A few days ago I did something to my left leg. My doctor thinks I twisted my knee, but I am not sure when, or how. I’m guessing it probably happened while I was on the treadmill.
Whatever the cause, the leg hurts most of the time. Sometimes it is a throb, sometimes it is a sharper pain, and sometimes it is a dull ache that feels like I could “crack” the leg and stop the ache. Unfortunately, movements that attempt to achieve the desired cracking don’t have any effect, and the ache remains. Standing up is not a problem, but my walking stride is a bit gimpy. It’s also tough to find a sitting position that is comfortable, and it’s difficult to get a good night’s sleep, too.
My doctor prescribed taking ibuprofen and inactivity, and I’ve been following his instructions. I feel like the leg is gradually getting better, but it’s a slow process–much slower than I would like. As I wait for the leg to get back to normal, I reflect on the mental impact of pain, and how you don’t really think about pain when you aren’t experiencing it, but when you are experiencing it, it is hard to think of anything else. And I have two other thoughts. First, I have greatly increased admiration for the recuperative powers of professional athletes. And second, I wish I knew what I did to cause this condition, but I would like to make absolutely sure that I never do it again.