I spent a good portion of the morning at the doctors office having xrays done of my right knee. Not quite a year after originally writing this post I am once again struggling with a knee injury. Once again I am worried that my fall goal will not happen but once again I am reminded that it isn’t time to cry yet.
Written by Ann Brennan
It has been a week and I am cranky. Actually I am using cranky as a way to keep from crying because crying is the first step to giving up, giving in and admitting that this Ironman is not going to happen and I am not ready to do that.
It has been a week since I woke up with a small niggle in my right knee that gradually, over a couple of hours became a full blown, cannot-deny-it injury. With the Ironman only nine weeks away I went straight to a doctor and received what sounded like great news. If I rest it for seven to ten days I should be fine. It should get better quickly and I shouldn’t lose much fitness in that period of time. Plus, resting meant no running but I could still ride and swim.
Except, I couldn’t. I couldn’t ride because bending and unbending the knee was beyond painful. On a scale of 1-10 it was a ten and worse yet, the knee just would not unbend enough to move the pedals. Swimming seemed like an option though. But after two days of swimming I came to realize that even that was making it worse, not better.
I am trying to take comfort in the fact that it IS getting better. For the past two nights I have actually been able to sleep without waking up every time I move. The mornings have gotten a little easier and I even made it through the grocery store yesterday. Any other time these would be great signs.
But not when I am in the middle of Ironman training. Yesterday I had a 17-mile run on the books. Seventeen miles. And walking through the grocery store was an accomplishment. How in the world am I going to go from being happy that I could actually walk through the grocery store to covering the kind of distance I need to cover?
So, I am not crying yet. But I am heartbroken and scared. My husband told me yesterday that I need to be patient. It is advice I have offered others dozens of times. But I don’t have time to be patient. I don’t have time to wait this out. My Ironman is eight weeks away and I am scared.
I have put so much into this Ironman. I have worked so hard and come so far in my training and now I am waiting, waiting for some sign that the doctor really is right. That I really will get better.
I am one to preach that endurance sport is 90 percent mental. And I do believe that. But that scares me as well because this injury, at this time, is taking a mental toll. This injury is knocking me down a few pegs and leaving me with doubts just when I was beginning to feel like I “had this Ironman thing.”
So, I am not crying. I am waiting. I am holding back the tears and I am waiting.