My back has been whimpering at me for the last two months. I get it. How can I expect to get on my tri bike after nearly a year hiatus and expect my body to conform to--and rejoice in--the aero position? I know that when I drop my strength-training workouts my back suffers, but how could I possibly keep it all up? So with the triathlon safely behind me it was time to step it up in the gym. And so I did.
First box jump I teetered. Ouch. But surely it would get better once I got going? Second box jump my eyes crossed. Third box jump I saw the futility in going a fourth time, but I did and was so pissed that the workout was not going well I jumped a fifth time. That was the end. I could not power through, overcome, force myself, will power my way through.
Dammit.
That approach works for me more often than not.
Fine then. A few weeks rest. Yoga. Massage. Epsom Salts. Foam Roller. I'm throwing everything at it to see what sticks.
It still really hurts. I don't feel like blogging about "finding fitness in the chaos of motherhood."
Dammit.
The upside? I'm walking the dog more. I'm sleeping in. My house--well 90% of it--has been swept or vacuumed. I am rekindling my love for yoga.
I am trying not to think about how much I want to run.
I will not post again about "finding time for rehab in the chaos of motherhood."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment