Not the Physio

 I'm giving in. I've made an appointment at the physio. I pinged my glute in the gym six weeks ago, of all things, getting down onto the floor to do push ups. The mat slipped from under my foot, straining my glute. 

It's been rested for the last six weeks. It doesn't hurt to walk, but I've been doing no leg weights, which I have been missing. Last night at the gym, thinking that six weeks light rest should have sorted it out, I went back to doing some light Romanian Dead Lifts. (Why is it all the yucky exercises are named after Eastern Block Communist states?). When I say light, it's light for me. I'm normally lifting double that easily. I managed the first round of 12 without an issue. I said to Chuck that although I could feel it, it wasn't hurting. The second round, at about eight pulls, something went ping and I put the bar down. 

So much for it being well rested. 

I've also had some referred pain in my foot. Just slight, but it's been there. 

And after badgering from Jay and Chuck, I'm reluctantly made an appointment with a physio. 

Am I happy about this? No. 

Why? I'm normally good at managing injuries, but this one seems to have got the better of me. I spoke to my normal remedial massage fellow who I've been with for years and he recommended somebody, agreeing that a physio might be the way to go. 

I'm still a bit reticent. 

Why?

Where some people are afraid of dentists, I have a bit of a thing about physios. Physios hurt. Physios are mean. Physios plumb right into my wounded four-year-old self when I had to go along on regular occasions to the Royal Adelaide Children's Hospital with the dastardly Miss Creswell had to check over my legs. I remember hating this. 

And my fear of physios remains (although I have a few very nice physio friends) the thought of seeing one for an injury doesn't feel good. 

I'm sure this fellow will be fine. He's got 20 years of experience. He works with elite sports people. The practice has been recommended. 

But tell all of this to the four-year-old kid with her legs in calipers walking along Kermode Street, North Adelaide, scared out of her wits, being pointed out as a cripple. 

It was over 50 years ago, but it's left a mark. 

Today's song: