The Opposite Of "Cowboy Up"

I have been felled by cowboy apparel.

This after 11 months of training, 28.5 miles of a trail race, and two weeks of post-race recovery—all without pain, let alone injury.

"Cowboy down"

Four weeks of occasionally wearing cowboy boots, though, and suddenly I have a knee injury? I mean, come on. How does that work?

I have a theory.

In running shoes (almost all I ever wear), I am a mid-to-forefoot striker (and have been for years).

In cowboy boots (which I rarely wear), I'm a chunky-1.5-inch-heel striker. The biomechanics (and stability) are hilariously (ominously?) different. 

So why am I even a little surprised?

Perhaps because I'm 14 years removed from my last knee injury—a torn ACL that required surgery and a year of rehab—so I *may* have assumed I was now immune to such things.

Anyhoo, that's my guess as to the cause-of-injury, symptoms of which include "Hey, that fcking hurts" whenever I use my left leg for something other than visual symmetry.

Quintas, in the wild

The diagnosis? I have an orthopod appointment in a couple weeks to determine that. With luck, it'll be something silly, like the phase of the moon combined with tropical variability in barometric pressure—all of which we'll laugh about later.

In the meantime, though, I'll be over here not-running, losing all my fitness, and occasionally wearing cowboy boots—because horses.

For the record, yes, he's worth it.

They all are.