knee pain.

I did the Tulsa Run a little over a week ago. I didn't "train", per say, but I had been running descent distances for a few months, so it didn't seem like a big deal. I think, also, that my body has the capacity to run long distances, so it's not that impressive of a feat. It wasn't incredibly difficult, as I actually thoroughly enjoy running, and a good portion of the time I was sincerely smiling. However, at about mile six or so, the knee on my right leg began to hurt. This has never happened. I sort of ignored it, thinking the pain would work itself out, and was able detach my mind from the pain, mostly, for the rest of the run. I don't think you could have convinced me to stop or not finish, so the pain that has persisted was an inevitable end, I presume. 

On Saturday evening in Florida, I decided that the best way to begin my Sunday would be with a run on the beach. I talked to Kim, a massage therapist and she told me what was likely the cause, and what to do about it in the future. And the sand, I reasoned, would not be as hard on my joints! What a brilliant way to begin my day, I thought. So I rolled out of bed early that morning, passed my brother snoozing on the couch, packed myself and my running paraphernalia into his white pick-up truck, and headed east toward the waves. I did my stretch thing, set my I-Pod to track the distance that was before me, and went for it. It was so easy to get in the groove because of what I was surrounded by, the sun rising through the clouds, and the waves to my right crashing, chasing my ankles, threatening to wash over my tennis shoes. Never mind the fact that the pain in my knee was threatening to bring tears to my eyes.  

I was sad. I stopped. I took my shoes to the car, and returned to the sand shoeless, for an incredible Sunday morning walk. I jumped over the foam that the waves created, and (daringly) ran a bit each time the tunes in my ear got a little hoppy. I stood facing the clouds, with my hands in the air. I strolled when I wanted to feel the water wash over my feet, and stood completely still when I wanted to feel those same feet sink into the sand. None of these things would I have been able to do had I been, um, run run running. 

Last night I woke up at three thirty in the morning. Part of the problem was the crazy time change thing and the fact that I experienced it in a time zone I was already foreign to. But the other part, I think, had to do with the stillness I have been lacking. It had to do with the little amount of effort I have been putting into finding time to be silent and present. This time was something I had in abundance this summer and something that's pretty invaluable to my well being.  It's found at moments when I am running, but since I had been banned from that task for an entire week, I was beginning to feel the repercussions, and my soul was feeling all clogged and dysfunctional. I was craving shit that I didn't need, and listening to those voices of insecurity that rare their head when I, somehow, forget the truth about life, and ignore the goodness around me. 

 

I was able to regain slumber, but knew when I woke, that I would need to do something about the clogs before it got even more messy. So I went for a walk. Walks seems to be some kind of natural therapy for me that get thrown to the wayside when I must choose between them and a run. But this time I didn't have a choice. And this is what I think is utterly fantastic. 

I don't care it you are spiritual or believe in God or Allah or Mother Nature, but sometimes something that exists in one or all of those things, something in the universe, has a way of bringing us back to what it is we need. On Sunday, I didn't know I needed a walk, but I didn't have a choice. And those barefoot steps on the beach were so much more fulfilling than the high I was looking to gain from my run. The pain in my knee has kept me from hurrying, from going fast, from rushing to get it over with, and brought me back to the slower pace that my entire being has been in need of. 

The sky this morning was gray, and so I went on my walk to the tune of David, last name Gray. And you know what? Due to the slower pace of things, I was was able to stop and look up and take in the sky that came through the incredible orange leaves in the oak and the yellow and green leaves adorning the maple, a reminder of the things I notice when I slow down and breathe. I found a way to walk into a bright yellow fire hydrant, a reminder of what happens when I am not paying attention to my surroundings. I currently sit here typing, my knee is currently hurting, and there is a part of me that's actually a bit thankful for that reality.