When your job is truly a pain in the a$$
Friday I went to see the Exorcist. She’s a pretty, petite redhead and if you saw her at the grocery you’d think she looks like a very sweet, nice person.
She does Bowen Technique which consists of me lying face down in a calm, quiet room with Yanni playing softly in the background as she gently prods my back. After few minutes, lulled by her gentle touch and calm demeanor, I relax. At that moment, with her super human psychic abilities, she senses my vulnerability and crams her fingers up to the knuckles in my thigh, my quad, my back, my calves – whatever seems most likely at that moment to make me levitate.
She’s checking me out. She asks, “What did you do?”
“Ummm,” I think. I bet this is a trick question. It never seems to go well after this point.
“I ran?” I posit hesitantly.
“No, to your back.”
“Ummm,” I think. I knew it was a trick question. “Nothing?”
“The entire right side of your back is out and higher than your left”
You know, I’m starting to feel a bit paranoid about all this. I’m concerned I could be the only person who repeatedly shows up at her clinic with some part of my body on crooked, falling off, up too high or down too low. I feel it demonstrates some lack of responsibility on my part, as though at night when I get ready for bed I take off my body and throw it in the corner of the closet where it lies crooked and crumpled and the next morning I fail to take the time to starch and iron it properly.
Last week when I mentioned to hubs that I thought I had a muscle strain in my quad he pointed out that I should probably know, what with having that M.D. and all. Apparently he was right because I didn’t have a quad strain after all.
If you run a few days a week and work out with a trainer, but then spend 8-10 hours of the day for several weeks during the busy time of the year for work, sitting on a chair in front of a desk, and you don’t practice Safe Posture, you will dork up your back. I knew that. I’ve been doing it for years.
However, another thing that can happen is that your hip flexors can get so tight that they radiate pain into your quad. My back was all dorked up because it was trying vainly to pull everything back where it belonged, while nothing wanted to cooperate, and in the meantime my butt was trying to fall off again partly due to the fact I was sitting on it non-stop. It seems my body has failed to understand the concept of teamwork. Its motto: All for None and None for All.
I’ve decide on none of the above. I’m just going to blog about it.
Also I’m about fed up with all these positive, happy, do-gooders posting sh*t all over FB about being a better person and not letting the little things get to you and being positive and centered and mature.
Here’s my philosophy:
And also this:
And this:
Ok. That’s not really a philosophy, just eye candy. But, see? I can post positive things. Positively gorgeous.
With Yanni in the background doing musical things that sound tinklingly musical The Exorcist proceeded to exorcise those damn non-compliant muscles until they begged for mercy. When she was done I was allowed to sit up on the side of the table. Apparently dorked up muscles get pissed when forced to behave, plummeting blood pressure to middle earth. After several minutes I stood. As I rocked back and forth a bit I thought how it’s funny, most people do not realize how unstable the surface of the earth actually is. Probably just a minor earthquake.
I stood there for a minute before I realized what that strange feeling was: Nothing hurt.
I said to Brain, “hey – you’d better do an All-System check, here. I can’t feel my butt trying to fall off.”
Brain was gone for a minute and then reported back that all of me was still there.
Wow. This must have been how it felt to be a kid. I don’t actually feel most of my body parts, they’re just all hanging out, cooperating.
Of course it didn’t last, the next morning I felt as though I’d been hit by a small truck, but it was a good hurt, the kind where you can stretch it out and feel things start to settle a bit. I was not allowed to run until Sunday morning, and then only if I did not race. I was good, I didn’t race, and although my legs felt tired I didn’t hurt. I ran again Tuesday and my butt still wants to fall off; I’ll text E. and tell her. It’s interesting, the body, how it works. One part hurts which causes another part to pull the slack. That part gets worn out and a third part is called in. By the time you hurt enough to go to an Exorcist you’ve got Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon going on in your body.
Oh those bones, oh those bones,
oh those skeleton bones.
Oh those bones, oh those bones,
oh those skeleton bones.
Oh those bones, oh those bones,
oh those skeleton bones.
Oh mercy how they scare!
