This is a tricky post.
On January 2, 2006, I began a post, entitled “600 meters: result happiness”:
In David Copperfield, Wilkins Micawber famously says, “Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery.” I decided to go down to the Bronxville track to see how far I could get. The knee did not cause any initial difficulty, but I started feeling it at about 600 meters, so I stopped. After a slight walk, I did another 200 meters or so but decided not to press it. It really is very little, but it gives me hope that I am not incurably defective.
I’ve been out for about a month. Last Sunday, on the road, I made it about 100 seconds before the ice pick reared its head and stabbed the knee. As it had the week before and the week before that. Ice, exercise, Advil.
Yesterday, down to the Bronxville Track. 2 laps, 1/2 a mile and I stopped. No pain. After a minute, continued, and felt a twinge at about 550 meters so stopped.
Today, don’t be greedy. One lap. Two laps. Three laps. Four. Stop. No pain. I feel it a wee bit now, but nothing major. In the final 600, I felt like a runner again.
The trickiness of this post comes from concern I fear what tomorrow may bring. It was peculiar. After yesterday, I was anxious about what would happen today. And so it is for tomorrow.
(That’s Daniel Radcliffe playing David Copperfield.)