I wiped out on a turn on wet tiles at the BART station, a huge big fall. The bike went skidding. I went skidding. The sweetfaced skateguy said “Whoah! Are you alright?” I was, surprisingly. No broken arms this time, which is all it takes to make this a good bike fall. It would all have been fine, except that I took the entire fall and skid on my right asscheek, which was already sore from Friday.
Friday I went to see the sports therapist guy about my knee. My knee’s been bugging me. It doesn’t hurt, but I feel it all the time and I think joints should be bent and not felt. I told the knee doctor guy “I’m pretty sure it started the fall I ran stadiums, but now I feel it more the day after squat workouts.” He said “That’s your hip. Lie down on the table.” I lay down on the table, fully dressed. Without asking, he took off my belt, reached down my jeans and pressed on my hip flexor so hard that I doubled up. He flipped me over and jammed his elbow into my right asscheek hard enough to make me cry out in pain. “JESUS!” I shouted, and he said “Nope. My name is Lino.” “MOTHERFUCKER
!” I shouted the next time he elbowed me.
He explained how having tight hip flexors had tightened my ass muscles, which meant my knee was torquing during squats. I don’t entirely get that, because I don’t see how muscles carved from solid marble
can be any more tightened, but he’s the sports therapist guy. He had me stand and squat, and it is true that my knees felt good. He told me to unbutton my pants and lie back down on the table; on his way to see another client, he stopped to shove an ice pack down my pants, pat me on the shoulder and leave again. It really was a very personal visit.
His prescription for me was lots of pigeon
, which I should have known. I love stretching. I love the feel of a stretch, the pull and slight pain of it. I love just about every stretch, will happily spend long minutes deepening any contortion, except pigeon. Pigeon just sucks and makes my hips hurt. I should have connected a pending injury to the only stretch I don't like. Of course
tight hips are the weakness that showed up first.
After manhandling me like I cannot remember anyone ever doing before, he showed me some other stretches, which reminded me how much I love love love assisted stretching. I completely hated this article
about partner yoga, mostly because people’s bodies are not either gross. The author assumed we shared her snide distaste for bodies, and I don’t. Worse, I’m scared the article might discourage assisted stretching, which I love so much and never get enough of. One of my secret hopes is that the guy I date will already know or be willing to learn how to help me stretch. I don’t expect that, ‘cause it takes a fair amount of skill and work, but I would be beyond thrilled if I had someone who would help me stretch occasionally.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking lots and lots about mind-body stuff recently and have started believing that people’s ailments are linked to their minds and emotions. I really want a good map of what body part or symptom corresponds to what thoughts and emotions, but don’t know where to find one I trust. Without a good map, I’ll start putting one together by myself and it will be the usual Megan esoterica. “Sore shoulders? You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you?” “Shallow arches? I knew you were a sheepfucker.” I won’t say that out loud, because I have manners, and then it will never be disproved, which is exactly the same as being right. So I’ve been pondering what tight hips mean. Probably signifies unusual perceptiveness. Something like that.