The Miracle Worker

I broke myself.

Not running.


I broke myself doing yoga.

Note:  Do not give into distraction while transitioning between poses.  You might let out a breath and tweak a nerve in your hip so severely that you need a walker.

Okay.  I don’t need a walker but sitting, standing, laying down, walking, running or anything else that doesn’t involve floating in a pool of water HURTS.

Feel free to laugh.  The irony is not lost on me that other than the normal stiffness in my right ankle resulting from the combination of wearing high heels then running distance (NOT in high heels), I have been perfectly comfortable and fine but the instant I do yoga, I almost kill myself.

How does this happen?  First, yoga IS hard.  But this didn’t happen in the infamous “Bird of Paradise.”  Nope.  It happened while I gently transitioned from a fabulously stretchy pigeon to the half lord of the fishes (aka the pretzel from cross country).


I have done this transition about a million times.  This fateful time, however, the boy peaked his head in and asked me a question so while I continued to transition, I looked over the opposite shoulder and momentarily exhaled followed by SCREAMING bloody murder from the pain.

And as I said before, the pain eased and I moved on without incident.

But a few hours later I was hobbling around the office in more pain than Aleve can fix.

So there has been no Insanity this week.  No running.  No cycling.  And apparently not sleeping either.

Last night I made a visit to my friendly and oh so helpful flyball teammate who just so happens to be an incredible massage therapist (That is totally why he is on the team.  Not really.  He is an amazing guy.  His mad massage skills are just a serious bonus.).  We worked and worked on it.  Or rather, he worked on it and I refrained from crying or kicking him because he really IS a nice guy.  At one point I suggested we just cut the offending appendage off.

Then without warning, the heavens opened up and a choir broke out into the “Hallelujah Chorus.”  A cool wave of calm release ran from my hip all the way down to my toes.  I am now referring to my teammate as the Miracle Worker.

I’m not perfect.  I still have a few more days of recovery left.  But the intensity of pain has decreased dramatically.  I have regained my mobility and I even slept last night.  It amazes me how a simple (okay, it wasn’t simple-it was a highly skilled negotiation with a very angry injury) massage can decrease recovery time tenfold.

As another bonus…the ankle stiffness is all but gone.    I need to find more cute ballet flats because I am shoving all my heels into the depths of my closet until after March.

Thank you, Miracle Worker, for giving the healing process a big boost!

Hopefully I will be back out and running this weekend!  Not 33 miles, but some form of running!