I have been rather sparse about posting lately. Partly that is because I have been whaling away at a knee which has been giving me fits.
I really have no patience with the idea of a cranky knee. I will tolerate recreant conduct from an ankle, a shoulder, an elbow, a hip, but to me a “bad knee” is the last refuge of a scoundrel. This one seems to trace back to Snowmageddon, when I recall clearly sinking into four-foot-deep drifts in a sort of lazy helical descent, through angles unrelated to any human musculoskeletal range of motion. Something set it off about ten days back and I have been wincing and stilting and holding my breath, refusing to give in. If I have to walk, I will walk. If it is sled press day, I will press. That is what wraps and braces are for.
I had the woman who gives me a massage lay into it yesterday and she did a damn fine job. I cannot tell you how much it hurt. “Anterior tibial compartment, medial bicep femoris head, lateral quadricep, a little popliteus and a big honking mess in the iliotibial band,” I said. Massage therapists are one another’s dream clients. Did I mention it hurt?
It was still ever so faintly puffy and sore when I got home from taking a teenage Goth out to dinner last night, but that’s another story, and I wrapped it in an ice pack. It felt unreliable and uncertain in the gym doing deadlifts: you know the feeling, when you have to gingerly position your leg before putting weight on it. Every so often, I would stumble or have to catch myself and a shriek would fly up from the superficial membranes of my kneecap through the thigh (no pain on compressing the kneecap, tender spots all distant from critical ligaments, but something mean as hell in the actual muscle).
While my next to last client was dressing I needed to dash upstairs to reposition a fan which was making a hell of a racket. Halfway up the staircase I stumbled and caught myself and wondered whether I had ripped something clean out of my leg, we are talking about Lamaze breathing, but there was no time to fossick about because business must be done and clients only take so long to dress.
When the gong wore off everything moved as God intended. Sore, but re-aligned.
If injured and halting, try falling up.