[Expletive Laden Title]

Until Saturday morning I was able to count myself as one of those fortunate runners who had never suffered a running injury. Until Saturday. I really don’t have the words to describe how frustrated I am right now, but that’s only because this is a PG-13 blog and I try to avoid using words like [censored], [redacted], or mother[expletive]!

At the end of my first run of the week I noticed a twinge in the back of my right knee. I skipped my midweek run due to other commitments, although I used the aforementioned twinge to justify skipping the run. Then on a brisk Saturday morning I headed out for a 17 mile run (my longest run to date). Through the first 5 miles things were going swimmingly. I was feeling good and the pain behind my right knee was barely noticeable at all. I stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the traffic to stop. The cars stopped, the walk signal lit up, and I took off at my crosswalk pace, which is a little faster than my usual pace because there are more people watching at crosswalks. I made it two steps before wondering who was stabbing the back of my right knee with a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils. I stumbled, hopped and caught myself from falling before beginning the walk of shame. No, not that walk of shame, the runner’s walk of shame. You know, the one where people see you walking in all your running attire and know that you’re a quitter. Yeah, that was me on Saturday.

I walked for a minute, barely able to put weight on my right leg before deciding to try running again. Yes, you read that right, even though it was difficult to put weight on my right leg I thought I’d give running another try. Needless to say, it did not go well. I actually ended up calling Candis and telling asking her politely to come and pick me up so that I wouldn’t have to do the walk of shame all the way home. It sucked.

Since Saturday morning I’ve just been R.I.C.E.-ing it (Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation for those of you who aren’t ‘in the know’). Except, the Ice was really, really cold and I didn’t like that so I replaced icing my knee with drinking beer, and that seems to be just as effective at relieving my pain. And then I also modified ‘resting’ to be ‘watching football’ which is still pretty relaxing even though it often involves me raising my voice at the TV. I don’t have anything to compress my knee with either so I changed ‘compressing’ with ‘nachos’ because nachos go great with football and beer. Elevating my knee worked out OK, but I usually have my feet up when I’m watching football anyway so I changed ‘elevation’ to ‘hot-tubbing.’ Suffice it to say it was a pretty relaxing weekend, even taking into account the intermittent screaming out obscenities at my right knee, and on the plus side I did come up with a new injury recovery system for runners: F.B.N.H. which is short for Football, Beer, Nachos and Hot-tubbing. Sure, it’s not an easy to pronounce acronym like R.I.C.E. but it more than makes up for its difficult pronunciation in its enjoyment factor.

For those of you are wondering (including you Candis), no, I’m not going to see our family physician, those people are nothing more than witch doctors and voodoo specialists with their fancy cars, high priced degrees and white coats. No, I’ve always believed that laughter was the best medicine, which is why we took our kids to the circus instead of the pediatrician when it was time to get their measles, mumps, and rubella vaccination.

As if all this isn’t bad enough, the weather has been absolutely perfect for running these past few days in Colorado. I can’t tell you how many runners I’ve cursed at for having the nerve to be out running while I was injured. Have they no sense of decency? No compassion for a fellow runner? Those selfish rat-[censored] can kiss my [bleep]ing [expletive]!