I’m in the midst of week 3 of physical therapy for my ornery hip. The diagnosis, in case you missed it:
Weak right side
Overburdened left side, complete with bruised hamstring compliments of the yoga incident
Tight left hip that sits higher than the right thanks to said tightness and all of the above
What PT is doing:
I warmup by side stepping on the mill at 3 incline to strengthen my lateral hip movement.
PT does myofascial release on my left hip. Hurts so good.
Next comes some leg yanking voodoo designed to coax my ornery hip down into place.
Then we do a billion repeats of a million different exercises that all seem to involve butt clenching, bridging, lifting, lifting while clenching, step and clench, lunge and clench, clench and clench, you get the picture.
Remember how I laughed at that lady in line in front of me at Subway because I could see her clenching through her yoga pants? Yeah well that’s me. My life has become one massive ass clench.
You may remember last week I was all bummed because it was me and a bunch of geriatrics all getting therapy for their hip and knee replacements.
Well friends, things are looking up in the therapy gym.
Yesterday? I had the privilege of clenching next to a collegiate platform diver.
I wanted so badly to ask her how how it feels to do a half gainer with a triple twist (who does not love Olympic diving?). But I didn’t want to lose count of my clamshells.
Other Workout News:
Since last week here was a festival of rain, I rode zippo on Blanche except for Sunday. Instead I showed up for potluck cardio at the uber gym. Potluck because I’m either too lazy or too much of a dunce maybe both? to go online to see what the 8:30 workout du jour is.
Monday Cardio Kickboxing followed by PT
Tuesday Weights and PT homework
Wednesday HIT (High intensity training. Good times) followed by PT
Thursday Weights and PT homework
Friday Cardio Kickboxing (lucky me again. Eyeroll.) More PT
Sunday 30 miles on Blanche and PT homework
All of this physical therapy seems oddly indulgent. According to the physical therapist, I am to try running this Sunday. I have little to no trust in my body anymore. We’ll see how that goes and proceed from there.
Have you ever had Physical Therapy?
Was it successful?
After the race Sunday I thought I’d treat my tired self to a little bike ride and some yoga. Since my balance is always more than a little off after a race, I planned on snagging a nice cozy spot in the back, as long as split shorts guy was not there.
Alas all spots in back were already taken. So I settled for a refuge behind a bamboo plant in the front right corner. Not sure if it’s my rigid self or the instructor, but I find this class hard. Although it’s not Bikram, she cranks the heat and I am dripping head to toe by the end of class. All the better to stretch the muscles right?
There is risk in the front row. Yoga experts like the front row and today was no different.
Before class started, the lady next to me started doing elbow stands and splitting her legs apart Chinese splits style. I know, yoga is all about not comparing myself to yoga experts or anyone else. I’m here to honor my body and all that jazz. I fought to ignore her but it became nearly impossible when she started windmilling her legs around so I could feel them brush the top of my head as I waited for class to start.
So about 3/4 of the way through the class, I’m dripping wet, wondering where the hell my flexibility went but still happy I came when we do a standing straddle split. It used to be one of my favorites. Before running-induced petrification set in.
So I’m straddling and splitting and wondering if my head will even begin to approach the vicinity of the mat ever again in this lifetime. Suddenly something in my always-ornery, left high-hamstring/assular area makes a tearing sound. I see stars it is that painful. My head crashes down to the mat followed by the rest of me in a sweaty heap. I writhe in silent pain for a moment, praying the bamboo will obscure my agony. Pain turns to numbness, I take a feeble chataranga and plot my escape. What the hell just happened?
Cannot. Be. Good.
I saw Twin Cities flash before me.
Is this the universe’s way of saying Marcia stay home? Call me crazy, but part of my stubborn self is even more determined to go kick some Twin Cities booty.
I came home, put my angry behind on ice and consulted Dr Web Md. Is this a muscle pull? Strain? Tear? Despite the awful sound it made when it happened, I doubt I tore anything because it’s only painful when I stretch my leg and there’s no bruising or swelling. It’s painless to walk and I’m hoping painless to run.
What other obstacles will I need to overcome to get to
Oz Twin Cities? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know.
Have you ever pulled something that made a sound?