making the connect

My knees hurt when I run.

Heredity's a front runner for that. There's also the part where I'm finding my cadence again after an injury-motivated hiatus. It might also have something to do with my Tough Mudder Party of One when I took a digger during my first tour back a few weeks ago. 

But the pain is worth the reward of endorphins, and there's a peace that a personal pace can bring. 

"The knee bone's connected to the..."

My friend said that strengthening my inner leg muscles would help, would keep the knee cap from straining and pulling.

While I won't be Amazon-Priming a thigh master anytime soon, I'll find a way to heed what she is saying. 

"The thigh bone's connected to the..."

It makes sense, of course, that whatever's aching maybe needs to call on the other parts to buoy, join in the strengthening. That whatever joint's forgotten how can be reminded by that which remembers when. 

We fashion these strongholds throughout life and sometimes overlook the steadfastness of certainties, the steely reserve that's fortified throughout our experiences, our exertions, our strides, and our recoups.  

"The hip bone's connected to the..."

The Tin Man always had a heart.
The Lion, already courageous.
The Scarecrow, a brain and more. 

They just needed to lock arms, look ahead, get a nudge, and sometimes skip along their yellow brick path full of promise. They needed to bump into one another, see how one could support the other, and find that what they needed was there all along. 

"The backbone's connected to the..."