I have but one word to say about deep tissue massage.
Actually I have more words. Like “Ow! That hurts” and “mmmmmmmmmmmm…………….that one is kind of painful!” and some other words that only rattled around in my head and did not come out of my mouth.
I went to get
brutalized massaged, twice today. The first time was for an evaluation but he just couldn’t hold back. He found a bone in my foot that was slightly twisted and stuck so he needed to get that fixed and then he broke up some adhesions and pounded on some mineral deposits behind my knee.
Who was I to complain – his goal is to get me to Wildflower because he’s a Wildflower guy himself. He’s doing the Long Course. He was impressed that I was taking on Wildflower as my first ever Oly. I try not to think about it.
Anyhow, he decided I needed to go back for more with the massage therapist and since he was a cute guy I agreed. I had to overlook his crocs but once I did that I was good to go.
I actually got to go in one of those ‘ding dong’ rooms where they have the gentle drum music playing and it is so pleasant. But where was the soft bathrobe and the scented oil and the fresh sheets and the getting naked part? Nowhere – it wasn’t there. It was just me in my clothes and a cute guy who hurt me a lot. He was cute but he wasn’t gentle. He had a job to do and psuedo seduction was not on the menu. Story of my life.
The official word is that I’m okay to ride my bike, I might be okay to run this Sunday. And Wildflower – here I come.