Tuesday, July 19, 2011


Well, I feel a little silly about that whole physiotherapy thing.

I have been trying to end the screaming in my poor old knees on this quest for a measly 5K run. I was on my third visit when the revelation hit. I had been watched running, I had been given exercises, I had my shoes examined and my hips looked at, even did some running out of my shoes (by the way, I can still only last about 90 seconds at time...), and with some consternation, one of the therapists innocently posited, "You're doing some stretching after your runs, right?"

Um, well, ummm, does stretching out on the couch trying to catch my breath count?

She showed me a simple leg-lift, the one where you catch your ankle and pull it up to your butt, and at that second, when my thigh muscle was stretched a bit, my knee stopped screaming to make way for the singing of all the little angels in heaven.

And now, since I stretch after (and sometimes during) a run, I barely ever have even a twinge of pain in my knees. How embarrassing to have wasted so much time! Boy, I wish I had been paying attention in gym class. I thought the stretching was just what you did at the end of figure skating practice so you could show off while chatting up the hockey players. Not that I had much success in that direction, either.

When I told my 11 year old niece and soon-to-be road race companion what had happened and what had fixed it, she gave me a look that only a kid in the 21st century can give an adult. You know the one: incredulity tinged with disgust and a smidgen of pity. It's the same one I give my mother when she can't work her digital camera.

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