I have a confession to make. I haven’t been doing the lower back and hip training programme I swore to do last month.
Yes, I’ve done a few of the exercises, especially the silly walk with a rubber band around my feet, but that’s far from the whole programme.
So, why am I being such a pinhead? Well. For starters, I’ve simply not had the right equipment. You see, according to the programme I need something called a foam roller. A what?! Foam. Roller? Can I use a rolled towel instead? No? Ok, I’ll do it later then.
Except that later never came. Instead pain came along. Or rather, it had started earlier already. In mid-December the backside of my knee begun hurting. I blamed it on too much dancing and babysitting de luxe. When the torturer asked me a month ago why I hadn’t been doing the training programme [he gave me in October], I blamed it on my knee. Of course.
Except that it wasn’t my knee. Apparently it was the whole left calf that I had managed to mess up. The torturer sighed that I really should do that programme. And I promised I would.
Except that I didn’t.
Which got me to last week.
One of the reasons I don’t like winter is that you start walking differently. Slippery ice and snow up to your knees make you walk really carefully and stiff, at least until you remember wobbling like a penguin gets you ahead faster. Of course you first need to spend about 13,5 minutes getting dressed to even put your nose outside the door, so unless you really have to go out, you simply won’t. (Or at least I won’t. Others might.) Suddenly you spend more time than usual curled up in your sofa. Combined with sitting in front of a computer all day long, it’s not all that hunky-dory.
And as the snow kept falling last week, I could feel the usual signals from my back. Oh, lovely. In the hopes I might stop the downfall, I went out for a two hour walk on the ice with a friend. Great workout for legs and bum, and nice seeing the city from a different angle. All good.
Except that my back refused to cooperate with me the next day. I had to dig out those hateful French pills that makes me forget my back exists and my closest friends ask “what the hell are you on?” (And suddenly you go “aaah, thaaaat’s why she didn’t realise the window was open all night”…)
After two days of standing at work, and one high night, I had a choice to make yesterday. Find a physiotherapist that’s closer than Ealing, or listen to the one I have there; buy myself a foam roller and do the damned programme. Considering my economic situation right now, I went for the 12,95€ foam roller.
Oh. My. God. Why didn’t anyone tell me to get one sooner? Fair to say, I’m deeply in love with my olive green foam roller. I think I’ll call him Bud.
So what does Bud do? Well. Basically he’s acting stand-in for the torturer. I didn’t put down more than 10 minutes on the programme last night, but afterwards, my muscles were tingling for an hour. Scientifically the explanation goes something like “deep compression helps to break up or relax tight muscles and adhesions formed between muscle layers and their surroundings”, in normal text: with the foam roller you are able to yourself apply pressure to any tender points you might have. I lost count somewhere at tender point no 17…
As a great big finale, remember I got the training programme in October… The torturer said there are some exercises dealing with current issues, and some that are preventive, as I just might get additional problems later, depending on how deep the original knots were. Had I as much as glanced at the first sheet of paper, I’d noticed the first exercise was for the calf. Just in case…
I think the phrase was post-ironic…