My house STINKS! I walk into my house after work and am immediately hit with a stench coming from WITHIN my house. Yes, I do have two boys and a teenaged daughter, but they are not the reason my house smells. My daughter has a dog, but she is not the reason for the smell. My wife is a REALLY good cook... and that is not the reason it stinks. It smells like a mixture of Ben Gay, flowers, candy, and "Old Guy" in here. Since I have injured my calf/Achilles, I have been anointing my legs with essential oils, slathering lotions on them, bathing them with hot water and epsom salts.
Actually, let me paint the picture by simply making a list of all of the things I have done for my calves since Friday evening.
1. Ice
2. Stretching
3. Foam rolling
4. Peppermint oil
5. Lavender oil
6. Deep Blue rub
7. Epsom salt baths
8. Prayer
9. Whining
10. Rest
11. Hoping
12. Complaining
13. Blogging
and... my cousin just sent me a suggestion that I of course MUST try next
14. Nayaran Balm
15. MORE REST -- so much rest that I am feeling all sluggish and frumpy. I actually planned on naming this blog post "Frumpy".
It started hurting on Friday afternoon. Today is Tuesday. If I had to run today, I would not be able to run the entire race. I would have to stop and walk somewhere. Likely before the end of mile one. Fortunately, the race is not until Sunday. But... it IS THIS Sunday. Maybe the Nayaran Balm will cure it.
I am trying all of these things and hoping that they will do anything to make it feel better. In my mind, I believe that it is just going to take time to heal and these adjunctive therapies will do very little, but I am trying them anyway. -- and as a result, my house stinks.
I cannot remember if I have typed this story already, but I am reminded of a story that happened to me a few years ago.
Valerie bought me some workouts at a place called Speed Source Athletics. I called it Bigger, Faster, Stronger. It was basically a warehouse with astro-turf and some equipment with some trainers there to torture you. They required a test-in and a test-out. You would set specific goals and tailor your work-outs to meet your goals. I was not aware of what the test-in/test-out procedures were about. I had not researched anything. It was simply a gift from my wife -- a welcomed gift. I liked it. It was a good gift. Anyway, I go to my test-in and they have me scheduled to test-in with a high-school senior. I think I was 40. This kid was 18 years old and had clearly been working out. He asked me why I was starting this program. Apparently, most of the athletes were high-school kids wanting to go on to collegiate athletics, college athletes that wanted to get ready for the pros, professional athletes that wanted to keep their job or move from second team to starter, etc... You get the idea. My answer was, "I just don't want to get fatter."
The first thing we did was body fat analysis. We stripped down to our compression shorts and stepped into a big white egg. There was a seat in there and nothing else. I am not exactly sure how it worked, but it closed and sucked out some air and beeped and opened. I felt like Mork from Ork. I was proud that my body fat was registered at 10% and the young kid was more like 18%. So far, so good. There was a balance test. We both failed.... badly. It was hard. There was a board over a cylinder and the board had electrodes on it, so it would register when the board touched the side. You were supposed to balance on the cylinder and not allow the board to touch the electrodes. I got on it and tried to balance and nearly broke the thing as I hit one side then the other, then the other, back and forth, hitting each side HARD. Fail, fail, fail. The trainer says, "we will work on your core." GREAT!
Then we moved on to standing high jump, seated high jump, and standing broad jump. I killed him in all three!! The trainer was even impressed. (presumably impressed that such an old, white man could jump). Then we moved on to the 40 yard dash. I explained to the trainer lady that I had not run a 40 yard dash in 20 years. She laughed. -- She laughed. Then we line up and she has these laser timers set up. "Just go when you are ready. The laser will calculate your start time and clock your finish." So, I take off. I felt like I got a really good start. Head down, body forward, legs churning underneath me. I begin to raise up and pick up speed visualizing the finish line when out of nowhere someone stabbed me with an ice pick in the hamstring. I pull up lame and limp over the finish line and she records my time 6:30. I said, "6:30??? ooooh, that's bad." She said it would have been better if you had run in a straight line. UGH!!! I pulled my hamstring lady!!!!!. She asked, "Did you pull it or just tweak it?" I said, based on the severe pain, the lump of muscle rolled up to my butt and the bruise that is forming as the blood is pooling behind my thigh, I'm thinking I pulled it.
She changed her demeanor a little bit after that, but then again I was not able to see her again for about six weeks. Which is the amount of time it took me to fully heal.
I am hoping that this calf/Achilles thing is just a "tweak". Keep ya posted. In the mean time, I am going to open the doors and windows and try to fumigate a little.
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