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jayfurrI went to the gym last night and ran another 5K. I didn't have a noticeable improvement in my ability to maintain a running speed for all 25 laps, but I didn't have to walk any more than I did this weekend. And I finished in 29:57 or so. Still under 30 minutes, but only just.
My left knee was feeling a bit stiff when I finished, but I grabbed my gear and jumped in the car and drove home. When I got home, I had a very rude surprise: my knee hurt. It mainly hurt if I tried to put any weight on it -- if I hopped on my right leg it was mostly okay, but straightening it out and planting weight on my left leg caused no end of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH" moments.
I took ibuprofen and Carole brought me an ice pack, but even after icing it for a half hour it didn't feel better at all. I took a hot bath because I was still sweaty from the run and my knee felt better while in the tub, but then went right back to hurting afterward when I tried to shamble from the tub back to the bedroom.
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caroleotter made the most of the opportunity to mock me, asking if I needed to be taken to the emergency room and stuff. I kept telling her "It'll be fine in the morning." Carole tends to over-dramatize things when she's ill or stiff or sore, no matter how much TLC and help I give her, and on occasion I've had to do the whole "if it hurts so much I guess we'll just have to CUT IT OFF" thing that moms sometimes do.
Unfortunately, she doesn't get that I'm only doing that to gently hint that she's gone, um, above and beyond the call of what's appropriate for a given situation. There's only so much I can do to make her comfortable when she's feeling achy or sick, after all.
So: when the shoe was on the other foot, she thought "Hot damn! Payback time!"
Sigh.
Denouement: my knee feels more or less fine this morning. I can tell that it was sore in that lingering-aftereffect kind of way, but it's certainly nothing I can't walk on. I'm at work and not at the emergency room. Carole (of course) then had to marvel out loud that my knee couldn't have been that bad if it could be all better today.
Some folks just don't have empathy. My dear wife is, unfortunately, one of 'em.
My left knee was feeling a bit stiff when I finished, but I grabbed my gear and jumped in the car and drove home. When I got home, I had a very rude surprise: my knee hurt. It mainly hurt if I tried to put any weight on it -- if I hopped on my right leg it was mostly okay, but straightening it out and planting weight on my left leg caused no end of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH" moments.
I took ibuprofen and Carole brought me an ice pack, but even after icing it for a half hour it didn't feel better at all. I took a hot bath because I was still sweaty from the run and my knee felt better while in the tub, but then went right back to hurting afterward when I tried to shamble from the tub back to the bedroom.
caroleotter made the most of the opportunity to mock me, asking if I needed to be taken to the emergency room and stuff. I kept telling her "It'll be fine in the morning." Carole tends to over-dramatize things when she's ill or stiff or sore, no matter how much TLC and help I give her, and on occasion I've had to do the whole "if it hurts so much I guess we'll just have to CUT IT OFF" thing that moms sometimes do. Unfortunately, she doesn't get that I'm only doing that to gently hint that she's gone, um, above and beyond the call of what's appropriate for a given situation. There's only so much I can do to make her comfortable when she's feeling achy or sick, after all.
So: when the shoe was on the other foot, she thought "Hot damn! Payback time!"
Sigh.
Denouement: my knee feels more or less fine this morning. I can tell that it was sore in that lingering-aftereffect kind of way, but it's certainly nothing I can't walk on. I'm at work and not at the emergency room. Carole (of course) then had to marvel out loud that my knee couldn't have been that bad if it could be all better today.
Some folks just don't have empathy. My dear wife is, unfortunately, one of 'em.
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'fessing up...
Date: 2011-03-02 10:18 pm (UTC)I guess I was being a little more clueless than empathic last night. There are times when The Snark Is Strong In This One, and one of those times is most evenings after 9 p.m.
I think I was waffling between two theories about Jay's behavior: Either he was hurt really badly, in which case he was being a macho dummy to deny he needed medical attention; or he *wasn't* hurt really badly, in which case he didn't need to be going AAAAARGH quite so loudly. In either case, I guess I decided I needed to snark.
I *was* relieved it was fine in the morning. I was convinced he had something like a torn tendon; I guess it was just a muscle spasm after all.