Today marks the first time since my knee surgery, nearly a year and a half ago, that I’ve run for seven consecutive days.  The last time I ran six days in a row was at the beginning of September, and I felt awful by the end of that streak.  From mid-August to the beginning of September, I ran about five or six days in a row and then took the other days on the bike to try to alleviate the completely trashed feeling from running.  By the end of September, I had been running about six miles on the days I ran and started to feel more smooth doing it, but I was still pretty beat up.

Part of the beat up feeling was more than likely due to me favoring my non-surgery leg when running.  I had been fighting an adductor strain on my right leg that gradually got worse until I was unable to walk without limping.  While my left knee felt fine, my right leg hurt just about everywhere.  At first, I thought it was just the humidity, but as the summer ended, the problems persisted, and I was forced to stop running at the beginning of October. From then until the beginning of December I spent most of the time on the bike, with a few botched attempts at running once my thigh problems calmed down.  However, within the last few weeks I’ve been able to restart running while keeping everything under control.  With the introduction of cold weather, it’s a lot easier to run than bike, despite buying warmer clothes to ride in the cold and rain.

At this point, I’m certain that I’ll never feel as good running as I did when I was on my college team.  On the team, even on the worst days after a race or hard workout, I still felt light on my feet and able to cruise through a 10-15 mile run without thinking.  Today, each step I take is a considerable effort, like I have to drag myself through five or six miles.  Comparing how I felt when running on the team with how it feels now reminds me of a passage in Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon. A character in the book compares the power of a bandsaw to other saws and a Vickers machine gun to other firearms:

[T]he most noteworthy thing about the bandsaw was that you could cut anything with it and not only did it do the job quickly and coolly but it didn’t seem to notice that it was doing anything. It wasn’t even aware that a human being was sliding a great big chunk of stuff through it. It never slowed down. Never heated up.

Guns could fire bullets all right, but they kicked back and heated up, got dirty, and jammed eventually. They could fire bullets in other words, but it was a big deal for them, it placed a certain amount of stress on them, and they could not take that stress forever. But the Vickers in the back of this truck was to other guns as the bandsaw was to other saws. The Vickers was water-cooled. It actually had a fucking radiator on it. It had infrastructure, just like the bandsaw, and a whole crew of technicians to fuss over it. But once the damn thing was up and running, it could fire continuously for days as long as people kept scurrying up to it with more belts of ammunition.

Before my surgery and when I was on the team, it was as if I could just go forever and chew through any workout or race, “firing continuously for days.”  I never slowed down and rarely heated up.  There were limits, of course, but reaching them required hundred mile weeks, punishing pace runs, and draining interval workouts.  Like the Vickers, there was also quite the support infrastructure of coaches, trainers, and teammates.  But now only running a few miles is “a big deal” for me.  It places quite a bit of stress on me, though it is easier than in the late summer.  I’m quite sure I’ll have to spend a lot more time on the bike, but maybe I’ll get to the point where I’ll want to run a race.

With respect to school, I’ll be travelling to Stockholm in April to present a paper at RTAS.  I’ve been working on several projects related to event detection with accuracy guarantees, which will probably form the basis for my thesis.  I also went to RTSS in Washington, DC two weeks ago, but only a few tracks were on wireless sensor networks, but most were about job scheduling and cache replacement policies with the latest multi-core architectures.  I’ll also be starting a project with mobile phones with a few other students in our department, which should be interesting.  The traditional concept of wireless sensor networks entails small devices with cheap sensors and the processing power of a scientific calculator.  However, mobile phones have considerably more power as well as onboard sensors and have more potential for practical applications that people would actually use.

It’s interesting that I spend much of my time writing, creating presentations, and sketching out designs and high-level solutions.  About half of my time is actually spent programming.  It’s probably a good thing since it gives me a balance between different tasks.  Writing papers and creating presentations can be tedious since it can be difficult to cram in months of work into a short paper or presentation.  It’s also difficult to create a good balance of high-level descriptions and details to keep people interested but not get confused.  When working with a small group of people on a project for a long time, it’s easy to get stuck in a box and not consider things that outsiders would see as obvious.  Working with a few other students on my next project should help with this.

It’s when I run into my old teammates that I realize that despite being in the same town and same school that things are really different.  One of my teammates got married a few weeks ago and at the wedding, it really hit home that I’m living in a new era.  We’re no longer kids.  School has taken on a whole new meaning.  My relationship with my longtime girlfriend has also taken on a new meaning.  Many of the people and the places are the same, but life is different.

Years ago, the biggest road race in the area was the Shamrock marathon and 8k with a modest entry fee.  The turnout was smaller, but the fastest finishing times were still comparable to today.  Recently, the local running club handed over control of the Shamrock to a for-profit company.  Volunteers were replaced by paid staff.  Prize money for elite finishers was increased.  What was a well organized regional race was turned into a full blown production with all the frills.  Consequently, entry fees skyrocketed.  The hype induced a similar increase in turnout.  However, the fastest finishing times also only showed marginal improvement.

What does the average runner stand to gain by paying $90 for a race?  As bad as $90 sounds, it was only the registration fee several months in advance of the race; the fee increased to $110 three months before.  So, does that $90 get you better competition?  At a smaller (and probably cheaper) race, there may be fewer runners, but the average half marathon runner will still find plenty of people to try and chase down.  Is the $90 worth the dry-fit t-shirt or extra junk that comes in the race packet?  Maybe the finishing medal is better.  Or, maybe the experience is somehow intrinsically better just because the race was expensive.  Clearly, the average runner stands little to gain by running in a large scale production-style road race orchestrated by a for-profit company rather than running in a local road race staffed by volunteers.  Somehow, people still pay anyway and all the backhanded marketing hype draws them in record numbers like mosquitoes to a bug zapper.

The increased registration fees only really benefit two groups: the elite runners, and of course, the organizers.  With increased entry fees at large races, elite runners are often provided with free travel and hotel rooms.  Naturally, they don’t have to pay an entry fee while the increased costs to all other participants provide a larger pile of prize money to the elites.  That $90 provided by 20,000 participants also does well in providing the organizers with a nice chunk of change.  Those who were once volunteers and provided a great service to the community are now ransacking their fellow runners’ wallets for every last dollar.

It’s bad enough that the registration fee is so high for many of these races.  It’s even worse that these high profile races don’t even allow registration transfers in case of injury, lack of training, or sudden employer-mandated travel plans.  As a result, some strange things happen as people struggle to cope with a significant monetary loss.  Some will trade numbers under the table, throwing off the results when a supposed 55 year old blows away the masters division with a near record time.  Others who didn’t prepare or who suffered an injury may force themselves out on the course and punish themselves because they want to get their money’s worth.  Others still may decide not to run altogether, leaving several thousand non-starts that could have been filled with ready participants.

I could never justify the cost of such a race, even after I had recently exhausted my college eligibility and was looking for races to run.  I had considered slapping down a few massive entrance fees to run a few half marathons or marathons.  Before I got that far, my knee gave out.  It just isn’t worth it to fork over the $90+ for a race several months in advance that I might not be able to run because of injury.  To me, it’s not the hype or the junk that comes in the race packet.  It really isn’t even about the competition anymore.  If my knee were to withstand a race, I would do it only for enjoyment and I don’t think I need to pay $90 to get that.  Even if I had to pay for all of my college races, I don’t know if I could justify the cost if I had to pay extortionist entry fees at each one.  I can get much more than $90 worth of enjoyment just by running on my own.

When I ran competitively, I only paid for a handful of races, most of them when I was unattached in college.  I think I paid $15 for a cross country invitational at UVA, another $15 to run a 3k at George Mason, and about $50 to run the 5k at Penn Relays.  That $50 at Penn Relays got me in a race with plenty of competition, including Alan Webb, who ran 13:30.  I ran about a minute slower, just barely getting lapped by him at the end, but it was him and the other runners that helped me drag myself around the track towards the end.   In that case, the extra costs of the entrance fee and travel may have been worthwhile, but such cases are outliers.  Today, I’m no different than the average recreational runner and I don’t have to pay $50 – $75 more and travel hundreds of miles to race when similar competition could be found right where I live.  That is, if it’s competition I want.

I consider myself very fortunate to have crossed paths with people who found that satisfaction didn’t always come from making money.  I had high school and college coaches that gave most of their time to me despite earning little or no money.  I ran plenty of local road races staffed by volunteers who came just because they loved to be there.  It was this passion that came from people like these that helped me go a long way with my running career.  Ironically, it was from the same people that I realized I could never run professionally.  Like someone who forks over $90 for a race, there would be too much external pressure from a sponsor to run through injuries, train harder than I felt comfortable, and to turn a daily release into a daily grind.  Money and love don’t always mix.

It appears as though things that were once steeped in intrinsic value are falling to the marketers.  Road racing is only one example.  Even coaching for these expensive races is now being offered at an equivalently steep price.  Those who once freely gave their time and effort are now turning their passions into profit, raking fellow enthusiasts over the coals.  Those who may have run for pure enjoyment are now forking over cash to attend pre-race expos, get race packets stuffed with “free samples”, and get hyped with bands blasting music along the race course.  It’s one less thing that’s done because it’s fun.  It’s one more thing done only for the money.

As we made our way back to Williamsburg, the guy said he was here on vacation with his family.  I guess the map made it obvious he wasn’t from around here.  Like me, he said he ran in college and then turned to cycling and suggested that I should start racing.  I’ve had a few people suggest this to me over the last couple of months, but I’ve never really considered it until now.  I’m pretty sure that my future in competitive running will be somewhat mitigated, if not completely over.  Today I was out again and passed by a pace line of JRVS guys.  I thought about joining in but yesterday was a long day and I had also run this morning so I was pretty beat up.  It did get me thinking though.

Since leaving my college team, the last two years have been spent more or less decompressing from that environment.  Lots of my teammates have gone straight into competing in marathons once they graduated.  A lucky few have even signed deals with sponsors.  I remember a conversation in the Caf one night about what we would do in terms of running when we were done with eligibility.  I was definitely going to keep running, but I wanted to go on how I felt, not based on a strict training schedule.  There were plenty of days where I suffered through a workout or race when I was beat up from training over the previous weeks.  I always thought it better to go on how I felt, but as being part of a team I had to do as directed by my coach and stick to the plan.  There were a few times where a really hard week would put me in a hole and in the next week I would be taken out by injury.  While I was given some respite from workouts when I was especially tired, it usually wasn’t enough.  Conversely, there were easier days where I felt really good and would wind up putting down the hammer.

If I were to consider bike racing, I would probably have to revert to a training schedule.  Just going out and screwing around for an arbitrary amount of time isn’t going to cut it.  If I were to try it, I would commit to it completely.  I could just show up to something local and see how it goes.  I would probably get my butt kicked.  I don’t think the training for the bike would be much different than running in terms of long range planning and workouts.  The same principles will apply.  There would be longer anaerobic threshold type efforts, hill workouts, intervals and gradual buildup of total mileage over time, which would decrease for the races I wished to peak for.

At the moment, I like just getting outside for awhile.  A training schedule would add a burden that I would have to carry, and the past two years have been nice without that.  But every time I pass by a group of guys tearing it up or manage to collect someone along the way, I remember what it was like and it would be good to do it again.

Today, there was an article in the local paper about a guy, Paul Boyette, from Chesapeake who had a running streak that lasted over six years.  He ran at least two miles every day, running through injuries, terrible respiratory infections, and all kinds of weather.  His streak was finally ended by a torn meniscus which proved too painful for him to run through.  Oddly, this happened last summer, within a month of the pain in my knee becoming too great to run.  The article was really vague as to what happened after he stopped because of the torn meniscus, but one of the photo captions describes him running last month.  So, it appears as though he is back to doing what he loves.

The author of the article really makes this guy out to be an eccentric, hounding him because of his massive music and beer stein collections.  The author describes how Boyette’s family and friends gave him endless grief about maintaining the running streak and running every day though illness and injury.  Boyette is compared with a drug addict, as someone who has to get his fix or else he can’t function.  His stacks of meticulously kept running logs and piles of worn out shoes are referenced as paraphernalia, aiding the addiction.  A few commenters for the article say the guy is addicted to endorphins.

It isn’t addiction.  It isn’t obsession. It is passion.  Over the years, I’ve been hounded by people saying the same things, over and over:

“Why are you running in this weather? It’s too [cold/hot/rainy].”

“If you’re tired, take a day off.”

“Why don’t you try doing something else instead of running?”

The mediocre, the average, the run-of-the-mill Joe Six Pack only cares enough to go through the motions with any activity.  These people, which make up a large majority of the population, see those who put all their effort into something as obsessive.  The mediocre only wish to do good enough and to quit early.  They will never feel good about any of their accomplishments, yet they simultaneously envy and criticize those who work extremely hard and become successful.  The mediocre are everywhere and would love nothing more than to witness the failure of those who actually try.  To that end, the mediocre spread their negativity and criticism to those they know that are successful, secretly wishing their endeavors will implode and their work will be for nothing.  The author of the article and the commenters that follow are prime examples of those who just don’t get it.

People scoff at Bill Gates for sleeping in his office during the early years of Microsoft, working at his computer until he collapsed onto the floor with exhaustion.  Though the mediocre label him as obsessive and wish to see Microsoft wiped from the earth, every single one of them has used a Microsoft product.  If it weren’t for Gates’s efforts, this large scale success would never have been realized.  Computing would never be what it is today without those “obsessives” working until they drop on the floor.  Still more people can’t believe that the efforts Adam Savage of Mythbusters undertook to recreate an exact duplicate of the Maltese Falcon.  He spent months of work researching the prop from the film, drawing sketches, making several mockups, and eventually getting his hands on the original prop to create a near flawless duplicate.  In the video, Savage’s passion for his work really comes out as he speaks quickly and excitedly about every last detail of his quest.  You don’t see that with the mediocre.  You can tell when someone is passionate about their work when they speak of it like Savage, and you can tell when someone really just doesn’t care.  I’ve seen professors, other grad students, running teammates, and internship co-workers speak with the same excitedness as Savage when they speak about their latest accomplishments.  The passionate can pull you right into the hype.

It disappoints me to see that most others criticize the concentrated efforts of those like Bill Gates and Adam Savage while it is efforts such as those that keep the world in one piece.  Without them, this world would be a bunch of slackers.

So why run until the pain becomes unbearable?  Why work until you fall asleep at your desk?  It is because not doing so would be a failure.  I ran every day I could because I wanted to make the best of what I had.  I ran every day and through all weather and many illnesses and injuries of my own because I knew there would be a day where the problems would be too great to run.  On that day when I finally couldn’t run, I could look back and know that I had done my best.  On the day I couldn’t run, I would have no regrets about the past.  I would not have to wish that I had gone out for a run on a day that I was only too lazy to go.  That day came last summer when my knee made running unbearable.  Like Boyette, I had to stop.  I had no regrets: I knew that I had made the best with what I had.  Those who are mediocre will regret the day that they are unable to do something because of circumstances beyond their control.  They had the chance to give it their all, but they didn’t make use of it.

I hope that I never again get criticised for biking or running as much as I can or for doing work when someone wants me to go out.  It is what makes me who I am and it is not a disorder that should be treated with magic pills.

It could be that biking is just making things tight and that maybe I should run first.  I also really shortened my stride so I didn’t have to bend my knee as much, which probably helped.  It might be that bending it too much is causing the pain in the damaged area, so I might be constrained to shuffling around everywhere.  If my body permits me to go more, maybe that will work itself out.  Regardless, it was the best four minutes I’ve experienced in quite a long time.

Pain is a weird thing.  When you don’t have it, you don’t think about it, but when you’ve got it, it makes things miserable.  I remember my high school coach giving a speech about pain before a workout.  It was during the first few weeks of my freshman year.  He asked how many of us had older siblings in our families.  A lot of guys raised their hands.  He then went on to say that our minds don’t remember pain and if our mothers had remembered the pain of childbirth that many of us who were second or third children would not exist.  The point was to illustrate that though you’ll be suffering through the workout, an hour later, you’ll be fine and you’ll be willing to do it again a few days later.  The same thing goes for injury pain and illness: it’s hard to concieve what it’s like when you’re healthy, but when you’re down, it really sucks.

An interesting study/article points this out: that the little things like pain are what make or break our lives.  People believe that it’s the big things that really make us happy or sad, but it isn’t.  It’s not the new and exciting job, it’s not the move to sunny California, and it’s not winning the lottery that makes your life better.  People who survive natural disasters and other traumatic incidents and those that even lose their vision or hearing don’t report that they feel any less happy than they were previously.  However, those that develop strong ties with family and friends report being happier, while those that develop chronic pain or discomfort never adjust.  It seems that indeed, pain is something that can never be adjusted for, and it’s probably some kind of evolutionary survival mechanism.  Without pain, I would have run even farther on my knee last year and probably to the point where I would become unable to walk.

For now, I’ll get while the getting’s good and try to run in real small increments all the while being on the lookout for any serious problems.

I still haven’t tried running yet. With a lot of work for school, the immense overhead of returning to running is just too much. With past running injuries, there is so much time that is needed for walk/jog, cross training, and way more stretching and icing to deal with potential comeback injuries. When work subsides some, hopefully within a month or two, I should have more time to try running again. With the biking that I’ve done, I’m fairly confident that my knee will tolerate some running. Otherwise, I’ve got a feeling that I would have some pain on the bike.

My bike got a flat from the resistance trainer this week. I find that odd. The tire rubs against a smooth surface on the trainer, so it wasn’t punctured. I have a feeling that the rubber tube degrades over time and eventually the glue and seams that hold it together come apart. It was probably a pinch flat: as air slowly leaked out, the underinflated tire was pinched by the rim, causing a small tear in a seam. I did notice this week that the resistance didn’t seem as much as usual although I had recently put air in the tire. This morning it was flat, and five minutes after putting in more air, it was flat again. After a tube change, the resistance seemed more normal, but I always get real paranoid about stuff like this when biking. Sooner or later, something’s going to give. It’s why I like running: no equipment to rely on.

It’s almost as if with biking, some of my stress-induced injuries that would occur with running get transferred to the bike. With running or biking, there is a single entity performing the activity with the same probability of some kind of failure. With running, it’s just me, but with biking, the bike and I are sharing the task. Sometimes I break down, and sometimes the bike breaks down. In most cases, the bike can be fixed a lot faster than I can.

I’m still considering getting a new bike, but haven’t looked into it too much. I would like a carbon fiber frame, but that jacks up the price significantly. I know Trek has a fairly wide range of relatively affordable carbon fiber bikes, but it seems that some are better than others, so I’ll have to do research. The aluminum frames I’ve ridden feel kind of twisty while the steel-framed Bianchi I’ve got is solid. The components on the Bianchi are about ground to dust so I’ve got to get something that’s fairly robust. I figure that shelling out a bit of dough will be worth it if it’s something I’m going to use every day. Like the computer monitor, I would rather pay a bit more for something that’s good and that will work well and hold up than get something cheap that will break down. If I start running again, I’ll probably not bike as much, but I would probably still do it to help ease the impact of just running and doing nothing else.

For now, I’ve got no reason to rush anything, and when the time is right, I’ll look more into running again. I do think that time is coming soon.

Now it’s one year later on a similarly cold day and I’m on the other side. After a long period of pain and wondering what I had done to my knee, to the cartilage tear diagnosis and buildup to the surgery, the weeks of non-weight bearing, the months of wearing a brace, and finally biking again, I’ve come nearly full circle. A few of the guys on the team asked yesterday when I’ll be tying up the ol’ running shoes again. One even asked about racing plans. Not so fast…

My goal is to start once the weather gets warmer — the cold is probably one of the factors that led to my problems in the first place. The worst of all my previous running injuries started in the winter. I really also don’t care for freezing my butt off outside when I can bike inside. A part of me doesn’t want to start at all in fear that I’ll be in pain. I would almost rather just have the hope that I can run again versus the fear that I’ll never be able to.

I have a hard time believing it’s been a year since all this went down. I feel a lot better now than I did then, especially knowing what was wrong with me. I waited for months until the pain and irritation got so bad to go to the doctor, but there wasn’t a day that I wondered why my knee gave me such trouble. I remember clearly the day I hurt it, getting into the car and feeling unbearable pain each time I put in the clutch. Stairs were a nightmare, and even extending my leg when sitting down was pretty bad. At the least, I know what happened and I’ve tried to get it fixed. It’s possible with advances in stem cell research that I could get an injection that would regrow my lost cartilage to its pre-tear state. I could go back to running as if nothing ever happened. Now, I’ll be satisfied if I can get out the door a few times a week for a couple of miles.

I’m really starting to face the reality that I’m getting older. I know I’m not that old, but most of the doctors I’ve seen for various running injuries have told me that I’m not an invincible high schooler anymore. Stuff is going to wear me down more than it used to and I’ve got to pay attention.  My coach calls them “old man” injuries. I even get called “old man” when I occasionally drop by at practice.

I guess this just boils down to the fact that I wish that I didn’t have to worry about coming apart at the seams. Ray Kurzweil goes on about how much of a PITA it is to give our bodies constant attention and to still have them break down on us — that a better solution is needed than just advances in medical technology. I really can’t stand to have to dedicate so much time to bodily upkeep when I could be doing something else. Imagine how many more interesting things we could be doing instead of having to sleep, eat, drink, brush our teeth, and handle other annoying bodily functions. They always seem to get in the way when I want to put my attention elsewhere.

Though uploading my consciousness into a computer as a program sounds like a radical idea, it would certainly take care of most of these annoyances. The question would then become one of experience: would existing as a computer program provide the same sensory experience, satisfaction, and overall quality of life as in a real body? I’m not sure. At this point I would have to say no, but maybe a few more years of aging will change that.

I still have occasional pain in my left knee, which is probably just the IT band again, but sometimes I think I feel something in the joint.  I’ve been stretching more after biking to help keep everything loose before I get in front of the computer for most of the day.  I spend about 15 minutes or so now, which is better than when I first started biking, where some days I wouldn’t stretch at all.  I really should do more so that I can adjust better if I bike more or start running.  If I start biking on the roads for any significant amount of time or add in running, I could be in trouble with not stretching enough.  Plenty of typical soft tissue injuries could be in store for me if I don’t watch out.

I drove the Mustang again yesterday for the second time since I’ve had the surgery.  I’m planning on driving it again more now that I can handle it, but it still has me worried whenever I put my foot on the clutch.  Each time I even touch the clutch I think about the popping and pain that ensued prior to the surgery.  It’s like going down stairs was for awhile.  I just have to overcome the fear, but at the same time I wonder if the clutch is going to wear down the fibrocartilage in my knee in the same way that running might.  I will gradually drive it more and see how it goes.  I may throw in the towel if I start to get discomfort.

The PT appointments have also come to an end and I am progressing with cycling to continue building leg strength. The weather has been warm on and off over the past few weeks, which really makes me consider going out on the roads instead of the resistance trainer.  I’m confident about going out on a longer ride now and am pretty sure my knee could handle it. When I do decide to venture out, I’ll probably go when I’m in Williamsburg since it’s much more bike friendly.

Over the weekend, I was out walking around near the oceanfront for a few hours, which was by far the longest I had been standing/walking since the surgery.  I got a lot more tired and the surgery knee seemed to stiffen up some as well.  I also noticed my right IT band getting tight, but that might just be from biking.  The same thing happened right after the cartilage tear — I was putting most of my weight on the good leg and consequently, my right IT band blew up.  Now that I know the warning signs I can take care of it early with stretching and rolling on it.

The other weird thing I’ve been noticing is that the resistance trainer has a difficulty that is correlated with temperature.  I had never used the resistance trainer much to really notice anything weird, but now that I’ve been using it almost every day, there seems to be a strong correlation between swings in temperature and difficulty.  At first, I thought some days my body was just more tired than others, but I noticed that every day I felt more tired than usual, it was warm out. I used the same gear every time, so it couldn’t be that.  With running, I always felt better when it was warmer, so this was definitely strange.  The fluid inside must expand with the increased ambient temperature and cause more resistance.

I also notice that the trainer has some kind of warmup time, also correlated with temperature. When I first start, it seems really easy, and then after about 5 – 8 minutes, the resistance ramps up and stays that way for the rest of the bike. When it’s warm out, the warmup time is closer to five minutes, and when it’s colder, it’s more like seven or eight, and a few times when it’s been in the twenties (I use it in the garage with the door open), it seems like the difficulty increases only slightly in the first ten minutes. Again, this is probably the fluid inside the trainer warming up and reaching some threshold above which things cause a lot more friction.

Every time after I finish, the trainer is really hot to the touch. A lot of energy must go into that thing over the course of 45 minutes and it soaks it all up and tries to dissipate some of it with an attached heat sink. I know that every basic bike computer comes with a wattage computer, but personally I would like to modify the trainer into a dynamo and hook up a bunch of 100w light bulbs. I could see as I go how many I could light up (probably only a couple). Actually seeing the light bulbs come on would be a heck of a lot more motivation than some number on a computer. Of course, if I wanted to light up more bulbs I could just use 60 watt bulbs or even some CFLs. Or, I could see if I could generate enough power to keep a (low power) computer running. I could watch a movie, but it would only stay on as long as I was working hard enough. I could somehow integrate some of my research into this too. Not that I’m averse to suffering without distractions, but it’s just interesting to realize how much work goes in to keeping the lights and computer running.

It seems that my knee is doing fine with the exception of some minor tracking issues — it’s almost as if the joint is “looser” than before. I’m doing about 45 minutes hard on the bike every day along with some other free weight leg exercises I picked up from the PT. My PT appointments have gone down to once per week, which is good since it’s getting old doing that.

I think a few more weeks to a month at most and I’ll be confident about starting a return to running program. By that time everyone will have returned for the spring semester and I could try hooking up with my old coach or the athletic trainer about stuff to watch out for as I start running again. Both of them dealt with other athletes with microfracture so they could provide me with guidance as I go. It seems that the PT was/is rushing me back to running so I can be released from them, but I don’t get why they just don’t cut me loose. Rushing this is a really bad idea. My pre-surgery past self would have tried rushing back to running as quickly as possible, but I really don’t want to wind up back at square one and require another surgery right off the bat. I’m sure my coach and the athletic trainer wouldn’t mind talking to me a few minutes per week about how things are going.

I return to the doctor next week so I will see what he says about everything now that I am over four months post-op.