Physical Therapy

I feel betrayed.

Running has betrayed me.

My body has betrayed me.

Everything that I once depended upon to get me through this life sanely is mutinying against me. Leaving me foundering in a foggy existence of strange days and lost ways. How will I emerge from this murky state?

I was pretty loyal to running. Even on days when I was really tired, when it was really cold out, or I had to get up super early in the morning to make time for it, I still did and I did it gladly. And look what it turned around and did to me. It went out of its way to make it so that I have to go virtually three weeks without being able to visit it. How could you, running?

And, my knee. Did you and running conspire to throw my life out of wack. Why, knee? I thought we had a silent agreement. OK, so maybe I was running a little too much and wearing you out a little, but all you had to do was speak up and I would have listened. I would have given you the ice and ibuprofen that you so needed and deserved. All you had to do was say something. But instead you decided to give up on me. You just gave up. Come on, man. In the words of Puff Daddy at the end of his timeless song, "Victory," "What imma do now, huh? What imma do now?"

Physical therapy, of which I just had my first session today. Hard to believe that this is my second round of physical therapy (I injured my shoulder five years ago, an injury which still hasn't totally healed). While therapy is really inconvenient, I have this hope that once my knee is healed it'll be like that movie Rookie of the Year (Daniel Stern's directorial opus) where the kid breaks his arm, it heals, and he ends up with a wicked fastball and pitches for the Cubs and gets the girl in the end. I'm setting my goals high after this folks. My plan is to win the NYC Marathon in November, rocket to rock star fame, and use the money from all the endorsements I get to write and produce a film about my experience (and then get Daniel Stern to direct it. I mean, what has he even done since the Home Alone movies?).

At least my therapist isn't that chatty. She's cool and all, I just have this thing about small talk. (I'm too shy and not good at it.) Even though a good conversation would be great during therapy to alleviate the self-consciousness of being the sad sight that one inevitably is in the therapy room. I just sometimes bring up some mindless stuff in conversation sometimes that puts people off a little. There is little separation between my written mind and my spoken mind so you can imagine, being that you are acquainted to the former at this point. While on a first date, I infamously once argued simply for the sake of arguing (and maybe because I was a little bored) that professional athletes perhaps deserved to be paid more than teachers. Needless to say, I didn't get a second date. My good friend Steph, once described me as exhausting, which I still find hilarious. Thanks, Steph.

On that note I'll stop while I'm ahead, so as not to exhaust.

Oh yea, if somebody has an in with Daniel Stern's agent please pass it along. I'm determined to get this genius working again.

Ryan