Playing the Back Nine.

Saturday night I twisted to the side reaching for a light switch and felt a sharp snap run up and across my upper back. It was so unexpected that I think I peed a little when it happened. I stretched my back out and everything seemed to sort itself back into some semblance of normalcy. I chalked it up to one of the joys of getting old. I skied all Sunday, getting on the bike twice. No problems. Isolated event.
Yesterday afternoon the same muscle started jumping around like crazy, which wasn't pleasant. After an hour or so of this it gets a little irritated and fatigued, and makes life a bit unpleasant for the rest of the body. I popped 40,000mg of Motrin (better safe than sorry- can never have too much Vitamin M), stretched out on the bed, and found a contorted position that would allow my back to calm down. Hours later, I got up to cook dinner for the kids, then retreated back to my personal Cirque du Soleil.
My wife could tell each time it would seize up, because my normally long, slow breathing would abruptly stop, then start again. Periodically I would wake up from an especially intense misfire, then drift off to sleep after assuring the muscle that its point had been effectively made. My back wasn't happy.
The abuse I've been subject to every night at the hands (and flailing legs) of the toddler has finally culminated in what I can only assume was his evil plan all along. Well played, sir. I'd unconsciously try to avoid the onslaught, occupying less and less of the bed and more and more of the open air most accurately described as "next to the bed". Not exactly a sound structural configuration, and failure was inevitable.
Last night the little monster slept in his own bed. He awoke at midnight and meandered down the hall in the dark towards the kitchen. My wife was quicker out of the bed than I was (not exactly something to include among her palmares), and got him a sippy cup of milk. Amazing enough, he opted for his own bed instead of climbing between us. As I listened to him slurp contently, I was grateful he had benevolently decided to give me the night off.

This morning I woke up, showered, got dressed, made the kids their lunches, and then climbed back in bed. A 30 minute delay going to work turned into a couple hours of hot showers, hot baths, stretching, and call to the doctor to see if I could get an appointment before June. Eventually everything settled down to a muffled scream, so I dragged myself into work.
Will I get on the bike this afternoon? It depends. Sometimes getting the blood flowing is exactly what I need to loosen everything up. Sometimes its exactly the wrong thing. I never know until I click in the pedals and starting turning them over.
We'll see.


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