I've been having some chronic pain in my right knee for about 3 months now. When I say "chronic" I don't mean the stickiest of icky that Snoop Dog rolls up gratuitously every time MTV Cribs shows up. What I'm talking about is chronic as in "always present" or "without cessation" or "christ my fuckin' knee will not stop hurting and I may have to start beating bums with a crowbar to take my mind off the constant pain," type chronic.
It all started in September during the Blue Ridge Relay (BRR). The BRR is 208 miles of running awesomeness through the Blue Ridge mountains. When you're healthy it's barrels of fun. When your knee is killing you and you still have a third run of seven miles up the mountain at 3:00 AM it's about as fun as a night in prison during an anal herpes outbreak.
I was in pretty good shape going into the race, I've never really had knee problems before, and I took ample time off after this injury in an attempt to fully recover. Because of all this coupled with the fact that this problem still persisted after time off, I embarked on what I did not realize at the time would be a Lord of the Rings type quest to find a doctor that could fix me up.
This is a summary of my doctor experiences so far:
1. Sports Medicine Doctor
This guy was worthless. I'm 100% sure that all he did was google "runner knee pain" before he saw me and then proceed to give me a laundry list of runners tips on how to avoid overtraining injuries. Maybe it's my fault for not marking down on one of 34 forms that I was not clinically retarded but I really don't remember seeing a box for that. Whatever online degree factory churned out this guy's medical license should be raided, pillaged, and burned to the ground. Yes, I realize that the headquarters for this place is probably some 27 year old's Albuquerque apartment. That's fine; torch it. And while you're at it, torch his '98 Toyota Camery. It wasn't a total loss, however, because evidently his nurse was trained in some sort of exotic muscle therapy called "stretching" and she showed me pretty radical moves like bending over at the waist and trying to touch your toes. All doctors are not created equal.
2. Orthopedic Specialist
This one was a lesson for me that looks can be deceiving. This guy was about 164 years old and at one glance I was convinced he was nothing but an old cumber-crust who was going to waste my time and over-charge me for x-rays. Much to my surprise he had studied this exact problem with Olympic caliber runner back in the day and diagnosed me with a misaligned pelvis. I was encouraged. He gave me an adjustment but said it probably wouldn't hold and referred me to a physical therapist.
3. Physical Therapist
I want to get one thing out of the way here first, and that is that this physical therapist girl was smokin' hot. I'm talking four alarm fire, make you smack your mama hot. This is also a good time to add that when a girl like this is probing your pelvis and nether regions, you had better be able to focus like a mother fucker on some baseball. I give sole credit to old, grainy Babe Ruth clips to helping me avoid what could have been a very uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Turned out, however, that what this girl had in sexual irresistability, she made up for with a complete lack of medical capability. I paid for 4 useless sessions. She was totally jazzed that another 4 sessions would do the trick. I was less enthusiastic. She took our parting kinda hard but she's a sweet girl, I'm sure she'll find someone else to make really uncomfortable and provide sub-par medical care to.
Yes, I know they're quacks. Yes, I always said there was no way I would ever go to one of these whack-jobs even if it meant an end to world infant-hunger and seal poaching. But, this guy is a triathlete, an ex-pro-cyclist, and a marathoner, and he was highly recommended by another triathlete friend of mine, so I let him go to town. This guy adjusted the bejesus out of me - back, pelvis, neck; you name it, he cracked it. Supposedly he fixed my misalignment. I guess we'll see.
So where do I stand now? Well, I'm still in pain. I've pretty much exhausted all medical avenues, and I've started super-over-analyzing all my own physiology and running history. I've formed some theories, of course, the front-runner being that jesus is punishing me for my unpure thoughts. I've also become somewhat addicted to bio-freeze, which is basically a Ben Gay for people under 90 years old. It rocks.