Working out with pain

Bob -

I think it was the half marathon two years ago that I was working out for.  Maybe three.  I have done four now, which is three more than I ever planned.  I wanted to do one.  One and done.  Uno y no mas.   So, anyway, I was training for number two or three.  Who really cares?  The point is that it was a time that I was having a bit of trouble with my right knee.  Nothing major, but at times it would act up, so I typically would wear a wrap that puts pressure on my patella region.  I found the pressure relieved the pain and I could run with no issues.  This must have been half number two because I now remember I was still using my old stride and form then.  When I refer to my old stride and form, I mean I lumbered around like an angry wildebeest trying to put on his socks.  That is how I ran.  Like a wildebeest hopping around trying to put socks on.  The local children called me the wildebeest and I was not happy about it, but I had to run and I had to deal with it.  In 8th grade some kids called me Bunkhead, but that is a story for another day.  Just so you know, that story revolved around me being a new kid and calling the teacher Mrs. Bunkhead, when her name I think was Mrs. Bankhead.  Yahoo, let's call the new kid in the funny clothes Bunkhead because he made a mistake.  Moved from beautiful Salinas, California and a school that was set in a canyon in the woods where I had tons of friends  to Walt Whitman Junior High School in Alexandria, VA which smelled like pee and tar and kids called me Bunkhead.  Fast forward to three years ago and I'm running around with kids calling me the great wildebeest.  The wildebeest part is actually made up, the pee, tar and Bunkhead is not.  But I did feel like a wildebeest putting on socks and kids would have been kind of on the mark if they called me the Wildebeest.  Where is this going?  I almost forget, but let's try to focus.  I am running at the beautiful college track.  I am supposed to be doing speed work, which I have not done since probably 1982 when I actually was speedy.  I was running 200's at a pace that was close to what I used to be able to do 440's in and my knee starts acting up.  In addition, I forgot my knee wrap.  There happened to be some college track athletes there practicing as well.  I was doing my best trying not to look old and decrepit and impressive for an old guy, but I was limping like Festus in Gunsmoke.  Or was it Chester?  I'm a comin' Marshall Dillon.  Wait fer me.  Getty up, knee.  It just wasn't working, but I had to finish the workout.  All I had was my shirt.  To use my shirt meant I had to take it off.  To take it off meant I had to unleash the milky white love handles from hell.  That is what I did.  I took off my shirt, wrapped my knee with it and continued my workout.  It ain't easy running 200's at a circa 1979 440 pace with a shirt flopping about around your knee and fat rolls flying.  But I did it.  I finished the workout.  I would like to think that I taught those youngsters a lesson in perseverance and prevailing in unfortunate situations, but I am pretty sure they just made fun of me at their next keg party.  The moral to this story is don't forget your knee wrap and get your teacher's name right.  Kids can be mean.