Now some might argue that my mistress of pain looks like this, and most days I would probably agree with you.
But today the face of pain looks a little different; her name is Andrea.
Andrea is the massage therapist I started seeing this year in an effort to recover better and faster from my training efforts. She is an athlete so she knows all the spots that need extra attention.
Lucky me, I’ve been blessed with being extra-tight just about everywhere so I provide Andrea with lots of material to work with. In particular though, I retain some spectacularly huge knots in my glutes (product of that back injury from a few years ago) and a lot of tightness in the hips. So I give Andrea the green light to dig in and do whatever she has to in order to make it better. Given that I haven’t had a single back flareup since I started working with her, this pays off BIG-TIME in my opinion.
With 10 days till Boise, and after my last big build of training beat me up well, I wanted someone to take a crack at my sore spots and whip them into shape.
Our sessions always start out innocently enough, like any other massage I’ve had. A little neck massage, a little digging in my tight shoulders, and then…
My favorite (where’s the sarcasm font when you need it?) part is when she digs an elbow into my glutes and applies all the force of her body weight while torqueing my leg back and forth to get that pressure into more of the glute muscle and hip flexor.
Yoga breathing comes in handy at moments like these, as I’m gripping the sheets and praying for it all to be over soon. I take long slow deep breaths to make sure I’m not flexing my muscles tightly, because that would just mean it would take her longer.
And then finally, it is over. She strolls out casually, while I lie slumped between the sheets, wondering why she couldn’t have at least thrown me a bone at the end with a little footrub or something. Le Sigh.
Isn’t it grand, the things we do in the name of health and fitness?