Ah, spring -- when a middle-aged man's fancy turns to thoughts of old injuries.
It's becoming increasingly apparent that every spring is going to involve what Paul Fournel calls (and I'm paraphrasing here), "a revival of an old argument with a cantankerous knee." I successfully tried running through the whole winter at base/moderate levels, my cardiovascular capacity climbing while my legs retained some of their strength from last cycling season. But, for the fourth year in a row, once we hit March and April and I start adding intervals and hills, my left kneecap starts getting that lovely mortar-and-pestle feeling.
By now, fortunately, I know not to panic. Mostly.
If I stretch a lot, increase intensity slowly, and in the meantime just accept the aches and pains of an aging human body, I'll probably be strong and fit by May. (We'll see; moderation is still not my strong suit.) Even so, every year, it's a little annoying and worrisome.
Ah, the rites of spring.