injury

Prepping the voodoo doll

“Holy frick! FRICK! FRICK! FRICK! What the hell is that?” Words that exited my mouth not even 10 minutes into yesterday’s physiotherapy appointment. I had visions of spiked clubs, electric shock and iron maidens with Dear Physio at the end of them filling my head with every body twisting stab of pain going through my left butt cheek. Had I seen that bendable needle, the length of practically my arm, before it was inserted, Dear Physio likely would have had bruised shins… Or worse. As many of you know, I’ve sung the praises of Dear Physio for years. He is a miracle worker slash ailment curer. But oh man, yesterday, he was so close to having a voodoo doll, complete with torture pins of its own, made in his honour! For more than a month I’ve been dealing with a niggling pain in my butt; I thought it would subside …

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Welcome to sucksville

You know what sucks… Waking up at 5 am for a run, and not being able to run. You know what sucks… Squeezing into a sports bra, which, seriously, is no easy task, all for naught. You know what sucks… Fueling up for a run, but not actually running. You know what sucks… Spending a whole week icing, Advilling, stretching, foam rolling, being a good little injured runner, and yet, seeing hardly any positive steps towards healing. You know what sucks… Running 200 meters only to be struck down by the feeling of hammers ferociously pounding down on your pelvis. You know what sucks… The memories of not being able to walk a week prior instilling the fear of the running gods in you and stopping you dead in your tracks. You know what sucks… Sitting on a bench at 5:30 in the morning frantically sending worried emails to your …

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The Sami Salo of runners

Update on this week’s training: I haven’t done anything, nada, nothing, nil, zilch. In my defense, yesterday was technically a rest day, although I usually go to pilates, but because of Victoria Day, the pilates studio was closed, and today when I got to work, my first day back after two-weeks of holidays, I discovered I had a school board meeting tonight (which by the way I was so NOT happy about given that there was a Canucks playoff game on … this is the THIRD time the district has scheduled a meeting on significant playoff/olympic game nights! Forget that the meetings were scheduled a year in advance, they should have known, or at the very least, they should have rescheduled … so really, it’s not my fault if my stories end up with more Canuck’s highlights than school business; yes, I had my laptop with me … for note …

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Stop and smell the … dandelions?

Forget roses, forget lilies, forget sunflowers and buttercups, I love dandelions. Always have. As a kid I’d run through fields of dandelions, taking in their bright yellow sunshine hue, and that pungent spring scent, and the second I saw the ones in their last days, I was the first to multiply them with a quick blow (and a wish) of their diminished petals. I am one of those people who, if I had a lawn, the bylaw officers would be pounding my door down, because there is no way I’d be mowing it – it would be a field of beautiful, contagious dandelions. Heck, mine and Mario’s first dance at our wedding was to Dandelion by Audioslave. Love them! And recently, with the prevalence of spring upon us, I’ve been reminded of another greatness that is the dandelion. Its scent doesn’t make me want to hurl while running! It’s true, …

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