Nothing ruins ambition like injury. In January 2013 I injured my left knee during a run. I don’t remember the moment it happened. It was just sore afterwards.
I did the sensible thing and ignored it. On subsequent runs, the pain disappeared after a couple of kilometres and wasn’t too bad the following day.
Days after surgery...
On February 9, a 12 kilometre run left me with a knife in the back of my knee and an arrow embedded in front. Ice didn’t help. The next day an injury was obvious. I kept running. Why dream otherwise?
By March, getting up or twisting to the right sent a sickening wave into my belly. Picking up Angus hurt. Walking hurt. I went to see Laurie, the local physio. His diagnosis, a strained medial ligament, needed two weeks rest and a set of exercises.
By the end of April I was still running sore. The exercises left me sore. I went back to Laurie. He applied a McMurray test, twisting the knee in various angles until I yelped.
‘You’ve got a torn meniscus and a Baker’s Cyst at the back of your knee,’ he said. He advised surgery, said I’d be running two weeks later and wrote a referral to a knee specialist at Nundah.
I researched the McMurray test. When the knee is twisted the cartilage rubs together, causing a click or pain. I’d failed the test, which meant I had a 97% chance of having a tear.
A Baker’s Cyst is usually collateral damage from another injury, like a meniscus tear. The swelling causes a cyst, which can burst and spurt fluid into the joint.
A week later, the Nundah knee specialist tested me McMurray style and apologised for the pain. As he wrote a referral for an MRI scan, he offered a resigned smile.
‘I’m sick of telling young men they need a reconstruction.’
I smiled too, because he thought I was a young man.
The results of the scan went to Laurie. He told me I needed surgery.
I’m 43. A back injury prevents me from playing competitive sport. Running is all I have. It isn’t easy but I enjoy it. After running six half marathons in 2011-12, last year was supposed to be year of the marathon.
It was a natural progression. I was going to run at the Gold Coast with my mates. But injury would wreck my mate’s plans too.
Andy, despite two knee reconstructions, has run two marathons. He broke his little toe and came back too soon, breaking it again and almost needed surgery. Gary couldn’t overcome a calf injury and in Melbourne, Paul was nursing Osteitis Pubis.
There can’t be success without setbacks.
In June 2009, a torn right calf forced me out of the Gold Coast half marathon. Six months later, during my second comeback run, I tore the left calf.
They took 18 months and $1200 in physio to heal. I was dry-needled repeatedly, which is agonising. Kristine made me a pair of orthotics. I haven’t torn a calf since.
In 2012 I took a strained left quad into a half marathon and almost quit. My time, 1:57, was 23 minutes beyond my best.
The knee injury was another setback. It left me walking for exercise. Distance and stairs required patience. Bending my knee hurt. To roll over at night, I had to hold my left leg straight so the knee wouldn’t bend.
I couldn’t touch my arse with my heel, which is something most people don’t usually do except when stretching a quad.
In the absence of running I lost a couple of kilograms, all off my legs. I missed the solitude, running to music. It was my time. Something to look forward too.
On September 6, Dr Dale Rimmington examined my knee. I was minutes away from surgery at the Prince Charles Hospital. He asked how it felt.
‘It feels fine,’ I said. ‘But I haven’t been running.’
Rimmington smiled. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t do the operation.’
It sounded like a line he’d delivered plenty of times. We shared a weak laugh. Rimmington looked at the scan.
‘There’s damage to the knee cap and patella tendon so we’ll fix that too,’ he said.
A few hours later a nurse gave me a sandwich and a bottle of water and said I couldn’t leave if I threw up. She said I didn’t need crutches.
When Kristine came to get me, I limped to the car instead of using a wheelchair. If I didn’t need crutches I could walk.
Two weeks later, when Laurie said I’d be running, my knee was sore, swollen and inflexible. Walking was slow and painful. Laurie misjudged the recovery. I did too. The comeback was pushed to October 31.
I took ten days off work. When I went back, a colleague who’d had similar surgery said I’d be fine.
‘When I came back it was sore and I kept thinking about it,’ Barry said. ‘Then one day I realised it didn’t hurt anymore and I thought shit, when did that happen.’
In mid-October the knee was still swollen. During the post-surgery check-up, Rimmington said not to run until the end of November.
‘My local physio didn’t think the tear was that bad,’ I said. ‘He said I’d be running in two weeks.’
Rimmington frowned like a man being criticised, which wasn’t my intent. ‘It was a significant tear,’ he said. ‘No one could run two weeks after surgery like that. If you were a footballer you would’ve missed eight weeks.’
I smiled and shrugged. ‘The physio got it wrong.’
Rimmington was reassured. We talked about rehab. ‘You need to be able to walk for half an hour without pain before you can run,’ he said. ‘Then I want you to run-walk for three kilometres and keep doing that until there is no pain in the knee. If you still have pain after eight runs, give me a call.’
On November 9, I couldn’t wait any longer. The first, post-surgery run-walk was 3.4km around the block, using power poles as a guide to switch between running and walking. The following day the knee was sore but not swollen.
After ten runs I was still ignoring the pain. The medial ligament strain wasn’t improving. Ice became a way of life. A compression bandage was a constant companion.
In Brisbane in summer if it isn’t hot and humid then it’s raining. I ran in heat and rain. On January 12, I went for seven kilometres, which included a gentle hill up St Vincent’s Road. I was puffing at the top.
During the build up to the 2012 Gold Coast half marathon, I ran that hill a dozen times one afternoon.
Pain forced me back to Laurie in March. He gave me exercises to strengthen the medial ligament. I did them. I tried yoga for flexibility but it killed my back.
My times weren’t improving. I took a week off in April then went back to the gentle Banyo hills.
On Anzac Day, nine weeks before the Gold Coast half marathon, I had a bad run, 16k in 1:47. It was hot and humid, but I ran six minute kilometres.
May was better. I was doing 16k in 90 minutes but always in recovery my knee hurt. Several times the Baker’s Cyst burst, sending hot, excruciating fluid into the knee joint or down my calf.
By June, I almost registered for the Gold Coast run, but uncertainty forced me to close down the webpage. My knee was untrustworthy.
That Sunday when I could’ve been running at the Gold Coast, I stalked the house all day. Morning frustration manifested into afternoon anger. About three, I dressed for a run.
‘Won’t be too long,’ I said to Kristine.
I ran to Nudgee Beach and turned back at the wetlands, went past the cemetery, past the spelling farms and cut across Nudgee train station before heading into Elliot Road’s industrial district.
People were drinking in the craft brewery.
At Toombul Road, a couple of kilometres from home I wasn’t sweating anymore. I needed water. About fifty metres from home I stopped and walked the rest of the way.
Kristine asked why I was gone so long. Angus asked if I’d been for a run.
After a shower I showed Kristine the app that tracked my run.
‘Should’ve gone to the Gold Coast,’ I said. ‘Did a half marathon in 1:43.’
It was nine minutes outside my best but I ran without stopping. I went to bed thinking I should’ve backed myself and gone to the coast.
The medial ligament didn’t recover well. I couldn’t run for five days. Ongoing pain meant the distances grew shorter. After eight runs in July I did just four in August and September.
The knee hurt too much, forcing me out of the Brisbane and Melbourne half marathons.
I stopped running distances longer than six kilometres. It was time to look after the knee. Let it rest for next year.
A six kilometre run late in October was my first without pain in 20 months. Last week the same run was without pain. I don’t need ice or the pressure bandage anymore.
As Barry said, suddenly I’d realise there was no pain. Being pain free is a novelty. It might’ve happened sooner if I’d been patient. Rimmington said to wait until the end of November before running and see him again if pain persisted after eight runs. I didn’t do either and I didn’t go back because he would’ve said stop running.
And I wanted to run, knee be damned. Hopefully it can stay structural for next year. Hopefully my foolish ego, which thinks it’s running out of time, can do the same.
YEARS AGO I RAN A LOT AND TRAINED A LOT FOR SPRINTING AND BOXING, NEVER A DISTANCE MAN PROBABLY 4-5 KS VERY SLOW JOG IS ALL I COULD MANAGE, NEVER ANY INJURIES OVER QUITE A FEW YEARS, BUT I CAN RELATE ABOUT ‘YOUR’ TIME, BECAUSE RUNNING IS A WAY OF LIFE AND WE WILL DO ANYTHING POSSIBLE TO GET OUT THERE AND ENJOY, ACHE , PUFF, SWEAR, CRAMP, FART! ETC.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A BASTARD TO HAVE TO DO IT WITH ADDED PAIN! SO I TAKE MY HAT OFF TO YOU MATT FOR YOUR FRUSTRATION AND COURAGE.
CHEERS DENNIS
8/Y7Y
