Posted by: runawaynotes | May 4, 2012

Core muscles. I ain’t got none.

I am not a stranger to physical therapy. A few years ago, I was in a car accident that left me with a nasty whiplash injury and a shoulder muscle spasm that took 6 months to fix. So, in my mind, physical therapy is an experience that firmly sits somewhere in the range of “painful” and “boring”. They tell you to do something that is painful, and they keep making you do this until it’s no longer painful and becomes boring (“Here, take this 0.5lb medicine ball and keep lifting it over and over and over again.”). When you are bored out of your mind and hurl the stupid ball across the room, you are considered fully cured. So, I thought that I was pretty well prepared for today’s therapy session and knew what to anticipate. The first half an hour fully met my expectations: “Lift up on your toes. Two sets of 10. Push this thing with your legs. Four sets of 10. Pull this weight with your food. Four sets of 10.” You get the picture. However, nothing could have prepared me for what Serge had planned for me next. Planks.

My initial reaction was [censored]. I mean, my knee hurts! How is making my abs hurt going to make my knee feel better? Unless I’m too distracted by the pain in my abs and the humiliation of falling on the mat after barely holding the plank pose for 10 seconds to care about my knee anymore. Well, apparently having a stronger core is going to help me with my hip alignment, which in turn will stop stressing my IT band, which in turn will stop bothering my knee. Voila! (Serge’s French-ness is beginning to rub off on me). I begrudgingly agreed that he had a point and stretched out on the workout mat in a brave attempt to hold the plank pose 10 times for 10 seconds each. After my third plank, I collapsed on the dusty mat with a pathetic groan. Dana, who was observing my torture with a look of pity on her face said “Ok, just do two more”. She might as well have told me to do backflips on a tightrope. My non-existing core muscles refused to hold for another second. Dana sighed and said “Fine, let’s move on to something else”. I should have continued torturing myself with the planks because “something else” involved my arch nemesis – the foam roller. My mind has mercifully erased the rest of my therapy session. All I know is that my right thigh is a nice shade of blue and burns when I touch it. I’m seeing Serge again on Monday. Yay.


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