Stupid Knee

I recently had a conversation with my left knee that went like this:

Me: "Hello old chap, I should like very much to increase forthwith my weekly mileage in ye olde sport of running. What sayest thou?"

Left Knee: "No."

Me: "Tough titties. I will now run three 10k runs per week with an additional two 5ks betwixt."

Left Knee: *EXPLODE*

So my knee exploded about three weeks ago and I'm now limping around like a pirate but without all the fun of a talking parrot, eye patch or barrel of rum. Here is what a knee looks like according to science:

The areas aptly designated OUCHIES! and AAARRRRGH WHYYYYY! are giving me the most trouble. According to the always accurate and reassuring internet diagnosis, I either have deadly knee cancer with one week to live or I have a mild case of tendonitis and I need to quit running for a bit until it feels better.

Unfortunately, running is the one activity that keeps me sane after staring at a computer all day so the last week of no running has got me kind of stabby. For example, I drove to the grocery store last week and, as usual, some idiot had left a shopping cart in the middle of a parking space in a busy lot instead of walking 18 feet to the cart receptacle. This was the only spot open that wasn't located in the next county so I stopped the car, moved the cart to the small grassy island to the left, got back in the car and parked in the spot. While getting out of the car the second time I was fumbling for the grocery list in my jeans pocket and unwittingly opened the car door into the cart. Hard.

This is one of those times when you're supposed to go to your happy place, count to ten or pray to baby Jesus for strength, but since I am a terrible human being, I got angry instead and let the rage flow through me like what happens to the bad guys on Star Wars, sans lighting bolts. I got out of the car, picked up the shopping cart and carried it in front of me as if it were a large box. I waddled over to the line of carts queued up in front of the store and slammed the cart into the pile as loudly and curmudgeonly a possible. Why didn't I push the cart as designed? Because anger demands that you do not use things as they are intended. For example, if your are trying to remove a stuck bolt and you strip it with a wrench, you are required to use the wrench as a hammer to smash the bolt while swearing. It's the law. Anyway, I think I showed some restraint since my original plan had been to lift the cart over my head and skulk around the lot until some subhuman abandoned another cart and then beam them, but good.

So, uh, I guess I'm a little on edge without the whole running thing. Maybe I need to take up yoga or knitting or something. On second thought though, I might abuse those giant knitting needles if Joann's Fabrics runs out of #304 Astrakhan Persimmon.

Yoga it is then.