A Little Sports Massage (…or a lot)
It had been six years since my last deep-tissue sports massage. I remembered it wasn’t exactly relaxing—but nothing prepared me for the battering my left leg was about to receive.
What was meant to be a straightforward maintenance job turned into a one-and-a-half-hour battle of endurance. Ben, my sports therapist, unleashed every weapon in his arsenal: elbows driving into my hamstrings and glutes, thumbs digging venomously into my calves, and a massage gun delivering 40 deadlegs a second.
The air in his garden studio was blue (and not just because of the fancy lighting). I’d have happily traded places with anyone—someone in a dental chair, even. At least you get anaesthetic there.
When it was finally over, and I’d shakily pulled my jeans back on, Ben asked if I felt any different. I was light-headed—probably from all the toxins released—and my left leg definitely felt “smoother.” Maybe even a little more like my good, right, leg.
The truth is, I know I need more of this. Regular treatment is key to keeping my body in working order for the challenges ahead. And maybe, just maybe, it won’t feel quite so medieval next time.
Tomorrow, I’m running again. Fingers crossed there’s a payoff for all that pain.