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Happy Knees

April 16, 2009

This week at our planning meeting, I took pictures of knees. (With permission, of course.) Below the jump are the knees of some of us here at Happy Bodies, and their thoughts on this part of their body.

I have a really antagonistic relationship with my knees. I love the feeling of working out, especially running on the treadmill and outside. I fell very held back by my knees and their abilities. I’m really over having an amazing workout where I feel really energized and in touch with my own body’s capabilities, and then the next day feeling knee pain. It’s not that I feel out of touch with my body – but ONLY my knees. Anyway, I’m pretty over those things.
– Becky

My knees are generous abode buttes, at once fluid and and stable. The skeletal architecture really is astounding in its mobility. I thank them and think of them particularly when I’m riding my bike, as the fibula rises to the femur, allowing me to propel my whole body. Thank you, Knees.
– Britta

I am a guilty culprit when it comes to lack of thought about knees. I rarely stop to think that if I didn’t have my knees, I wouldn’t be able to keep the beat in choir and dance to the music I’m creating. Without the ability to bend my legs, I’d never be able to get to the floor– which is important when you have young nephews who want you to play with them –unless I fall over. Of course, once I’m on the ground, not having knees would mean that I couldn’t get up and I must say, life would be a little difficult if you had to roll everywhere.
– Carolyn

This is my left knee. When I was 14, I skinned it really badly in an ill-fated attempt at the long jump. Freshman year I fell off a yellow bike and knocked the whole thing out of whack. It took months of physical therapy to get it back to normal. But it’s done great things, too. Last summer my knees carried me 300 miles on the Camino de Santiago. And really, any part of my body that helps me dance like a madwoman on a Saturday night is OK by me.
– Emily

So, my knee. When I was younger, I couldn’t run very gracefully, or with any coordination, because I was rather pigeon toed. I still ran around–A LOT–but the impact of my awkwardly skewed feet hitting the ground always made my knees and hips hurt terribly. Then, when I was about 14 years old, I went to the podiatrist and got specialized orthotics for my shoes. With proper arch support, my feet no longer turned inward, and so, I didn’t look like a 2 year old when I walked anymore! Without pigeon feet, I realized I was able to run faster, farther, and longer–without pain in my knees! My knees serve me well, now, and I’m especially appreciative of the fact that I can run.
But, alas, the scars on my knee are a testament to the sad truth that even without my bird feet, I am still clumsy. Last summer, I tripped while running, and scraped up my knee. But that’s okay. It just shows that I’m hard core.

My Right Knee
This is the first time I have looked at my right knee in quite a few weeks. I’m surprised by how the skin is slightly dry and pale. After coming out of its winter cave my knee looks a little worse for wear leaving me worried now that it is sundress season.
– Jenny

I’m a huge klutz, something I often wear on my knees. These bruises are from banging my knee on my boyfriend’s desk, and tripping down the stairs of the building that houses my future grad program.

– Jill

About my knees:
I have a scar on my left knee that looks like a stegosaurus. I think about my knees quite a bit because I have patella tracking problems (a lot of women have this because our wide hips put our knees at a funny
angle). I have to do physical therapy exercises and wear orthotic insoles so that my knees don’t hurt. Having problems with my knees has made me really appreciate it when they work right, and made me realize
how much I would really like for them to keep working in the future.

– Lisa

I wish my legs were more muscular, but I’m a fan of their hair.

– M.

This is my right knee. That scar is from the ACL reconstructive surgery I had the summer before my junior year of high school.

Some of my family members have suggested that I look into plastic surgery, to make it less noticeable. I might think the scar is cool now, but what about when I was older, and wanted to wear skirts? Wouldn’t I be self-conscious?

Fact 1) I tore my ACL in a basketball game my sophomore year. I was a starter on the Varsity team.
Fact 2) My doctor told me that there was no way I was going to be able to play in junior year, to set my sights on senior year instead.
Fact 3) I played in all but the first two games of my junior year.

My scar reminds me what I and my body are capable of. We have a will and an ability to work hard, and a resilience to make a come back. I can only be proud and appreciative.
– Nikoleta

Thank god my knees work. My uncle’s knees both blew out, and he had to get them replaced with those plastic joints, like they have in Barbie dolls (I swear the medical type is just a scaled-up version of the toy type). But none of my blood relatives have bad knees, so I should be OK. My uncle can’t even really work out anymore, because it makes his knees hurt to bad.

I also have scars on my knees, from softball in high school. I’m really proud of them, I feel like they prove how tough I am. I mean, most knees are kind of ugly, but at least mine are interesting. And tough.
– Kristine

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