So a couple days ago I went to her clinic and got to see my friend in all her Physical Therapist glory. This was fun and unusual because normally we're all sweaty and in running clothes when we're together, or, as the case was last weekend when I went to watch her in a triathlon, I was in civilian clothes and she was in costume. I think she said it's actually called a "kit" but growing up a dancer I'm much more comfortable with the term "costume." It was the first triathlon I've ever attended, and after watching her and several hundred other sadists compete my thoughts were, "This is so cool! So amazing! So inspiring! I would never ever ever do this to myself!" I have read multiple times that triathletes suffer far fewer injuries than straight runners, but I have to think my lack of injuries would be a small comfort when I'm drowning in a lake trying to swim over a mile.
Anne had a student with her at the clinic, and they started by pumping my ego, oohing and aahing over my flexibility, diminished as it is by this hamstring injury I've been nursing for the past couple months. Speaking of which, our middle child may look more like his daddy, but this kid's flexibility is courtesy of yours truly.
He's always been like this, too. I mean, I know most babies and toddlers enjoy relative flexibility, but Atticus has always had crazy range of motion.
He frequently falls asleep like this,
At the clinic, after testing my flexibility and strength, it was time to hop on the treadmill for a few minutes, followed by some outdoor running. Then it was time to pop the helium-filled balloon that is my pride and gleefully watch it plummet to earth. This was done by the time-honored way of watching a video of myself run
Gravity, thou art a cruel mistress.
In the end, I got to see how specifically wonky my stride is, and Anne gave me some great advice on things I can do to begin to correct it. Why correct it? Well, because that wonkiness likely led to my apparently-not-so-random hamstring injury. Plot twist.
I've spent the last three days attempting to implement some of her exercises and tips, and as a result I feel much like this when I'm running:
At least the scenery's been pretty. Run early enough and there are only trees out there to judge you.
I keep meaning to take a picture of it, but I'm too scared to because two things are possible here: 1) This is a tree with an actual menacing face that grew out of it and it most likely does not care for scared runner paparazzi, and 2) the owner of the house and tree are people who do things like attach mean faces to their trees to frighten unsuspecting passersby. One of these is admittedly more likely than the other. Guess which one I believe to be true.