A few weeks ago, I may have sprained my MCL while climbing. I was in a tight drop-knee position in our gym’s cave when I heard a pop, followed by a bit of pain on the inside of my knee. The pain quickly subsided, and I didn’t think much of it at first. I kept climbing, conservatively, and it seemed fine until I twisted the knee again, and it told me to stop. I was still a bit unsure, but a friend urged me to stop and put my shoes away.
I experienced no pain, but I did notice some looseness in my knee that evening. I took a walk, and it was almost completely unnoticeable. But, lo and behold, the pain set in later in the evening. The next day, walking was difficult and painful, especially when starting to move. The pain was sharp on the left (inside) of my right knee. It loosened up after moving around a bit, and the pain would soften, but if I sat for too long, standing up again was misery.
The next day, I woke up without pain. Moving was fine, as long as I didn’t twist my leg. It was so pain-free that I would become complacent until I turned the wrong way, and then I would be startled back into reality. The looseness was back, now that the pain had mostly subsided, but at least it wasn’t hard to get around.
It’s hard to believe that it’s only been two-and-a-half weeks as I’m sitting here writing this. The looseness is gone. One of our coaches, who is a PT by trade, said he thought the looseness was likely inhibition and gave me some exercises to do to work back toward disinhibition.
Since I didn’t want to (couldn’t) run or climb, I got in the pool for a couple of days to swim laps. I know it’s great for me, but there’s something about swimming that I just don’t enjoy for exercise. But I did it anyway, followed by sitting in the hot tub, and my leg certainly started feeling better.
I started some test runs about 5 days post-injury—just on the road, short(ish) distance and slow. Day one was a 5K at a 9:30-minute mile pace, followed the next morning by a 4-mile run at an 8:10-minute/mile pace, since there was still no pain. I swam for a few more days before doing some truly slow runs because of a persistent shin splint.
Last weekend, I decided to hike. I got a very late start on Saturday, around 5:30 pm, to see if I could complete the full Granite Tors Loop (15 miles, 3400 feet elevation gain). The weather forecast was for scattered showers and thunderstorms. I was a little apprehensive about the knee, mainly because I was worried about the uneven terrain and the fact that it would probably hurt more on the descent—but by then it would be too late.
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I was pleasantly surprised at the outset, mainly with my cardio and general leg strength. It was probably my best pace hiking the trail with gear. The thunder started just as I was nearing the welcome tors (about mile 5). This would be my best place to turn around if I were to bail. Despite the storm, I decided to go for the whole loop. Once you crest the first part of the ridge, it’s down into a small saddle before climbing up to the other side of the Tors ridge, and by then, you might as well be in it for the long haul. That’s when the storm started.
The rumbling moved overhead when I was down in the saddle, but from my vantage point, it didn’t look like the storm was moving very fast (or at all). Seeing as it was already 8 pm and I had about 8 miles left to hike, I decided to keep going rather than wait out the storm. Throughout my life, I’ve always been anxious about thunderstorms when I’m out hiking and backpacking, and I’ve had some serious close calls in Wyoming and Colorado, lending credence to my paranoia. Whenever I feel anxious, I use humor or goofiness to pull myself out of it. Even all alone, it helped keep me moving this day when my brain was telling me to hunker down and wait it out.
The rain started while I was hiking the last open stretch between the saddle and the trail shelter, and it rained hard! I had to pack away the camera and put on my pack cover. I didn’t bother with my rain pants because I knew that with all the underbrush I was going to be walking through, and how wet this portion of the trail is anyway, any attempt to keep my legs dry would be fruitless. It would be better to just have a dry pair of pants I could change into later if needed.
It wasn’t long before I was soaked through. The relentless rain was one thing, but walking through dense underbrush for most of the remainder of the hike just made it impossible to stay dry. Since I had to pack away the camera after a quick visit to the Asgard Tor anyway, I switched modes to “get down as quickly as possible,” only being slowed down in the first mile or so after the trail shelter by wet talus and dense brush.
The northeastern ridge always feels tedious to me. There aren’t many views, and the trail just drags on for a long time, with numerous ups and downs before finally descending to the Rock Creek valley. Hiking is a meditative activity for me, but this section sometimes tests my mental fortitude, especially when my feet and hands are beyond soaked.
Especially encouraging was the absence of knee pain (you know, beyond the normal amount of knee pain). My legs also felt great, even at the end of the hike. My only complaint was that the bottoms of my feet were starting to hurt, but that’s pretty normal when I’m wearing very low-cushion running shoes, especially while carrying a pack full of camera gear.
By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, the rain had stopped entirely, and the sun was setting behind the northern horizon. I even caught a glimpse of sunset colors just above the northern hills.
You can check out all of my photo uploads from the day here: July 19, 2025 – Granite Tors
