More reasons I'll never be a four star general
I don’t go to the doctor very often (except for routine stuff), but when I do, the absolute last thing I want to hear is “you’re fine, there’s nothing wrong.”
It’s not like I want to be told I’m dying, but generally speaking, it takes me a while to convince myself that I’m not just imagining the symptoms and that they won’t go away on their own.
So ideally, any visit to a doctor would go like this:
“So, Naomi, what seems to be the problem?”
[Insert description here.]
“Ah hah. Those symptoms — which are in no way your fault or exacerbated by choices you have made — in fact are very serious. They are certainly not life-threatening and are easily cured, but would have been made worse by ignoring them. You were exactly right to come in today.”
And then I would get a shiny gold star, and my report card would have an A+, and everybody would cheer.
Yeah, I’m tooootally normal.
Anywho…
So on Monday night, I headed out to the sports clinic to see someone about my knee trouble. I’m not actually sure if the guy I saw was a doctor (of the MD sort), a physical therapist, a chiropractor, or just some guy in scrubs they pulled in off the street. But the receptionist called him doctor, and the Team in Training folks recommended the clinic, and they were offering a free screening to TNT participants, which they were scheduling at last week’s marathon training clinic, so I was reasonably sure I was getting sound medical advice and not joining a cult. And the Kool-aid was very refreshing.
And the doc, as nearly as possible, followed the script above.
Well, first he scoffed loudly and repeatedly at the fabulous running shoes I bought, and rolled his eyes twice (the second time was on purpose in case I missed it the first time, he said) at the concept of a store saleswoman diagnosing my over-pronation or lack thereof from watching me walk.
But then he pushed at my knee from various angles, asking me if it hurt, and he was quickly mmhmmm-ing and saying, “good.” And then he made me stand in bare feet, at which point he said, “yup”, and asked me if I knew was over-pronating was.
Y’all, it’s not that I don’t have arches. I just don’t know how to use them. But it’s not my fault, because it’s a structural thing. He even forced my feet into the proper position, to show me how much my feet really don't do that naturally.
So I’m getting me some orthotics (as extreme as they come, apparently), which will make my knees stop hurting when I run. Yay!
Of course, the downside is that, because it was a free screening, the dude couldn’t actually prescribe anything, so I have to go back tomorrow to be officially fitted. At 7 am. Gah.
It’s not like I want to be told I’m dying, but generally speaking, it takes me a while to convince myself that I’m not just imagining the symptoms and that they won’t go away on their own.
So ideally, any visit to a doctor would go like this:
“So, Naomi, what seems to be the problem?”
[Insert description here.]
“Ah hah. Those symptoms — which are in no way your fault or exacerbated by choices you have made — in fact are very serious. They are certainly not life-threatening and are easily cured, but would have been made worse by ignoring them. You were exactly right to come in today.”
And then I would get a shiny gold star, and my report card would have an A+, and everybody would cheer.
Yeah, I’m tooootally normal.
Anywho…
So on Monday night, I headed out to the sports clinic to see someone about my knee trouble. I’m not actually sure if the guy I saw was a doctor (of the MD sort), a physical therapist, a chiropractor, or just some guy in scrubs they pulled in off the street. But the receptionist called him doctor, and the Team in Training folks recommended the clinic, and they were offering a free screening to TNT participants, which they were scheduling at last week’s marathon training clinic, so I was reasonably sure I was getting sound medical advice and not joining a cult. And the Kool-aid was very refreshing.
And the doc, as nearly as possible, followed the script above.
Well, first he scoffed loudly and repeatedly at the fabulous running shoes I bought, and rolled his eyes twice (the second time was on purpose in case I missed it the first time, he said) at the concept of a store saleswoman diagnosing my over-pronation or lack thereof from watching me walk.
But then he pushed at my knee from various angles, asking me if it hurt, and he was quickly mmhmmm-ing and saying, “good.” And then he made me stand in bare feet, at which point he said, “yup”, and asked me if I knew was over-pronating was.
Y’all, it’s not that I don’t have arches. I just don’t know how to use them. But it’s not my fault, because it’s a structural thing. He even forced my feet into the proper position, to show me how much my feet really don't do that naturally.
So I’m getting me some orthotics (as extreme as they come, apparently), which will make my knees stop hurting when I run. Yay!
Of course, the downside is that, because it was a free screening, the dude couldn’t actually prescribe anything, so I have to go back tomorrow to be officially fitted. At 7 am. Gah.
posted by Noames at 11:27 AM
1 Comments:
I just ran across your blog. This comment isn't about your current post (although I do enjoy your writing style). It's about your goal.
You can do this. I know you can. In August 2003 I was fat and seriously out of shape. I couldn't run two miles at 13 min/mile. For a variety of reasons I decided to run a marathon. It seemed impossible but I started training anyway. The universe was helpful. Not. Right after I started training I caught the whooping cough. Then I had an emergency operation for appendicitis. I experienced a knee injury (ITB syndrome) and faced innumerable other obstacles including a bad reaction to a wasp sting and horrid weather. All of my runs were alone. On hills. Steep hills. But I never flagged in the pursuit of my goal. On October 2004 I ran 26.2 miles at 10.25 min/mile. I could have gone faster but I was enjoying the day, dancing, talking to locals, taking pics with my wife and kid, etc. I did the impossible and I enjoyed every step! So as I said in the beginning, you can do this. You just have to want to do it. (BTW, Alaska is a cool choice!)
Good luck!
BD1
www.livejournal.com/~bd1
Post a Comment
<< Home