I’ve spent a lot of time being pissed off at my knees.
If you know me, you know I have osteoarthritis in both of them. Some days they’re pretty good. Other days, not so much. And on those days, I’ve been known to say things like…
“My fucking knees are killing me.”
I get frustrated with them. I get angry. I wonder why they can’t just work the way they used to.
But something happened during my yoga practice today that completely changed the way I think about them.
My teacher Jenny said something about thanking the different parts of my body. And for some reason, I immediately thought about my knees.
But this time, instead of thinking about everything they can no longer do, I thought about everything they’ve already done for me.
And suddenly I realized something.
These knees have been taking care of me for more than seven decades.
They ran with me. They carried me through short runs as well as marathons. They pedaled mile after mile on long bike rides. They carried a backpack through endless miles of the Grand Canyon.
They climbed mountains. They skied down mountains. They took me on trails, through cities, across countries, and into places I never would have experienced without them.
They’ve gotten me out of bed every morning. They’ve carried me toward people I love. They’ve helped me experience an entire lifetime.
And all this time lately, I’ve been yelling at them because they hurt.
What the heck was I thinking?
They aren’t betraying me. They aren’t letting me down.
They’re just getting older.
Just like I am.
So today, lying there during yoga, I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done before.
I thanked my knees.
Not jokingly. Not casually. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart.
I told them how grateful I was for every mile. Every mountain. Every run. Every bike ride. Every ski day. Every adventure. Every ordinary step that I never even thought about at the time.
And then something happened that surprised me.
A few tears came out of my eyes.
Because for just a moment, I stopped looking at my knees as two damaged body parts that were causing me problems.
I saw them for what they really are.
Two old friends who have carried me faithfully for most of my life.
And maybe now they need a little more patience from me. A little more kindness. A little more gratitude.
I don’t think I’ll ever look at them the same way again.
They may hurt tomorrow. They may hurt a lot. I may have to change what I do because of them.
But I’m never going to be angry at them again.
They’ve already given me far more than I ever had the right to expect.
And now, when they hurt, I’m going to try to remember what that pain really means.
It means they’ve been used.
It means they’ve carried me.
It means they’ve lived this life right alongside me.
So when they ache, instead of cursing them, I think I’ll just put my hands on them and say something I should have said a long, long time ago.
Thank you.
Thank you for every mile.
Thank you for every mountain.
Thank you for carrying me this far.
And however many steps we have left together…
I’m grateful for every single one.
Dr. Dave
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