Thursday, February 21, 2013

Physical Therapy

About a month ago me and my best friend the tredmil were shooting for 20 miles.  At 19.4 my right calf let loose 3 & 1/2 years of bottled up protest.  (I got a crazy mean charlie-horse.)(Cause I haven't stretched -EVER- in all the 3 & 1/2 years I've been running.)  The golf-ball size rock in my calf has been spreading the love and the arch in my foot has started hurting too. 

So today I found my self at a physical therapy appointment.  And can I just say that I loved it.  Call me selfish but it felt amazing to have an entire hour, all about ME.  I had 2 people's undivided attention and it was all about me, me, me.  My life (as is every other mother's) is so NOT about me.  But for an hour, in that building, there was no one else to worry about, no one else to take care of.  And someone was devoting their entire thought process to what I needed.

A part of me feels really silly.  When I think of physical therapy I think of someone who is crippled or debilitated in some way and not functioning in life and needs the therapy to get back to normal.  As a person, I function just fine.  I go about life without a hang up.  So part of me feels almost ridiculous for going to physical therapy.  I'm trying to remind myself that as a "runner" I am NOT functioning.  My right leg range of motion is 1/2 what my left leg is, and my left hip flexibility is 1/2 of what my right hip is.  Not to mention the pain in my arch.  So it is really good for me to go.  I just feel like going is a luxury.  A luxury that I have a hard time labeling as a "NEED" cause I technically function.  And I feel bad cause there are people who aren't functioning in life and really need to go and can't afford it.  I feel spoiled rotten and very blessed to have nice insurance. 

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