sore?  Of COURSE I am…it was 10 MILES!  But I got through it – relatively pain-free, (at least for me) – and I’m ready to make this Wine and Dine my bee-yatch!  Especially in the company of Kellie and Nicole, who I know will be looking out for my every running need.  You know, like singing the harmonies to Let it Go, seeing who we can make pee their pants first from laughing too hard, and utilizing the ever-popular Cupcake On A Fishing Pole trick to pick up the pace just a wee bit.  Because we ALL need BRF’s like THAT!

This is what came up when I Googled fishing pole cupcakes. For realz.

This is what came up when I Googled fishing pole cupcakes. For realz. Get on it Princess Lisa!

I guess maybe KNOW the thought of not running never entered my mind.  And NOT running the W&D just AIN’T GONNA HAPPEN.  Even if we end up keeping the Balloon Ladies company for the entire trip, that’d be A-Okey-Dokey by me.  It just means we’d be wicked late to the party, but I honestly don’t think it will come down to that.  Even if Nicole’s NYC Marathon-spent legs can barely move, I think we’ll still finish in PLENTY of time to enjoy the festivities.  Let’s be honest shall we?  Who actually runs this race for any reason OTHER than the after-party???

Nope. No fun. Clearly.

Nope. No fun. Clearly.

So we shall see what The MAN has to say later today.  I don’t THINK he’s going to say not to run next weekend, but even if he does, you can pretty much bank on me completely ignoring THAT particular little bit of medical advice.  Now, AFTER next weekend may be a different story.  I just have to keep in mind – as will The MAN – that I have another half coming up, but not until February.  So what he thinks I should do between November 9th and February 15th, will more than likely be a whole different story.  I just may actually listen to him.  After all – he is The MAN.  And if The MAN can get professional multi-million dollar athletes back to making their multi millions of dollars, than I’m pretty confident he can get little ol’ Black Dog back on the road again.  Only difference is, I have to actually pay TO run.  Hmmmmm, I may have to rethink this whole race entry fee thing.  Seriously, when’s the last time these guys paid to race?

Gotta love sponsors!

Gotta love sponsors!

Enjoy the ride.

Ever had to choice between your health and paying for it yourself?  Does that not drive you COMPLETELY insane?  If Disney race entry fees weren’t so crazy, would you enter more of them?