This post originally appeared on Ben’s old blog, Running From the Physio.

In the last week, I’ve been chomping at the bit. Those words, “Don’t run before our next appointment” haunted me. Within a few days my knee felt good, I was tentatively trying it out up stairs and in short sprints across the road. I knew it was better, but I was good, and I waited for my appointment.

Some more massage, and a chat about running plans led to further horror: “I think you should leave it another few days, and perhaps go for a short run at the start of next week.” Really? Did he not realise that I was all fixed and ready to run miles and miles and miles and miles? Did he not know that I had a two half marathons in the next seven weeks?

100% accurate representation of how I felt.

What he perhaps did know, or have an inkling of, was that I wasn’t fixed.

He gave me a plan: two short, gentle runs this week. I figured if I did the first on Monday, and the second on Wednesday, then I might be able to sneak another one in on Saturday if everything went well. So it was that, full of excitement, and slightly scared, I was dressed in that sexy fluorescent yellow once again. I decided upon a nice little three mile loop that I knew well.

It was great! Well – the first mile was. No pain at all, just a nice mile completed in nine minutes. I was chuffed, and started to work out how I would add the mileage back in to get me up to a decent distance for the Bath Half. Then my knee started to ache. Then my knee started to ache more. Then my knee started to ache really quite badly. Then I stopped. I’d completed two miles, and I practically hobbled the third mile home.

Stairs are once again my nemesis, merely standing causes unreasonable discomfort. I still have a vague hope that I might be able to get out for a short run later this week, but if I do, it might be on a one mile loop! More likely, I’m going to give my leg a decent rest, and reassess things in a week or so. If I can persuade myself to be that patient. In the mean time, I’m going to have to live vicariously through my wife’s running: wonder if she fancies a ten miler at the weekend, I know a really good route…