Okay, okay. I should be more specific, you're right.
Anyway. I conferred with pal/coworker/knee injury sufferer Connie about the way my knee felt post run. Knee had been cranky for a while before the run--and yes, I use the term "run" loosely--but after the run, Knee had turned downright vitriolic. I told Connie that I didn't want to go to the walk-in clinic; Knee's behavior, while unpleasant, was hardly emergent. I certainly didn't want to see my primary care physician; not only am I not terribly delighted with my PCP but I don't know that she is all that well-versed in sports medicine.
Sports. Heh. Yeah, I'm all about sports, aren't I?
But as I was saying. Orthopedics seemed the way to go, but...come on. It wasn't that serious. So I presented my thoughts to Connie.
"How long has it been hurting?" she asked.
"Mmm...a while now, maybe a few weeks."
"Go to ortho," she replied.
"But it's not terrible--"
"Go to ortho."
"I don't want to be one of those morons--"
"No. Go to ortho."
So I did. I went to ortho, prepared to have the PA look at me and roll his eyes and show me something stupid that I was doing, or not doing. I got ninety-five billion x-rays [okay, maybe six different views] and then met a fairly pleasant fellow who looked at my pictures and said, "Okay. Well, you have..."
Wait for it.
No, no. Go ahead. Laugh. Everyone else has. And who can blame you, really?
Evidently, the width of my sizable hips and lack of inner thigh strength have conspired to yank my kneecap out of alignment, thus irritating the crap out of Knee and causing its lamentable behavior and foul language. Solution to this problem? Physical therapy. With a non-perky therapist named Josh. And in the meantime. No lunges. No crouching or kneeling. And...
Wait for it.
Hi, Cloud. Meet Silver Lining.