I had a full assesment by a sports physio today, mostly brought about by this situation. I’ve been sliding from one injury to the next for probably the last 3 months now. Every week of great training has been immediately followed with a week or two off the mats and it’s beginning to affect me… em… emotionally. There’s been no tears or anything but it has been really frustrating. I don’t know the age demographic of my dear readers… or probably just reader… ahem… but maybe you can relate to the feeling of having more days behind than there are ahead, competitively I mean. I’m 30 now, which isn’t old, but from the point of view of someone who has loved competing and fighting but is now finding that injuries are more frequent and take longer to heal, I may as well be 70. It wouldn’t be as bad except for the fact that my job involves being fit and able to demonstrate things, and lately it’s been “oh eh, ow. Em well if I was able to do it I would put my right leg over there…” The last 3 months have been like that. I’m depressed. There. I said it. Today didn’t help.
Firstly, this is no random physio we’re talking about. This is a top sports physio who deals with athletes, not hip replacement candidates. There was a whole battery of functional and flexibility tests, from my toes to my head, literally. The results were that I am fucked. Well, lets not be melodramatic about it, the results were that I have a few things that require attention, and some of the injuries that I’ve had over the years might well all come back to one thing. Really, I was hoping that the man would sort out my hyperextended elbow, but he actually wasn’t too bothered about that, focussing instead on some larger issues to do with oh let’s see; my hip (lots about my hip) my foot, my shoulder, my neck, my knee is apparently not too bad even though it makes Snap Crackle and Pop sound like three mutes, but the cause of the knee pain is a real problem. One of the weirdest things is the muscular imbalance in my back which Will helpfully took a photo of. Basically I look like Arnie on one side and Woody Allen on the other, comparitively speaking. Oh yes and there’s something wrong with one of my wrists too. I have to say though, I kind of enjoyed the computerised leg strength testing machine which was testing for, I think, quad/ham imbalance. It made me sort of feel like Drago, even if I didn’t really understand what the guy was talking about when he was telling me to pull as well as push, for the first set anyway. I felt like a bit of an idiot after I realised what he meant.
Will was no help, he just slagged me for moaning about everything and secretly I think he was delighted that I’m so weak and fucked up so he could use me as a challenge and then claim all the glory later. He did suggest that maybe there should be a gramme of cocaine for everyone who does the tests to get their confidence up afterwards because it is pretty destroying hearing a list of what’s wrong with you, but then as I looked for it on the waiting room desk, he hadn’t provided. I walked into that office thinking that I was pretty flexible, I do martial arts after all, but walked out discovering that functionally, I’m a mess, and even my much loved flexibility is poor enough to have caused real problems in the past, even though I didn’t know that was the cause was before today. Most of all I’m pissed off at myself. I’m pissed off to have used piss ant physios and piss poor rehab in the past. I’m pissed off for not recognising that persistent injuries have a root cause and aren’t just bad luck, even though I know that, I suppose it’s hard to recognise things in yourself.
The bright side, if there is any, is that on Monday I start fixing the root cause of all of this. Will has kindly offerred his services and with a bit of luck, some of the things that have been stopping me will stop stopping me so I don’t have to stop again. Oh yes, and I’m a whopping 17.5% bodyfat right now. No more pizza for me I think.
This morning, I thought I was fit, strong and flexible. Right now I feel like reaching for the laxative and a cup of Ovaltine.