It's five o'clock on a Friday night, and I'm in my pjs, icing body parts. (Hmmm... "Body parts on Ice" just doesn't work quite as well as "Disney on Ice.") There is Pearl Harbor on AMC. (Ben Affleck AND Matt Damon AND Cuba Gooding, Jr... twist my arm, I guess I can take one for the team and watch those hunky sorts for a couple of hours.) There might be a glass of wine in my future.
This is what I consider pretty good self care-- and it does feel a little luxurious, all this sitting around while there is plenty I could be doing around the house. Sadly, mom did not have time to organize my entire life when she was here...I'm still kinda in in need of that.
But after I whined about my neck and back and weird-o radiating pain in my shoulder for three days, He-who-trains just said it: "You need to see a masseuse." He gave me very specific and medical-y sounding body parts that need attention (including the piriformus that I've heard all my runner friends doing battle with... hey! oooh! oooh! I'm in the club too! Oh wait...)
What person isn't delighted to hear that they need to relax for a while and let someone put you right in heaven on earth? That tops other fitness advice like "Eat fish", "Get more fiber" and "Stretch" any day. I'm sure not opposed, but I struggled to make the appointment. I've gotten the occasional massage when Groupon knew my needs and offered me a great deal. But living in a tiny town guarantees that we are not on Groupon's radar. I've gotten massages when someone has gotten me a gift certificate. (Which, for the record, is a spectacular gift... if anyone is dying to shower me with love. Kidding! Er...mostly.) But to just schedule a massage for myself for no other reason than my body feels like I've been in a car accident? That feels like a little bit of frivolity in some ways.
The truth is that my body has been off kilter for several weeks--which probably helps explain some of the nagging annoyances that feel like injuries but probably really aren't. If I were really sick, I wouldn't hesitate to go to a doctor. And while I know that is a luxury to many, it doesn't feel so silly. I did make the appointment for tomorrow, because maybe it will help restore my body to rights so I can just. move. on. But if I can take advice about icing and fiber and how to walk (and stand!) correctly, then maybe I should learn to make space for this kind of advice too. After all, being strong and healthy and able isn't a luxury--though certainly a gift! Being those things is something to which I've made a commitment.
Ok, ok... I guess I can be one of those blissful, smiling, relaxed people for a few minutes. Or you know, turn my head from side to side and not walk like I'm 95. All in the name of self care! :-)