But we can't stop running, because we are in love. Until injury hits you like a brick wall (or a semi truck) and lands you on your butt. Wind knocked out. Shocked to watch the running turn it's back on you for days, weeks, months.
Once you've been brick-walled and/or semi-trucked you catch your breath and then you start crawling back. You aqua jog at 5am and see your PT more than your friends, you might even go under the knife and, of course, you your make pleas to the running gods and then ... you're back. Because running isn't puppy love. It's lifelong, through sickness and health kind of love.
Anyway what I'm trying to say is my knee is being a jerk.