Massages are for Winners!
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
That's what my "Chief of Stuff" told me yesterday when I said that I'd always thought massages were indulgences for special occasions, the rich, or wusses -- that when it comes to sports and athletics, the tough get chiropractic work done, or none at all. (Where do I get these ideas???)
After yesterday, I couldn't agree more.
I am not usually one for papering. I don't have the patience (or raw material to work with, being an ex-nail biter) for manicures. I do the yearly pedicure solely out of a belief that one has the responsibility to get one's toes presentable for sandal weather and nothing more, often encouraging the pedicurist to skip the froufrou foot/leg massage and lotions. I haven't gotten my hair cut/colored since December -- not because I've made the conscious choice to grow it out (although now at this point, I might as well), but because I just don't want to spend the time -- or have the time to spend -- on doing that right now (One thing that training three to five hours a day for an Ironman will do is make you evaluate must-do, should-do, and can-do items on your to-do list -- the last two categories often just get dropped altogether).
Naturally, I lumped massages into the papering category. All the candles, soothing music, scented oils. I had only had a massage two other times -- one this past winter at a place that is truly heaven on earth (seriously, if you live near Madison, try it. Even if you don't, fly in and try it...you won't regret it for a second), and the other in grad school because a friend of a friend of a friend was a new masseuse (read: not all that good) and in trying to establish a clientele, was offering massages for $25.
The day before yesterday (Monday) I had an intense soreness in my back that started below my shoulder blades and radiated up to the base of my skull. It was sort of like my back needed to crack but was stuck. As one might imagine, four hours on a bike that night didn't help matters at all, and by the time I crawled into bed, I was in serious pain. Sleep came in spurts, as the only position where I didn't hurt was lying on my back and I can never, ever sleep like that.
Enter Kate, the masseuse. After 30 minutes of Kate kneading and stretching my upper back and neck I was -- although not completely healed -- markedly improved. I could turn my neck without also turning my whole body, my headache was gone, and I was able to get my bike, run, and swim workouts in after work last night virtually pain-free.
I am now a true believer. And I'm going back for more. As often as my bank account will allow.
In "Beautiful Girls," one of the main characters, Paul, says, "A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you've been drinking Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high full of the single greatest commodity known to man - promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it's going to be okay. The supermodels, Willy? That's all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels." (gawd I love that movie!)
After yesterday, that's how I feel about massages -- promise of a better day, a greater hope. They are nothing short of miraculous, and I'm now an addict, plain and simple. Paul can take his models . . . I'll take my massages. Each to his own.
Posted by Erin 7:38 AM