I spent most of the morning trying to convince my friends to tell me that I didn't need to actually go to my doctor's appointment. My knee has been acting up since the 20-mile run I did the Sunday before last. I rested it for most of last week, doing only a three mile run before my 13-miler on Sunday. I probably should have stopped running about six miles into my thirteen mile run when my knee started acting up again. This is the problem with running with other people--pride. Well, it was a combination of pride and not wanting to be stranded somewhere between Natick and Wellesley with no way to get to the 11:00 brunch at the B&D Deli.

I've been doing a lot of limping and icing and whining. I skipped the entire stage of "oh, I should probably rest my legs so they'll be ready for the marathon" and headed straight to "my knee hurts, I won't be able to run the marathon...OR EVER AGAIN!"

Anyhoo, this morning my knee was feeling better and so I thought that someone should tell me I didn't have to go to the doctor. Nobody bought it. So I went to the doctor and I am now the proud owner of a referral to see a physical therapist. Yay team!