Doctor, It Hurts When I Do This

Here I am sitting in my car in front of my chiropractor’s office on a Wednesday morning.

I’d smile wider, but I’m in a wee bit of pain. Here’s hoping Dr. Cal can make it better. Even if he doesn’t it’ll be nice to have a grownup other than Studly Doright to talk to for a change.

Peace, people!

Stretching Like an Athlete Follow Up

Several weeks ago I posted about Stretching Your Life, a business owned and operated by kinesiologists in Tallahassee. As a 61-year-old I’d become dissatisfied with feeling like a 91-year-old, while my mind kept insisting I’m only 40-something. The disconnect was driving me nuts. I’d even sold my motorcycle because it was exceedingly painful to put my leg over the seat.

One of Studly Doright’s golf buddies referred me to Stretching for Life and I’ve had two sessions of intense one-to-one stretching along with three group stretching sessions. In addition, Jen, the kinesiologist with whom I work most closely, thought I’d benefit from A.R.P. therapy at a chiropractic office in town.

A.R.P. therapy (which I’ve also heard referred to as A.R.T. and A.R.C.) is akin to STIM therapy, in that small padded electrodes are attached to the body and emit a series of electrical impulses that cause the muscles to contract and relax. But A.R.P. is much more intense, the padded electrodes are larger, and the patient is physically active during the therapy.

I almost cried at my first visit, not because it was painful, but because I could feel the muscles in my thighs and hips letting go of their normal clinched and pinched state. I could lift my knee and simulate throwing my leg over a motorcycle seat–something I haven’t been able to do in over a year.

Now after three A.R.P. therapy sessions I’m moving much better, and the chiropractor is ready to turn me back over to Jen. The secret is to keep stretching and try to gain even more flexibility in the process. Who knows, maybe my body and mind can meet somewhere in the middle!

Peace, people!

Stretching Like an Athlete

Athletics were never my thing. As a card carrying klutz, I’ve shied away from anything requiring physical prowess for most of my life. Oh, there was a brief period during which I played racquetball, but even then I managed to hit myself in the face with the racquet on more than one occasion. I tried golf, but was soon spending considerably more on chiropractic treatment than on greens fees.

As a result, I kind of gave up on doing any activity that was physically demanding. I have tons of other excuses: a disdain for gyms, a dislike of workout classes, an allergic reaction to sweat….You get the picture.

Now, at 61, my body is telling me I should have done something to keep myself fit. My hips hurt, my back aches, and my arms are flabby wonders that wag even when I try to get them to play dead. I feel like a bag of lumpy gravy.

I see a chiropractor, Dr. Verrier, on a regular basis. He’s helped me a great deal. Before I began regular treatments with him I couldn’t walk without significant pain. He’s worked wonders, but I still had some issues with my hips that keep me awake at night.

Then Studly Doright suggested I also see someone at a Tallahassee business called Stretching Your Life. One of his golf buddies recommended the business and Studly wanted me to check it out.

Stretching Your Life is owned by kinesiologists who teach their clients to stretch like athletes. They’ll even spend an entire hour stretching you! I’ve had two sessions of intense stretching and am amazed at what I’ve missed out on all these non-athletic years. I still have a long way to go, but my kinesiologist, Jen, is upbeat about getting me to a healthier place in my life.

Here’s a link to Stretching Your Life. Their website alone has a great deal of helpful information along with exercises to do at home. (I receive no compensation for sharing this information, by the way, but I wanted to spread the word.)

I’ll give updates on my progress with the stretching. Hopefully I can work out some of these kinks that have begun to feel like the norm. I don’t mind being 61, but I do mind feeling like I’m 91.

Peace, people.

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