If you now have Olivia Newton-John in your head with the title of this post, you’re welcome. However, the “getting physical” I’m talking about is physical therapy. Yesterday I had my first appointment for my back and leg pain. My impression after the first session: Man, do I feel stiff and old!

Tara, the physical therapist, is a lovely young girl, very attractive in a pixie-like way. After jotting down notes on my injury and medical history, we started in with the work. She tested my strength in both legs and determined that while my legs are strong overall, my quads and calves are weak. (I think I heard them gasp in an offended manner.) Additionally, my right hip is more rigid than the left. (Insert political analogy here.)

My shoulders are tight and sore and can tend to round. All of that tightness doesn’t help the rest of my back. And I sure as hell don’t want to end up looking like a female version of this:

She ran me through a series of exercises and stretches to help with the strengthening of my core and my other muscles. As someone who grew up playing sports, I have to admit that I felt like a wimp. I struggled with things I didn’t think I would. The competitive little voice in my head did not like this one bit.

I have been pretty lucky with my body up until this injury. With the way that I have either ignored it or abused it over the years, it’s amazing that it’s held up. I’m trying to look at things philosophically. If I hadn’t had to take time off to care for my mother, perhaps I wouldn’t have hurt myself. If I hadn’t hurt myself and been unable to return to work as scheduled, I wouldn’t have lost my job. If I hadn’t lost my job, I wouldn’t have taken the time to focus on getting my body physically well and strong.

It would be easy for me to look at a lot of what’s happened this year and feel like a victim. And there are some days when the Bobbsey Twins of Despair, Angst and Woe, settle in and won’t leave. They sit on the sofa and bitch and moan and basically make nuisances out of themselves. I let them vent and then eventually they leave.

I then try to remember that I do believe that there is order to the universe and to our lives, despite the times when everything seems chaotic and random. I’m not sure about many things, but I do believe that. Besides, if I thought that there was no reason for anything and that life was purely random, why in the hell would I bother to get up in the morning? I mean, really.

So, I will dutifully do my exercises and stretches twice a day and be ready for my next appointment on Friday. I did notice the Pilates machine yesterday and I couldn’t get over how much it looked like a medieval torture rack. I may not believe in accidents, but I do believe in irony.

Pilates machine

The Rack