In the last installment of Black Dog shenanigans here, we left you on the edge of your seats, (just work with me here people), waiting to see how the latest attempt at post-surgical recovery/rehab shenanigans was moving along. My angel-winged running neighbor had recommended this GUY, who, as it turns out, has proven to be the man. As in THE Man. As in, after more than two years since all of this #brokeknee crap started, has actually been able to, ya know – FIX MY SHIT – and get me running kind of like a normal running person does.
I’ll make this short as I know your attention span isn’t any better than mine.
Was I saying you something?
Oh yeah. Running rehab shenanigans.
Anywho, this GUY, not only shoved a finger in that lovely area known as the piriformis, which was immediately followed by a string of cursing the like has never emitted from my goody two shoes yap –
– but within about 10 seconds had figured out what was actually broken THIS TIME. Say it along with me kids…
“Since you’ve got a completely shut down broke ass on your right side, your left side has stepped up to the plate, tried to do the work for both sides, and has now decided it’s had enough of this malarky. It’s sending you the message, with all due respect, to go eff yourself, it’s tapping out.”
Well now. That’s pretty…..specific.
What’s a frustrated runner
idiot girl to do? Get to work of course. On BOTH sides of dear ol’ broke ass.
The next few weeks consisted of such insanity as hip and glute strength building, cursing at my new BFF Torture Tony, Elastigirl-like stretching sessions, more cursing, zapping, icing, resistance band exercises I have to determine the validity of or if Torture Tony was just effing with me, more cursing, and oh yes….running. Remember running? That bastard of a sport that started all this nonsense in the first place? That activity over which us runner
idiots types have no power to ignore, like a mythological siren’s song? Yeah, that one.
After sweating and swearing through four weeks of visits to the GUY and Torture Tony, I was as ready as I could be. I tried to ignore the knots in my gut that kept telling me…
“Too bad you didn’t find these guys a year ago.”
“You haven’t run further than 9.5 miles before your leg implodes, you know.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“There’s a big, fat Ghiradelli sea salt dark chocolate bar in the freezer.”
“Could you possibly be any more undertrained for this if you tried?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re going to have so much kinesio tape on your leg you may get mistaken for a mummy.”
“Have I mentioned you’re an idiot?”
Next up, the final chapter. Thrilled this painful journey is almost over aren’t ya? It’s okay. I understand.
Enjoy the ride.
How long have you given a new type of therapy before giving up on it? Have you ever had to apologize for swearing at your doctor? Did you find the therapy got a bit more “intense” after unleashing on him/her? Do you have cute pet names for him/her?