I have five acres, heavily wooded. We built our dream house on it, more forward in the property plat. We have identified over a dozen varieties of trees, half of which are different oaks. Our woods are thick, yet I want us to use all the property without compromising habitats for the deer, rabbits, raccoons, and other creatures of the forest which pass through our land.
I know, funny intro to a running post. I introduce this post with the above because it is plain that injuries affect more than running. I love the idea of creating trails in our woods, creating sitting areas with minimal impact, in short, creating a minimalist park in our woods to be enjoyed by all who visit and the creatures who have used it. I cannot do any of that now because the injury still nags at me.
I have regained full mobility in lifting the heel, with only the smallest amount of discomfort (still not normal). Lifting my knee, on the other hand, cannot be done without pain, but at least it is not a sharp pain. Walking about the house or the flatwork outside can be done without noticing any pain or discomfort. Going beyond that, hitting the slopes on the property or walking uneven terrain, and yes, the knee region starts talking.
Yesterday I engaged in two activities: sowing native grasses on the slopes around the house and attending the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo (HLS&R). Sowing the buffalo, little bluestem, and blue grama grasses involved walking up and down steep slopes, and often encountering soft soils (I sunk in the mud a little ways at times). The HLS&R involved walking stadium ramps and climbing stadium stairs. The knee told me all about it, lecturing most of the drive home, and nagged me as I got out of the car. It has been a bit agitated this morning.
Most of the time, I do not notice that I am still injured, and my mind starts planning to get back to training, to get back to tending the woods. I am not healed yet, and that is frustrating. Sure, I could go ahead and push these things now, but then I will be constantly stopping to recover, and eventually and likely, cause greater injury. The challenge of feeling better, but still being limited, forces patience, demands your intellect continually persuade the rest of one's mind and body what it does not wish to hear: You are healing, don't ruin it, don't make it worse, take only what the body will give you without injury-related pain -- healing takes T-I-M-E.