Thursday, 14 June 2007

Back in the snorkel again ...

Ok, that's pathetic, but I couldn't think of anything swimming related that sounded like 'saddle'.

My intermediate schedule suggested I did 4 x 100m 'fast' with 60 second rest stops in between - which is what I attempted to do. However, my pace left very little to be desired. 'Fast' is an overstatement so ludicrously vast it beggars belief. However, I did it, and from the way my body is now reacting I'm going to believe it was a good work-out.

Before the swim I had an osteopath (for 'osteo' read 'psycho') appointment for my dodgy sacroilliac joint. It's been 6 months since my last visit, but so swiftly and nostalgically did I remember the excrutiating pain, it seemed like only yesterday. There was a rather entertaining moment when he began cracking my spine by leaning across me with his elbow in my shoulder.

"Do tell me if my bony elbow causes you any pain," he said blithely, and then proceeded to jump up and down on my spine. It cracked loudly in several places, at which I croaked:

"Yeeaaahhh ... it's your elbow that's the problem ..."

How he laughed! How my foot twitched from wanting to kick him in the soprano factory!

Still, I can't fault him. When I first went to him I had a niggling pain in my lower back. He got his hands on me and it went from niggling pain to - well - excruciating agony preventing me from bending. I couldn't even tie my own shoe laces. But as I continued to be poked, manipulated, cracked and creaked, everything slowly got better. Now I only notice it every once in a while. It doesn't hurt when I play tennis or anything. I need to go surfing, as that's the acid test, but I really don't think it'll be a problem.

Anyway, I'm pleased I went swimming as I really didn't feel like it after the osteo. Being rocked back and forth for several minutes at a time does nothing for PT - which is still lurking irritatingly. Bah. I'm going to start a food diary and see if it turns anything up. I'll start tonight. We're off out to a new deli-restaurant at Pitscottie with Arrow and Fonda, so I'll see if I suffer any ill effects.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to go for a steady, 25 minute run. Fisher will no doubt be keen, as she's been told by her specialist woman that she can run as long as it doesn't hurt. (She's also been told she has freaky feet, tiny toes, and a stride that emulates falling bits of masonry. I must think of something sympathetic to say. Like "ha haaaaaaa ha ha ha etc!")