I'm so sorry...

I'd like to apologise to the man I punched this evening in the swimming pool. I'd like to set the record straight immediately by saying that this was an accident rather than me losing my rag and venting my fury in physical form. Far from it; I was enjoying a rather pleasant swim.

The pool was packed and I was sharing a lane with two rather large women. One of them was doing breast stroke and her arms were rather long in proportion to her body; she reminded me of a sloth. When swimming, her reach seemed to take up most of the lane. Whenever we passed each other I swam tight to the other lane rope, giving her the space she needed.

On one of our crosses, as I lifted my left arm and stretched it forward, ready to enter the water and pull me on, my fist struck an oncoming swimmer in the next lane. My knuckles cracked as my fist and his face connected. At first, I couldn't figure out what had happened but glancing back I could see lots of spluttering before he righted himself and continued swimming.

As I left the pool he shot me a glare which I returned by silently mouthing, "Sorry..." and apologetically shrugging my shoulders.He stared back, unmoved by my apology.

Soup, painkillers and antibiotics...

I have a problem with a dental implant where the crown has become loose and is digging into my gum. The gum has become inflamed and the whole right side of my upper jaw is aching and I can't bite.

This is not fun. I rang my dentist this morning for an appointment but he's not well so I saw another dentist at the practice this afternoon who tried but failed to remove the crown.

They think that my dentist will be back on Wednesday and they are hoping that I can see him then for him to try and remove it. I hope so. Until that date, I'm living on soup, painkillers and antibiotics.

Dental pain really is the worst kind of pain...

Today's run at 17:55
Distance	5.01 km	Time	27:50
Pace	5:34 min/km	Cadence	80 spm
Comments: Bright and sunny.

Have you seen my vastus medialis...?

A lovely 5km run around the Bay this morning. The sun was shining and it was still early enough to be quite peaceful and still; before the crowds descend - as they invariably do on weekends when the weather is good.

I haven't run since last Sunday because I've had a bit of a knee twinge thing going on (technical term). It's felt very similar to the early stages of the problems I had with my knee over two years ago. It's not been painful but a little uncomfortable when going up and down stairs. But then, that's how it started last time.

That episode stopped me running for a month or more and involved regular visits to the physio to get it sorted. This week I've been swimming instead and doing the leg exercises the physio prescribed two years ago. The exercises involve building up the Vastus Medialis (sometimes known as the teardrop muscle) on my right leg.

And the reason I need to concentrate on this muscle in particular? Having dislocated my right hip when I was 18 and then badly broken my right ankle 5 years ago which required surgery to pin and plate my fibula; my right leg is weaker than my left and because of that my knee is prone to track incorrectly - building up my Vastus Medialis corrects that.

I'm pleased to announce that the exercises are paying off; this morning's run caused me no pain, not even the slightest knee twinge thing going on...

Today's run at 7:45
Distance	5.01 km	Time	27:10
Pace	5:25 min/km	Cadence	83 spm
Comments: Bright and sunny.

Sibling rivalry...

It's a well documented phenomenon: when a second child is born the first often feels jealous of the attention given to the new arrival. It's a hard lesson; discovering that you are not the only being of importance in this universe. I reacted quite badly when my brother arrived. My solipsistic existence soon lay in tatters.

Up to and including May 27th 1965 I reigned supreme but on May 28th 1965 I'd been relegated; not just to second place but to second division. All I wanted was to regain my pre-sibling number one pole position. Nothing was going to stand in my way.

I constructed towers of wooden blocks on top of him in his cot which I then demolished - the bricks showering down on his head. I stuffed his beloved teddy up the chimney and my mother had to then throw it out - so ingrained it was with soot. I well remember the day when I threw a dart at him which lodged in his temple and my mother had to tug really hard to remove it - my brother balling his eyes out all the while.

He recently, completed his second course of chemotherapy after the cancer he thought he'd conquered returned. He's hopeful for the future. We all are. I'm meeting him for a drink tomorrow.

Today's run at 17:41
Distance	4.19 km	Time	22:23
Pace	5:20 min/km	Cadence	81 spm

Roadkill...

This morning I stumbled upon this BBC page about road deaths in the UK. The page points to videos and infographics telling the story of human injury and loss of life as a result of traffic accidents over the last 12 years.

Between 1999 and 2011 there have been over 3,000,000 casualties as a result of traffic accidents, of which there were 373,985 serious injuries and 36,000 people lost their lives.

Whilst out running tonight, I passed a roadside shrine of flowers tied to a railing marking someone's death. I've seen it on previous runs; I'm sure it's been there for at least a couple of months. I'd never paid too much attention to it before but, with the statistics highlighted on that BBC page still whirring in my head, I saw it in a different light.

5 people die on Britain's roads every day. Shocking and truly horrific.

Today's run at 16:46
Distance	4.01 km	Time	21:37
Pace	5:23 min/km	Cadence	82 spm

It seems that even God has limitations...

Tonight I read the news about the dangerous advice given by certain churches in London, Manchester and Glasgow for people with HIV to stop taking their medication. Instead, the churches claim, the Lord will cure these people. As a consequence, at least six people have already died after following this advice.

At Lourdes, crutches, walking sticks and canes are hung up as proof of the miracles that the Lord has performed there, allowing the lame to walk again - a testament to our Lord's infinite powers. But if his powers are so infinite, where have they hung the false legs and prosthetic arms and glass eyes...?

Advice to people with serious conditions to give up their medication and instead trust in God is surely evil and unchristian. Don't we still prosecute people in this country for assisting suicide...?

Nobody's perfect...

I am 49. At the age of 10 the local farmer's dog attacked me, biting my arm and chest. Aged 12, my brother split my lip by throwing an ashtray at me because I told him the score to a football match he was looking forward to watching. At 15 I found out I was diabetic and began taking insulin. Aged 17 I fell off the front of a moving land rover and dislocated my right hip. At 30 I had a fit because of low blood sugars and needed stitches in my head. Aged 34 I broke a rib in an argument and at 43 I fractured a finger in another argument. At 45 I broke my ankle in Rome during another fit caused by low blood sugars. Aged 46 I had my right wrist operated on to relieve carpel tunnel syndrome. At 47 I broke my scaphoid bone in my right wrist after I went over the handlebars of my bike and I also had some cosmetic dental work to correct a crooked and gappy smile.

Nobody's perfect but we strive to maintain ourselves after the barrel of shite life throws at us. Today I saw a man on the nudist beach with only one leg. He had a prosthetic lower right leg. He was German. I know this because I overheard him talking. Later I saw a woman on the nudist beach (again, German) who'd had a mastectomy. I take my hat off (we're I wearing one) to both these individuals. It can't be easy being that honest; with others and with yourself.

Some people think that nudism is about showing off the perfect body. I've heard comments before (usually from the prudish Brits) such as, "How can she, looking like that!" Anyone who has ever set foot onto a nudist beach will know that this is not true. The Germans seem to manage this body honesty better than most nations - perhaps a bit of a surprise, given their recent history.

Body fascism may well have reached a crude and vicious pinnacle under the Third Reich but, in my opinion, it has been honed into a much finer and subtler tool under post war western consumerism. The media has banned images of imperfection. Growing older is no longer acceptable, if growing older means growing more imperfect.

Time was when we proudly displayed our scars; like trophies - a testament to our age and experience. Nowadays, it seems there is no greater crime than reminding those around us of our mortality. Wrinkles are a heinous crime rather than proof of life's experiences.

Life scars us; from the severing of the umbilical cord onwards, we become increasingly imperfect with every day that passes. And surely, it is these imperfections that we should value and hold aloft rather than that Peter Pan perfection that the media sells us.

Tomorrow we'll look at mental and emotional scars...

I woke up screaming...

I tried ever so hard to maintain my running cadence tonight but it wasn't easy. My right leg feels as if it's been put through a mangle. My calf muscle feels as if it's been shredded and my shins feel like they've taken a good kicking. It's been causing me quite some discomfort all day and continues to do so even now. I knew tonight's run was going to be a challenge and, despite a prolonged warm up, a challenge it certainly proved to be.

At about 3:00am this morning I woke screaming. I was beset by the most searing and fearful pain I've felt in a long time. It ripped deep into my calf muscle and scraped and gouged its way along my shin bone. My leg was bent back on itself and I couldn't straighten it. I breathed deeply and forcefully, blowing air out and gasping it back in short gulps. Lights flashed before my eyes as the acidic pain flared, quelled and surged again. I struggled to keep calm and remain still as the spasms of aftershocks sent me into renewed and repeated agony.

Cramps are unpleasant, often painful sensations caused by muscle contraction or over shortening... so says Wikipedia. Cramp, Wiki states, has a number of different causes: hyperflexion, hypoxia, exposure to large changes in temperature, dehydration, or low blood salt. Muscle cramps may also be a symptom or complication of pregnancy, kidney disease, thyroid disease, hypokalemia, hypomagnesemia or hypocalcemia, restless-leg syndrome, varicose veins and multiple sclerosis.

I'm not sure of the reason I suffered with it last night but, judging by how sore it still feels, I'd say that the muscle has been damaged, hence today's discomfort and tonight's difficulty in running.

Anyone want to give me a massage?

Running changed my life...

Tonight's 5km run was the first one at normal pace. I felt that I hit my mark tonight; there was a bit of bounce in my step yet it felt quite relaxed. It's odd how a hip twinge can throw you like this. It's taken nearly 4 weeks to get back to normal since I first realised something wasn't quite right. Maybe I'm too much of a wuss but I really did not want to have to spend weeks having physio and being unable to run.

It never ceases to amaze me how running has become so central to me and who I am. Time was when I would sooner walk barefoot over hot coals (I've since done that) than pull on a pair of shorts and go for a run. It just wasn't me...! And with childhood memories of Tuesday morning schools cross country runs in the rain still gnawing at my medulla, I was in no hurry to give it another go.

I started running when I was in my mid forties; scared by a story a of a heart attack a younger friend of mine had suffered. On hearing his story, I'd rushed out and panic bought a pair of running shorts, a vest and a cheap pair of trainers. The first run was bloody awful and so was the second. My legs were weak my rib cage felt at bursting point and my heart was in my mouth. I'm not quite sure why I continued beyond this point but I'm so pleased now that I did.

Something happened on that third run. Yes, it was bloody awful like the two runs prior to it but something changed: I got a high and I was hooked. From that day on, I used to get so excited about my running days and I must have bored everyone silly in work with tales of my successes (I probably still do). I started to notice a change in me and not just a physical change. Yes, I started to shed a few pounds and that was welcome but, also, I'd noticed a psychological change. I was a happier person, I was able to deal with stress a lot better and I felt more in tune with things.

My behaviour also changed, I started to eat a better diet and I cut down on the amount I was drinking. Rather than start the weekend in a bar on Friday night straight after work, I'd rush home and go for a run. What's the point in all that running if you're gonna undo any good you've gained? I began to arrange my life around my running, which all sounds a bit excessive but I promise you it's not. It's no hardship because my reward is the buzz I get from running and that is instant.

For me the advantages of running are manifold and they span physical, mental and emotional benefits. It's not an understatement when I tell you, "Running changed my life."

It's a sign from God...

When I started out on my run tonight, the sun was shining but before I'd even completed the first 500m it was hammering down with rain. Within minutes of that downpour I was wiping the rain off my sunglasses because the sun was ablaze again and shining in my eyes. Next thing, it's both dazzlingly sunny and raining heavily. This weather is (to say the least) a little strange and it's sometimes referred to as the Devil is beating his wife.

At least he wasn't gnawing on my hip. Tonight was my first run back at my usual 5km in about three weeks. I've not run that distance since I hurt my hip running around the barrage with my mate, Andy, from Bristol. My running since that time has been a leisurely 3km three times a week so it was good to get back into the old routine. Furthermore, not a twinge of the hip was felt throughout. Twinge ye not! Somebody up there likes me...

So where does such a bizarre phrase as the Devil is beating his wife as an alternative term for a sunshower come from? Well I Googled the phrase and got the usual reliable and solid Wikipedia article. The article explains a number of alternative terms for a sunshower but does not really tackle the etymology of the phrase in question. There are terms such as a monkey's wedding and a jackal's wedding to describe this weather condition along with a hyena's giving birth and witches are combing their hair. The only real consensus seems to be they all probably originated as myths that try to explain this unlikely mix of seemingly opposite weather conditions.

By far the best answer was thrown up by Yahoo Answers where sharpie08 asks,

I grew up in south ga. and i've always been told that when it's raining but also sunny outside that the devil is beating his wife. Where did this originate from?

To which the Best Answer given by red_kidney_beans is:

I think it means that God is crying. It rains when bad things are about to happen and that is a sign from God. Not always but sometimes. My pastor attended a wedding where it rained and he said "this is a bad sign" and one month later, the husband murdered the bride.

If you've recently been to a wedding where the weather wasn't tip top, you might want to pass this on...

A conspiracy of inanimate objects...

There are so many things in this life that we do not fully understand, cannot begin to explain and defy logic to the point of being hocus pocus and voodoo. Before we get to explaining what exactly gravity is or why planes stay up in the sky, maybe we should turn our attention to inexplicables of a more domestic nature.

For me, many of these mysteries are a vindictive conspiracy against me by inanimate objects; when the jam jar lid falls to the floor and lands perfectly balanced on its side before neatly rolling through the 3mm gap between the cooker and the kitchen unit; when the zip on a sweat shirt snags with the t-shirt underneath and, after much tugging, you have to be cut out of both garments; when I have to wait to get in the shower because I can't get my watch off because the folding clasp bracelet won't slide over my hand no matter what I try (although it slipped on easily enough that morning). Surely, these can only be explained by some retributive act by the big beardy man in the sky?

Tonight whilst cycling across the bridge to the pool for a swim, my bike decided to do a little vertical hop for no apparent reason. The path was smooth and I was riding slowly in a straight line and yet it did a little jump. I lost control and nearly went over the handlebars. In trying to regain control, my gonads made a sharp connection with the top of the handlebar post and I gouged a lump out of my ankle with the peddle. This, in turn, triggered an uncontrollable bout of Tourette's, much to the amusement of some passing kids.

I eventually got to the pool and managed to get changed. I limped with throbbing groin and bloodied ankle to the water's edge - looking like a re-enactment of the D-Day Landings (except in red Speedos and looking a bit gay). Swimming, I left a faint signal of blood from my peddle-gouged ankle in my wake. Had I been in open water rather than the safety of Cardiff International Pool, Great Whites would have sniffed me out in no time.

I can quite see how people believed in poltergeists. What other explanation could there be?

One small step...

Neil Armstrong wasn't chosen for the Apollo 11 mission because of his oratory skills. "One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind" is what he'd intended saying when he stepped from the Eagle (Apollo 11's lunar module) onto the surface of the moon. But it came out all wrong and, it seems, he fluffed the most momentous line of the 20th Century.

I ran tonight for the first time in a week. I can honestly say that I felt no pain, not even a twinge; although there was a slight stiffness above the hip bone toward the kidney area but this could have been to do with not having run in a week. It's a good start and it satisfied my need to just get out there and run.

Were I a young astronaut (rather than a 48 year old gay, diabetic with a sore hip) I'd have an army of boffins monitoring my every breath. I wouldn't be able to break wind without sending the medical team at Houston into blind panic. Instead, I had to monitor myself by more subjective means - sometimes known as the ouch factor.

It's strange when you're running and looking for signals from your body and how it's coping with the exertion. Every footfall is overly scrutenised and you notice things that have, in all probability, been there all along. If anything affected my run tonight it was my right knee, which felt way more weird than my right hip. If I was a religious person, I'd be praying for a positive outcome; for a trouble free run next Monday and a problem free ease back into my normal running schedule.  However, as an atheist, the only God I believe in is Richard Dawkins.

I'm just re-reading the Wiki article I've linked to above and, apparently, one of the first things Buzz Aldrin did when he and Neil Armstrong landed on the moon was to take communion. You'd have thought that after a journey that was the focus of the best science money could buy and then viewing the splendour of the Earth from the "magnificent desolation" of the lunar surface, he would have been prompted to question his religious faith. God really does move in very mysterious ways (Perhaps he's got a sore hip too?).

I'm not due to run again until Monday evening so I shall rest again over the weekend, limiting myself to a couple of swims and the odd breakfast warm up. That, I'm hoping, will be enough to allow me to turn a corner with this hip problem and get back into my regular running schedule.

I think it's a bit too early to announce that, "the Eagle has landed..."

Green with envy...

I'm going a little stir crazy with this enforced rest whilst my hip gets better. I've not run now since last Friday. Instead, I've been swimming and also gently exercising my hip every morning in the hope that I can build up strength there and also keep it flexible.

Tomorrow night I will go for an introductory short run to test if I can resume running or whether the soreness returns. If the soreness returns then I will have to see the physio for help in getting me back running.

One of the seven deadly sins, envy is also a capital vice and a cardinal sin. In addition to this, it is one of the sins of the flesh because it corrupts the body. For some further delicious corruption, listen here to Ute Lemper in Weill and Brecht's magnificent Seven Deadly Sins (IV - Avarice/Envy/Epilogue). Envy is closely related to both jealousy and schadenfreude.

And, much to my shame, tonight I was guilty of it. Whilst cycling home from work, I spotted two guys running toward me and I was envious of them. I so wanted to run like them; I was jealous that they could run and I could not. I resented this.

In Dante's Purgatory, the punishment for the envious is to have their eyes sewn shut with wire because they have gained sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low.

Just as well I'm a big Radio 4 fan...

Spontaneity...

Tonight I would normally have gone for a run but I'm resting my sore hip. And I couldn't go for a swim instead because the pool closes early on a Monday. So it was I was left in the lap of the gods...

Spontaneity is one of life's all too rare treats. The sorts of things you did as a kid on a summer's day like going to the beach or building a den. By definition, you can't plan for it, it takes you by surprise and if you run with it, you're rarely disappointed.

It started this afternoon in work. I spotted my friend Jaime who stopped to ask if I was free for a catch up later in the day, I suggested after 4:30pm when I'd be out of my meeting, she suggested 5:00pm for a drink somewhere close by, which then became drinks nearer home and that quickly segued into a meal and a few glasses of wine at Côte Brasserie in the Bay.

I've little recollection of what we talked about but a persistent memory of laughing a lot. Good weather, food, wine and, of course, company. And the best bit: it was a total surprise!

You're only as old as the man you feel...

Age is such a strange concept. I had a conversation with a woman whom I work with today and she was surprised to hear that I will be 49 in less than 3 months time. She was quite flattering, until her gob smacked realisation of, "God, you're older than my parents!" It was quite funny. To be honest, turning 49 in under 3 months is a surprise to me; in my head I'm still only 12. I got stuck there in 1974 and I haven't moved since.

Having not run since Monday in an effort to rest my hip, I did a short run tonight to test how it was feeling. To bring you up to speed, on last Sunday's run I developed a twinge at my right hip. When I ran again on Monday, that twinge turned into pain and so I've been swimming rather than running during the week. I haven't felt any pain at all whilst swimming or cycling; not even when walking. The only sensation I have of it is a slight twinge when going from a sitting position into a standing position.

I've thought about it quite a bit during the week and how I might have caused it:

• Is it my new running shoes? We'll they're nearly 4 weeks old and it doesn't really add up; I got used to them (and them me) within the first few days so it'd be a bit odd if they started causing trouble now.
• Have I turned awkwardly whilst running? Not to my knowledge and it didn't suddenly come on with a twang, such as you might expect if I'd turned awkwardly; in fact, it was quite a smooth and gradual onset.
• Have I been overdoing it? Well, I don't think so but what exactly is meant by "overdoing it"?
• Is it just the wear and tear on my body as I get older? Well, yes - I can't get away from the fact that I'm getting older and I'm less able to deal with life's knocks than a younger man. But again, it doesn't add up: I think I'm in pretty good nick for my (almost) 49 years on this planet - better than many younger men.
• Perhaps it's the product of a hyperactive imagination? Again, yes; I have one of those so who knows...

With all this mulling over in my head, gingerly, I set off on my run tonight; promising myself that if I felt pain I would stop running. After about 200m I could feel a faint, dull ache. It remained like that throughout the run: no more than a faint and dull ache. Barely perceptable, it didn't interfere with my run, although I have to admit that it was a shorter, nimbler and more careful run that I'd normally do.

Whatever it was, I hope that it means that this 12 year old is on the mend; I can really do without a visit to the physiotherapist.

My seal has withered...

I went to Cardiff International Pool for a lunchtime swim rather than an evening swim today because I was working from home. At last they've started to enforce the changing area barefoot policy. Up until recently, all they'd had was a polite notice asking that shoes be removed; some of us adhered to this and others ignored it. I'd even seen one member of staff wheel his bike through the changing area. Today there was someone sat by the entrance asking people to remove their outdoor shoes. Perhaps it's dawned on them that it's a pointless policy until everyone does it.

Today should've been a running day but following Sunday's twinge, further aggravated by my run on Monday night, I decided to opt for a gentler form of exercise in the hope that I'll be back up to speed in time for a run on Friday. Whilst swimming is a great form of exercise, it doesn't give you that exhilarating lift and afterglow that you get with running. Fingers crossed for Friday...

The pool was relatively quiet and I shared a lane with a guy who was having none of this clockwise or anti-clockwise rubbish; no, he was straight up and down on one side of the lane. Up on his right and back down on his left. I just fitted in alongside; up on my left and back down on my right. The only problem with this set up is that you're limited to 2 people per lane. I didn't complain...!

The other thing to note from today's swim was that the right eye of my goggles kept filling with water. This sometimes happens when I first put them on but a bit of re-adjustment usually sorts the issue. Try as I might today, it just kept letting in water. Perhaps the seal has withered. It's annoying in the extreme and I'm not sure if you've ever seen someone rant and swear underwater but if you'd been there today, you would have. Having one eye piece filled with water makes navigating a straight line almost impossible. Mr Straight Up & Down must've thought I was drunk as I repeatedly strayed into his side of the lane.

I must've looked like a subaqua Father Jack.

More Saga than sagger...

Last year a friend of mine told me that I should wear my jeans lower; more on the hip than the waist. Not wanting to risk comparisons with Simon Cowell, I made the change - although, I must admit, it still feels odd. I don't feel secure without a belt around my waist and, I have to say, part of my reluctance to wear my jeans lower is an aversion to the sagger look.

Dressing for your age is a hard one to guage. I don't want to turn into some sad old queen before my time; out of step with everything other than nostalgia. Equally, I don't want to become one of those older gay men who try so desperately to cling on to their youth at all costs; squeezed into the latest fashion and cramped by their own style. It's a tough life steering a safe passage between Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh.

Tonight's run was a short one. My third run in three days, I am being careful not to over do it. During yesterday's run I felt a twinge just above my right hip; like I'd strained something somewhere deep inside. By tonight's run it was transforming from twinge into pain and during the run it got worse.

As a young man, I spent my life shrugging off such pains and twinges but, as I get older, I can't help wondering is this just a fleeting pang or is this something far more serious. Is that just an ache or is this a cue for a hip replacement?

As you get older, you become less spontaneous and more conscious of everything. What once you just did, now you have to plan for first. Look at Saga and their strap line, "Doing things properly." As you get older, doing things properly becomes more important.

Of course, I make it sound like I'm over the hill and past it when, in fact, I'm nowhere near that. As the song goes, "Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December" - and whilst I'm nowhere near December, autumn is fast approaching.

I'm no doctor but...

My back is killing me. I've got a sharp pain in the middle of the left hand side. I think it's a muscular pain rather than being related to lung function. I don't think so, anyway, or else I wouldn't be able to run and tonight I wasn't short of breath or having any breathing difficulties whatsoever. In fact, tonight's run was pretty damn quick for me; 5km in just under 25 minutes. My legs felt light and sprung and I was able to accelerate easily. It felt like a smooth and energetic run.

However, because of the pain in my back I have a constant urge to press the afflicted spot hard into a door knob and to deeply knead the area. I could feel it throughout tonight's run. I think I did it whilst doing some sit ups a couple of days ago. Every morning, whilst my porridge cooks, I try to run through some simple exercises such as sit ups, push ups, lunges etc to build core strength. I felt a slight twang mid sit up a couple of days ago and I think it stems from that. I should probably visit the physio and see what she has to say.

Since I started running, injury has only once completely prevented me from running for a prolonged period; that was when I broke my ankle in 2007 and that took me out for a little over 3 months. Looking back over the last four or five years, I have certainly been in the wars. But I've managed (for the most part) to keep the running going.

I have run with my arm in bandages after surgery in 2008 to resolve my Carpel Tunnel Syndrome. The bandages were quite voluminous and when they were removed I thought them a bit overkill, given the size of the incision on my hand. I have run with my arm in plaster when I went over the handlebards of my bike in 2009 and broke the Scaphoid bone in my wrist. I have run with my knee strapped up whilst having physio in 2010 for Chondromalacia Patellae (itself related to the broken ankle and the compensations I continued to make).

I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a punctured lung stand in my way!