The Substitute: V for TheRapist: da, da, da, daaaa

Well, it seems like forever and a day since our hero has been chronicled in the throw of Physical Therapy. But as you may have seen we have determined that plantar fasciitis is really an extreme right wing action used to keep runners grounded and down out of our runners high. Well, a shake my fist at you plantar fascists. Because shaking my foot won’t help and kind of looks stupid.

So let me explain, no that will take to long. Let me sum up. Last we discussed TheRapist I has gotten reluctant permission to run again and start my training. Did I mention that I am running the Goofy Challenge. I was told to run as long as I did not run through the pain. I agreed and frolicked out the door laughing maniacally toward my running routes.

Well, that did not stop the domination and torture of my feet and Achilles. No it was to continue. I had a chance to stop but I was assured that there was no stopping me so I must keep going just to maintain the same level of injury and not allow my legs to get into much disrepair.  I believe the words my TheRapist spat out was “You runners, I swear.”  She even admitted that she knew that she could not stop me once she let me start running again.

Either way, have been running along and going to my enhanced interrogation at least once a week for the past month and a half.  It has been great.  I would go in and she would ask how many miles I have run and what was hurting most.  Then she would flip me over and make that part hurt more.  I guess that will teach me to stop getting hurt.  Any how, it has been pretty good.   Plus I get a lot of reading done.

Then it happened.  Lets Scooby Doo to just yesterday.  Doodly, do, doodly, do.  I get a message on my cell phone.  It is PT+ (Physical Therapy Plus) telling me that my usual TheRapist will be out but I will be getting some one else to step in.  What’s this, a Substitute TheRapist?  Oh my.  Maybe just maybe this substitute will be more gentle and ask me where it hurt and avoid those sections.  Maybe it will the most pleasant experience and I will move through a wave a euphoria toward a state of Nirvana.  Nevermind, we shall see this substitute and test her for all her TheRapy prowess. 

I get in and as usual I get started off with heat.  Actually, I had to scrape the black fuzz off of my feet.  I don’t know what it is but I only where the socks that shed on the days I go to Therapy.  I don’t do it on purpose, I just put on what ever socks I got an actual pair of ready.  I move on and the substitute introduces herself and we discuss what it going on.  At this point I don’t even wonder why it is that I don’t remember her name.  She could have inserted in between every third word and I would not have caught it.  It is just my way with names.  I flip over for some ultra sound and the gel is cold but everything is cold today.  It seems like in a cost cutting measure, Delaware has turned off the heat.  Nothing special here where I get ultrasound and really don’t feel much.  It is a prolonged affect thing. 

 Then goes the manual work.  This means massaging and manipulating my muscles, tendons, and feet till I can no longer tune out the pain with reading.  I get a “man are you tight.”  At this point I informer her that I ran 32 miles over the weekend and am a little sore.  Then this is where it all changes.  She flips me over onto my back and works my feet and ankles over some more.  At one point in a ridiculing tone I hear, “Ankle goes this way, not the other.  Where is your flexibility?”  Then she does the same thing with the other foot.  Evidently my feet are supposed to flex left and right.  Weird.  More agony and at one point she even asked if I am okay.  Brain thinks and mouth says, “Bring it on”

Then it happened, we move on the lovely ice.  This is coupled with stim (a.k.a shock therapy).  I hear mutter of how our substitute doesn’t like to use stim but it seems to work.  So the shock pads are put on the bottom of my feet and turn up.  It is so funny watching my toes curl up when the current is cycled through.  What a hoot.  I get a through a few more pages of my book and then I realize I cannot take the pain in my foot anymore.  It was turned up way to high and even I the man that I am with the fantastic calves that I have knew when to call it a day.  They quickly turned it off and let me settle down with just ice. 

In the end, it was all good and the Substitute was as effective as my TheRapist in making my appreciate the best part.  The end of the session.

Flock of Seagulls

 

I walked along the parking lot

I never thought I get on a track like you

Meet a track like you

With auburn surface and starting lines

The kind of lines that tantalize me through

Tantalize me through.

 

And I ran, I ran two miles today.

I just ran, I ran a half lap today

I couldn’t get away.

 

A security guard appears up ahead

A warning about private property being you

Permission to run on you

The guard is moving us further still

Aurora borealis comes in view

The run home comes in view.

 

And I ran, I ran the mile back home.

I just ran, I ran another mile today.

I couldn’t get away.

 

I woke up the next morning to set the pace

Your miles slowly disappearing from my view

TheRapist would have disapproved

Reaching out through the pain again

I’m beaming with pride toward you.

The road with lights in view.

 

And I ran, I ran 4 miles on Sunday

I just ran, I ran a long run on Sunday.

I couldn’t get away.

 

All respect to Flock of Seagulls and that awesome song.  I’m a hack.  Here is the video to hear it right.  Love you guys.  Don’t ever come out with another hit. 

 

Heritics of TheRapist:Tyranny against Runners or Running Through the Pain

When we last saw our hero it was looking like we may never see him run again.  Would he just endure the pain while reading Bart Yasso’s insightful prose.  “Help me Obi Wan Yasso, you are my only hope.” We heard in morning prayers before bare feet hit the unforgiving floor.  We take you back (momentarily) what seem like a long time ago in a Physical TheRapist’s office.  It seems like it has been eons since an actual stride had pounded the pavement and felt the 6 mile an hour wind pass past his ears.  But before that we move to a very important conversation while driving home from the all important Y:

Rachaelsdaddy:  So the mean TheRapist won’t let me run.

Rachael:  Why?  You need to run.

Rachaelsdaddy:  That’s what I told her but she wants me to stay off the road.

Rachael:  She is so mean. 

Rachaelsdaddy:  That’s what I said but she is probably right.  I just need to get back to training for Goofy.

Rachael:  That doesn’t matter as long as I get to go to Disney.

(fade to black with laughter in background)

Rachaelsdaddy:  I really need to get back to running.

TheRapist:  You are making progress but I don’t think you are ready.

Rachaelsdaddy:  We are at 15 weeks and I need to get to training.

TheRapist:  When is the Marathon?

Rachaeldaddy:  January.  I really need to get out there.  My family cannot take much more of this and cross training is so boring.

TheRapist:  You runners.  I swear.  -sigh- Give me one more week and we will see.  You need to keep up with the cross training.  If you start running to soon you could …(insert medical stuff about achilless, something about the chronic which was a great album.) We would only be playing catch up and if things go bad (Insert more medical…) … Achilles rupture.  And that would be bad.

Rachaelsdaddy:  (Giving best sad puppy dog look.)  I guess you are right.  I will wait.  But I cannot wait too much longer. 

 

You see how this went and our hero is grounded still but it will get better.  Well, the pain is still excruciating and then.

TheRapist:  We have some more exercises for you to do. 

Rachaelsdaddy:  Okay.

Our hero has to stand on a box and lift his adonis like body up with just one foot on each side and switch up three times.  By this time things are feeling great and that week has gone by. 

Rachaelsdaddy:  Okay I waited a week can I run.

TheRapist:  -sigh-  Okay a little on a soft surface.  You can run a couple of miles.  But DO NOT RUN THROUGH THE PAIN!!!!!

A confused look turns to our hero’s inner Monologue. 

Rachaelsdaddy:  What does she mean by that? I am not sure I understand that concept.  Should I ask or will that cause trouble. 

The confused look turns into a big shit eating grin on our hero’s face back to inner monologue.

Rachaelsdaddy:  She just said I could run.  Just nod and get the hell out of there.

Rachaelsdaddy:  Okay.

 

Then on that next Saturday….

TheRapist Chonicles, Part III: This side is done, now Flip

Well, I got to say.  I still hurts when my TheRapist jabs a thumb into my foot.  Things were a little different.   First off I decided to ruin a good lunch.  The appointment was at noon and I had to skarf down a turkey sandwich at about 11:30.  I was hungry and it was good.  Well, what little I tasted of it as it went speeding past my taste buds.

Pretty much the same treatment.  I got warmed up with moist heat.  Then the ultrasonic thing.  She probed around a little to hit the really hurty spots.  Those actually hurt.  Here is the real change.  I did this on my back with my feet elevated.  I decided to try it out to see if it was better than belly bound.  The elevation was removed and I actually got some warning that I was going to be in agony.

There is was.  The jab in the foot.  What was this woman trying to do.  I think it is a mechanism to get people to stop getting injured.  I mean if this is what I have to go through every time I get injured then I will avoid it in the future.  I hear of these trails that are padded with down feathers that have amazing traction, and always with a head wind ever so slight so as to rustle the hair (what little I have left).  On this mythical trail, no one would get injured, we would all run like Ryan Hall, and pains would be non-existent.  I shall run there from now on if it will just keep me from getting slammed in the foot with a strong thumb. 

Of course I was reading while being tortured.  Bart Yasso’s book is fantastic.  It has some of the funniest stuff ever.  The TheRapist was having trouble figuring out if I was laughing at the book or at the pain.  I informed her that it was both.  I tend to laugh at pain.  I think it is frustration thing and allows for a cool calm transition in crying.  That is if I was not a guy.  Men like me don’t cry…except for legitimate reason like horrible injuries, dog dying, the final episode of M*A*S*H, or when Angel tell Buffy that he is leaving.  Wait that is Space.  Ha! 

Back to the torture.

We flexed the ankle a little and the like.  The biggest problem was my thighs were constantly contracted.  It was real tiring and I didn’t like it.  We moved on to the stretching and the bike.  Nothing new.  And I am already getting used to the Stimulator.  (The electrocution I mention previously)

In conclusion.  I think belly bound is the way to go till the force me other wise.  I may mix it up with them and lie on my side just the mess with the TheRapist.  The best part is I was on my feet the entirety of that afternoon and my achilles felt fantastic.  It felt so good that my knee was starting to bother me.  When I can feel an old nagging injury or something else hurts then I know the current injury is on the mend. 

Well, I got another date with the TheRapist today, another lunch ruined.  Help me Yasso you are my only hope.