physiotherapy

Release me

This morning my alarm blasted at 4:30 a.m.. For some reason I had booked a physio appointment for 7 a.m. Take note, my physio is located in the valley. On a good day, that’s 45 minutes away, but more likely an hour away. I probably could have got away with another 15 minutes of sleep, but I did not want to take any chances with being late for this appointment. I’d been waiting three weeks for this date, there was no way I would screw it up by being late. I walked through the door and the first person I saw was Dear Physio. He had a quizzical look on his face, but I just figured it was early. I walked up to the receptionist. We don’t have you on the list, she says. What? I booked an appointment, I made it three weeks ago. She looks in her computer… …

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Day of reckoning

I had a lot of things I needed to get done this weekend, but instead I embraced a True Blood marathon. I blame the bike trainer. Saturday morning, after laboriously cleaning the upstairs portion of our condo (my portion … of which I’d really like to hire a maid for, but Mario, the only man on the face of this earth who seems to actually love cleaning, balks at the idea :() I put on my cycling shorts, stuck True Blood in the Blu Ray player, and started pedaling. When I finished, I hopped into the shower fully intending to get a move on with my errands of the day. But then, out of nowhere, the ass magnet in my couch, pulled me down and wouldn’t let me back up again. Five episodes of Season 2 later, I was dreaming vampires! SATURDAY’S TRAINER: 11 a.m. BG before: 4.6 (4 sugar …

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Ohmygod I want her abs

What to do? What to do? What to do? I am going insane. The walking is no longer cutting it, I’m bored out of my bloody mind. I like my evenings to be full, and when I was running/cycling/aqua jogging/pilatesing they were bloody well full, so full it seems, I’ve neglected my non-running friends for the past four years, and no longer seem to have any. So now that I’ve got all this time on my bloody hands, I got nothing, nothing at all. There’s not even fall TV on yet to veg out in front of. So not cool! I’m still feeling a slight pressure in my knee (I check it every day, multiple times a day) only a slightly slight pressure though, but I’ve got my “dear” physio in my head. Do nothing, he said. Ugh. Really hating those words right now – especially seeing as how I seem …

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What the…?

No exercise. None. Nada. Zilch. No running. No cycling. No aqua jogging. No pilates. Period. What the…? Last night I sent my physio an email (an email he called ‘overly dramatic’ with a good-natured chuckle) somewhat concerned about the constant bruised-feeling in my inner knee. Within the contents of the email I may have described the feeling as a raging fireball rolling around in there that became 500 times worse after seeing the massage therapist. I wasn’t lying, I was just being descriptive is all. My moms always told me to use my words wisely. Had I written that my knee “hurt” or I was feeling “pain” do you really think he would have called me at 7:30 a.m. the following morning? Nope, I don’t think so. But he did call me; not with great news mind you. On my way to work, with my aqua jogging gear stashed in …

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The butt chronicles

Monday could have been a bad day, it had all the elements of being a super rotten day. After a restless night of tossing and turning, I woke up and before even moving, knew the pain in my butt had not gone away. In fact, it had intensified. Mario and I had planned on going for a ride that morning, but after more than an hour of icing it, rolling on the foam roller, lying on a tennis ball, and having two hot baths, I made the executive decision that my butt needed a day off from all exercise. And I was miserable, completely miserable. But an afternoon of walking along the beach in Steveston and filling up on frutti di bosco and sour apple sorbetto, my mood was lifted. Yep, my husband knows the way to my heart 😀 Dreaming of sorbetto… You know who else knows the way …

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