Here we go . . .

Most all of my favorite bloggers are doing posts about the end of 2007 and the rise of 2008. Last year I was wholly resistant to any sort of resolutions, I had a lifetime of failed ones behind me and it just seemed cruel to heap what was sure to be more failures upon my own head. Perhaps a committment to not setting myself up for failure WAS a victory of sorts for me. The endless cycle of failing to meet my own goals and then hating myself for it was crippling me. And it wasn't that I didn't know how to break my goals into baby steps, I did. But I would still talk myself into believing that they weren't important, that I didn't deserve them, and that none of it really mattered. And then the year would wear on and I'd internalize how worthless I was for abandoning goals which, objectively speaking, would have been good for me.

My resolutions were always centered on what I SHOULD be doing. Because I didn't think I could be happy until I was the person that I SHOULD be. A thin person. A fit person. An organized person who just straightens up and puts away and doesn't suffer from CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome - www.flylady.net). Someone who irons her clothes and NEVER NEVER fishes out something from the dirty clothes pile to wear if it doesn't smell. Someone who sends out Christmas cards and remembers birthdays with thoughtful homemade gifts. Someone who decorates appropriately and charmingly for each holiday. Someone who keeps frozen casseroles on hand for other people's tragedies. Someone who NEVER NEVER suggests a shorter book for her son to read at bedtime so that she can get back to the couch and mindless tv faster. Someone who reads for enlightenment and remembers to pray at the appointed times. Someone who doesn't go through the motions ever but always does things with intention and feeling and gratitude. Someone who loves her family unconditionally, even when they drive her mad, and shows her love and patience no matter what. Someone who doesn't get snarky and gossippy about other peoples misfortunes just because it makes herself feel a bit better knowing that other people struggle too. Because someone not at all like that doesn't DESERVE happiness. It's like in college when there was this REALLY REALLY cool class on the schedule and the description just embodied everything you were interested in and excited about but you couldn't take it without 15 horrible prerequisites or the special permission of the instructor.

So, here goes. I hereby give myself special permission. F*&K the prerequisites.

For 2008 I will laugh more. I will cry more. I'll wallow in chocolate fondue every now and then. I will try new restaurants. I will go dancing. I will make it to the finish line on March 30. I will make it to more movies and I will argue with my friends about them over coffee. I will buy myself some cute new clothes (actually, got a jump start on that yesterday). I will walk into more job interviews knowing that they'd be damn lucky to have me. I will plan my next tattoo just because I enjoy them. I will play more. I will focus on ridiculousness. I will not assume that my son's future is doomed and that I'm a terrible mother if he talks back to me. I will treat myself as I treat others. With tolerance and forgiveness. When I fail to do that, I will try again. I will live like the badass that I am.

AAAAAAARRRRRRRARRRRARRRRAAAHHHHH

Betrayal. Yesterday, Thursday, I noticed, maybe two times, a sharp pain under my right kneecap. Each time as soon as I took my weight off my right leg it went away. And since it only happened twice in an hour that included a lot of sprinting I actually forgot about it later in the day.

Today it complained more loudly. I would still get several running steps in with no problem and then . . . randomly . . . WHAMMO and I’d gasp and take my weight off quickly. So I got slower and slower, putting that right foot down more and more gingerly and letting my left leg do most of the work. It’s pretty annoyed right now. . . I can imagine my two legs arguing like kids in the back seat. “So . . . you just had to go and do something nutty to get mom’s attention and now I’VE got to be the ‘good’ leg and hold this body together!”

I can’t slip much past my bootcamp instructors and they started asking me how I was doing. I finally confessed and Jojo started giving me modified options. Backpedaling when going uphill, lunge walking instead of jumping, that sort of thing. Then Heidi checked in. And got VERY STERN with me. I started to get all whiny…. “But there’s this 8K race tomorrow . . . and I just HAVE to run it!” And Heidi threatened to come to my house. She never said what she would do at my house (and since Heidi is really cool she’d certainly be welcome anytime) but it was implied that she would bodily keep me from going to the race. She told me about her friend who experienced a “random stabbing pain” in his knee and decided to “tough it out” and run a race. He ended up with 3 surgeries and lost his ability to run EVER AGAIN.

Ok, wait a second, I’M the catastrophizer around here! I have a doctor’s appointment already scheduled on Monday. I fantasized about getting into a doctor today and being told that I was just being silly but that turned out to not be possible. I’ve iced it and taken anti-inflammatories. I started thinking that maybe I could lay low, ice a lot, take a lot of pills and “just try” tomorrow. The next time I got up from my seat it started twinging while I was just walking. It clearly is trying to get its point across.

Despair. I feel like someone has kidnapped my puppy and is dangling him over a precipice. Running and bootcamp are really the ONLY things going well in my life right now. With everything else I’m mostly just putting on a good act. If this is something that will require me to stop running for more than just a few days I . . . . I don’t know. The road is the thread keeping me together at the moment. The fear of not being able to run is crushing me.

I know I jumped in the deep end. After years of inactivity I have put my muscles through some serious abuse for which they were wholly unprepared. I think I may have diagnosed myself through Dr. Google. If I’m right the treatment involves rest, then physical therapy to strengthen the muscles that guide and hold the kneecap. And it may be chronic, something I’ll battle from here on out. But I’ll keep doing the ice, and the anti-inflammatories, and the rest and I’ll give the Dr. her say on Monday. Not going to this race tomorrow makes me feel like I’m standing myself up at the prom. Not going to the race hurts as much, if not more so, than my knee. And I know its only one race. But I’m so afraid of the possibilities. I don’t want to see the beginning of the end.