Basically the doctor said that running was history for Joe. We're getting clarification on that, but it's still unnerving. I know that no running for Joe does not mean no running for me, but I can't help but feel like it is. Joe and I run together. We exercise together. It's part of who we are and we we've become as a couple. It's been a fabulous experience to go from being two over sized nacho eaters to two lean mean running energetic machines. It's really part of how I think of us as a couple.
Joe broke the news to me yesterday and I really felt like I was going to cry...actually I was on the verge of tears for a few hours. My office is kind of like a fish bowl, so almost crying is especially awkward. I was sad for Joe, I was sad for us, and I was sad for me. I felt ridiculous as I sat blinking back tears and asked myself, "What the hell Kerry?" Then I remembered the psychological reactions to injuries section of one of my classes. It was clear why I was freaking out. Characteristics that mediate how people respond to injury are: severity, onset, course, type, history, perceived recovery, and identity.
Here's why I was/am a mess:
- Severity-The doctor said this was permanent/incurable.
- Course-This injury has been here and then not so it never seemed like a big deal.
- Perceived recovery- See #1.
- Identity-As you can see, I derive a lot of identity from this aspect of our lives. The hopes of finishing a marathon just added to it.
Right now we're following up with the doctor to if there is a more certain way to diagnose this. We're not giving it up for a misdiagnosis! We're also looking for ways to improve the knee and maybe make running possible. I'm still holding out hope. I suppose if that doesn't work out, I'll need to work on redefining myself. Hmm...I really liked where I was going.