Battered and Bruised

This morning, I lay flat on my back in the middle of our garage as the hubby slowly backed up the car making sure both right tires ran over my left shin.  Then, cringing in pain I cried out “Do it again! This time slower!”

Okay, it didn’t exactly happen that way.  For the most part, only the intense, grit-your-teeth pain is real.

– My left leg gets some ice before the “massage” – 

I went for my third visit to the physical therapist this morning.  After eight days of shin pain, limping, and absolutely no running, I knew it was time to bite the bullet—or, in my case, the towel if I wanted to run again…quick.  

Since last week, after consulting my doctor about this shin pain (which, as it turns out, is not at all related to my runner’s knee— how lucky am I, huh?), I’ve been to 3 therapy sessions, which to put it quite simply is not my idea of fun.  

The doctor ordered the therapist to “release” my shins, which is probably the scientific world’s version of tough love for athletes.  By “release”, the doctor means that the therapist will massage, push, shove, depress, elbow, manhandle the area of injury for around 5 minutes until all those tiny lumps in the muscles have disappeared—and the patient has been reduced to a little helpless fetus who can barely utter a sound due to exhaustion.

The two “release” sessions last week were tough and, silly me, each time the therapist would attempt to do her stuff, I would pull my leg away in fear of the pain that was about the run through my body.  In hindsight, I wonder if she got any work done at all.

On the second session, as she tried to push on my already bruised leg (which was released two days before), I shut my eyes saying “ouch ouch ouch” reaching almost a meditative state only to have my doctor enter the booth to say as politely as he could “Please be quiet.  You are going to scare my other patients.”  I wanted to pull my shirt over my face in embarrassment.

Today was different.  Eight days of no running had turned me into a monster over the weekend and I had to put an end to it.  Last night, I told my hubby in the bravest voice possible “I’ll visit my therapist tomorrow and ask her to release my shins and get rid of these lumps—no matter how painful.  I just want to run again.”  The hubby nods in silence, but I read his mind and it said “I hope you know what you’re doing!” Then, I immediately add “Do you think taking a double dose of Ponstan before the session will help?”

To cut a long story short, my therapist did release my shin again this morning.  And, as I was very cooperative (you should’ve heard me screaming “Bring it on, Lady!”—kidding!), she was able to reduce the lumps significantly, although not entirely.  The towel she gave became my best friend during those long 5 minutes of my life; it became my mask (one must cover one’s hideous, pain-filled face), sound-muffler, tension-reliever and, of course, sweat-absorber.  It looked like I had been to hell and back in all of those 5 minutes, but when the therapist assured me that I could run again as soon as these lumps were gone, I knew it was worth it.

So, yes, I do feel that a car ran over my shins this morning.  But, I have a feeling that one last session of tough love on these bones of mine will get me running again by the end of the week.  Anything for running, baby!