Slight Stumble

I had a massage last night, or should I say 'torture session'. While I'm very confident that it is doing a lot of good for me, it is excruciatingly painful.

Knowing that my legs were in such bad shape, I instructed the masseur to only work below the waist and skip the back, neck and shoulders. She started on my calf muscles as they were in the worst condition. So bad that she strongly suggested dry needling, a suggestion I decided to pass on (I really hate dry needling). The tight knots in my calf muscles are also causing issues with my achilles, plantar fascia and possibly even my shins. After surviving the work on my calf and achilles I thought the worst was over - I was wrong. Even though the other muscles were in slightly better condition (the emphasis on slightly), being larger muscles means more nerve endings and therefore more pain (at least that's my theory). Once the pain threshold passes unbearable, it is difficult to gauge different levels of pain. However I think the glutes were probably the worst, closely followed by the hamstrings and then quads and ITB. In contradiction to my 'large muscle/more pain theory', the plantar fascia massage felt like she was using a knife - maybe I just have sensitive feet.

When I got home, Elaine was complaining about a sore lower back. So I shared the pain by giving her a massage. Elaine also discovered that her hamstrings and calf muscles were also very tight. She hasn't decided whether or not she appreciates the massage yet.

This morning my calf muscles were still in trauma and the rest of my legs weren't much better. Even tightening the drawstring on my bathers caused pain through the top of my glutes. Whenever I kicked in the pool it felt like someone had inserted small bricks into my calf muscles. I cannot imagine how I would have felt if I tried to go for a run.

We were running late after swimming and I was in big danger of missing my train. As Elaine dropped me off, the boom gates went down indicating the train was approaching. I charged across the road and ran down the tunnel that goes under the tracks to the station. Having to dodge around a guy handing out election leaflets, I stumbled on the downhill and landed on my outstretched hands, sliding a foot or so along the rough bitumen. After a second or two of shock (and a fair bit of pain), I picked myself up and continued to the railway platform only to discover that the boom gates went down for a train going the other way. My train had already left a minute or so ago.

I washed my hands in the toilet basin as best I could and then hopped on the next train. Sitting quietly on the train with my fingers pressed together in a prayer like gesture, the blood slowly dripped from my hands creating a small pool of blood on the floor of the carriage. Not that anybody else in the crowded train seemed to care.

At Richmond station (where I change trains), I took the following photos. As you can tell, the right hand is significantly worse than the left. With the training camp coming up this weekend, I was planning to do more swimming this week. That plan is now gone, hopefully my hands will have healed enough for me to still swim on Friday morning. And hopefully I'll be able to fit my cycling gloves on for the 3 days of riding in the mountains.