Baker and McMurray – part one

Running is an instinctive behaviour and a natural form of exercise.  Most people prefer walking to stay in shape.  It is generally safer and far more pleasurable.  Few people complain about a walk on the beach or to their local shops. 

 

Last year, to get fit for Brisbane’s running season, I ran about 400 kilometres from January to June.  It was repetitive, time consuming and often boring.

 

Like most regular runners, I endured a lot of pain and fatigue.  Training for a race is barely enjoyable. 

 

Still I ran.  When the body ached weakness creeps in.  My mind wants the body to stop, even for a moment.  On a long run, stopping becomes the priority because the body is craving a rest. 

 

You always run too far for your body.

 

When I am fit I can push through an eighteen or 21 kilometre run without stopping.  When I’m not fit I’ll stop for a drink, which is what the body wants, and that is how I justify it.

 

Getting fit to run half marathons doesn’t involve stopping.  Weakness must be ignored.

 

Injury, though, adds an unwanted dimension to training.  Most runners experience constant niggles and strains.  Physio is necessary.  Ice becomes a way of life, as do pressure bandages. 

 

Occasionally muscles are torn.  Injury is devastating.  It ruins ambition, lowers the mood and fuels those doubts about age and motivation.

 

Runners tend to be a determined, silly bunch of people.  Intelligence when injured is often after the fact, basic hindsight, and only when the injury worsens.

 

This year, as January ran into February, my left knee began to throb during each run, not enough to stop but pain enough to force me to go slow. 

 

I did what most runners do and ignored it.  After consecutive twelve kilometre runs in February, the knee ached for days afterwards, bad enough to put in a call to the Banyo physio.

 

The back of my knee felt like it was tearing.  It felt the same inside.  My calf muscle was swollen and decorated by fat, red lines of swelling.  Hot to touch, the swelling rebelled against pressure and ice.

 

Lawrence Townsend is a muscular, middle-aged man.  He diagnosed a medial ligament strain and a possible Baker’s cyst. 

 

‘They’re called Baker’s cysts because a lot of bakers get them from leaning over their benches,’ Laurie said.

 

A Baker’s cyst develops between the tendons and muscles at the back of the knee.  Occasionally the cyst ruptures, producing acute pain behind the knee and swelling in the calf muscles.

 

The pain I felt in January had to be due to a ruptured cyst. 

 

The medial ligament runs on the inside of the leg.  If you put your knees together, the medial ligaments will touch.  Laurie wanted to know how the injury occurred.

 

‘Did you jar your knee or twist suddenly?’

 

Laurie looked doubtful when I said no.  He ordered a week off running and leg straightening exercises, done in repetitions of fifty.

 

After doing the exercises my knee hurt.  Straitening my leg was painful.  Walking was accompanied by a limp.  Turning to my right caused a horrid sensation, like something was tearing.

 

Kristine researched Baker’s cysts and suggested they rarely occur alone.  They usually form a painful partnership with another injury. 

 

‘The cyst might’ve been caused by the medial ligament strain,’ she said.  ‘But they’re usually caused by a meniscus tear.’

 

Within a week, though, the pain was gone cyst didn’t cause any further issues.  I went to see Laurie and told him I was going to run.  He didn’t charge me for the appointment.

 

The next two months were frustrating.  I ran plenty, all short runs, three to seven kilometres.  Consistency was curtailed by pain.  If I ran twice in three days, I had two days of pain.  Often the pain stretched longer.

 

I took three weeks off in March, went running again and the same cycle emerged.  Each time I went for a run I left in hope.  The knee ached.  When I hobbled around at home, Kristine shook her head.

 

Runners feed off bravado and ego.  We run to achieve, and achievement is made better by bragging about it.  There is no doubt regular runners enjoy narcissism.  The medals don’t lie.  Success and failure is spread to friends and family.

 

Injury kills the narcissism.  Why run otherwise?

 

Injury also makes the mind believe things the body isn’t lying about.  I thought my injury was a medial ligament strain.  Having never suffered a knee injury, I had no prior reference.  But two months after Laurie diagnosed a two week injury, the pain was worse, the knee a little swollen and running was futile.

 

Still I ran, because I thought my knee was fine and my mind was playing tricks on me.  Psychologically, I figured I didn’t really want to run anymore and I was imagining the pain and swelling.  I ran against advice from Kristine and a mate Andy.  Both said not to do anymore harm.

In May I went for a six kilometre run and came home pain free.  I texted Andy, might be a late entry for the half marathon.  Later that night Kristine took a photo of me smiling, with ice on my knee.

 

When Andy saw the photo he sent an email, that knee looks sore.  Having had two knee reconstructions, Andy understands knee pain, hence his caution.

 

The knee was okay for a few days, but that weekend I twisted to my right and a knife went through my knee.  Swearing didn’t reduce the pain.  Kristine said no more running.  I went anyway, reassuring her that if I ran in a straight line I’d be fine.

 

The knee was swollen.  You had to look hard but it was there.  The Gold Coast half marathon beckoned.  All I had to do was run.

 

A week later, when I made an appointment with Laurie, I expected Kristine to give me a slow hand clap.

 

Laurie doesn’t waste time or mess around.  He wraps up an hour appointment in twenty minutes.  After listening to my complaint, he told me to lose the tracksuit pants and lay down.  He held the knee with one hand and my foot with the other then rotated the leg and extended the knee, asking if there was any pain.

 

There wasn’t.

 

Laurie rotated again, trying to feel for a click in the knee, which indicates a tear in the meniscus.  I didn’t feel a click.  He twisted my leg the other way, asking if there was any pain, then bought my heel close to my buttocks and found it. 

 

It felt like he broke my knee.  The pain was obvious, the yelp embarrassing.

 

‘Sorry,’ Laurie said.  ‘But I had to find it.’  He had another go and found it again.  My knee was aching.

 

Laurie put my leg down and stepped away from the table.  ‘I think you’ve got a torn meniscus,’ he said.  ‘In February I thought it was your medial ligament but I think it’s a torn meniscus.’

 

I had never heard about a torn meniscus until Corey McKernan was injured in round 19, 1997.  McKernan needed an arthroscopy but was playing three weeks later.

 

‘What does that mean?’  I figured if McKernan needed surgery, I would too.

 

‘If it’s a torn meniscus it will need surgery,’ Laurie said.  ‘This is not a wear and tear injury,’ He was frowning, arms crossed.  ‘Meniscus tears are caused by impact.  Can you remember anything like that?’

 

‘The only time my knee really hurt was behind the knee and afterwards when I picked Angus up,’ I said.  ‘It also hurt when I carried him in the harness.’

 

Laurie was shaking his head.  ‘Meniscus tears don’t happen when you pick up a baby,’ he said.  ‘They need an impact or collision.  You must’ve noticed it.’

 

I shrugged. 

 

‘I’ll write you a referral for an MRI scan.’ Without asking about finances Laurie sent me to Savage X-Ray.  According to Laurie, they are the cheapest. 

 

Despite the diagnosis and a referral for an MRI scan, Laurie didn’t charge me.

 

Later that night, Kristine researched the McMurray test.  It is named after Thomas Porter McMurray, a British orthopaedic surgeon who practised a hundred years ago.  McMurray was ahead of his time.

 

An MRI scan was $195.  I made an appointment.  Medicare provided no refund.

 

When the radiologist called me, I wondered out loud about my reason for being there.  ‘My knee feels okay at the moment.’

 

‘That’s because you haven’t been running, right?’ he said.  The radiologist was a heavy man about my age.

 

I nodded.

 

‘It just means you’re getting old,’ he said.  I smiled.  Half a dozen people had already told me that.

 

We went into the room.  After lying down, my left leg was put in a brace.  The room was cold and dim.  The scan would take twenty minutes.  The radiologist gave me earmuffs to block out the clunks.

 

The MRI makes a lot of noise.  It sounds like construction work.

 

Later that night Kristine opened the envelope looking for a report.  There was none.  She lifted a scan.

 

‘I can’t read it,’ she said. 

 

I couldn’t either.  My knee felt okay but I still couldn’t touch my heel on buttock.  I was craving for a run, just one, just three kilometres around the block.

 

‘Don’t do it,’ Kristine said.

 

 

Pride Cup results:

 

81	Adam G (4)
80	Kristine (5)
79	Russ (4), Matt (4), Anne (4)
77	Sandra (4)
76	Stevo (4)
75	Wayne (4), Andy (3)
74	The Pole (3)
73	Matt B (4)
72	Adam L (3)
71	James (4)
68	Dallas (2)
64	Jim (2)
62	George (2)

 

Comments