It’s a Stretch
My popliteus muscle is crabby. I did not even know I had one until it made itself known. It lives at the back of my knee and the one on the right side has some real issues. Evidently it does not enjoy taking Winchester on a walk OR it enjoys it so much it screams every time we head out.
It reminds me that I am very good at “other” care and lousy at “self” care. In August 2018 I went to Chip, the kinesiology trainer recommended by two naturopaths and my late friend Deb. It was two and a half hours of pain, exhaustion, humiliation and crying, followed by collapsing on the couch in a dead sleep for two hours. When Chip called about 25 minutes after the first session, I knew he was concerned I might not make the drive home. He was wise to believe that. I went back two days later and then once a week for the next two years. If it surprised me, it astounded everyone else. My naturopath when hearing I had been going for four months said, “How can you stand it?!!” Ironic since he had been a big advocate.
Chip is not for the feint of heart. He is there to get you well and to help you realize that you are simply a collection of cables and levers which if used correctly do not have to hurt. It is a combination of stretching exercises, relearning how to walk, deep tissue work to correct years of self-destruction and, in my case, hardcore psychological readjustment. All the years of being humiliated by PE teachers, other kids and mostly myself regarding anything athletic were evidently stored in my cells, cellulite and cartilage. You could say they were core beliefs.
I did get better, but I believe I returned again and again because it was the best PT out there – physically and psychologically. Chip is used to making people cry, both men and women. His corrections are miniscule in nature and yet they immediately remove years of knee, back and other joint pain. Your brain constantly fights the corrections because your muscle memory is so in opposition to them. There are never heavy weights or cardio just tiny movements that are seemingly impossible. And for me a sudden on-rush of tears followed by sobbing. Chip learned early on to say, “Does something hurt or is it one of those things?” as he would gesture in a circular manner toward my head. I would choke out, “Head,” and he would say “That’s yours to deal with, so you keep going in there, while WE keep going out here.”
Chip is not someone you see for two years. If you are lucky enough to get in, he is someone you see for maybe two to six months and then you go to the gym on your own. He tried to get me to go to the gym, but I was never very compliant. I have the membership and he would go with me on some Saturdays to show me his approved method on the equipment. Mostly I learned that when I observed other people making mistakes I could quickly avert my eyes so as not to give in to letting them know the folly of their ways. I may even have learned how to do some of exercises almost right, but I could not make myself go during the week alone.
After one session where his eyes got sad after asking if I had been to the gym, I decided I would go twice a week and stay at least 15 minutes. Baby stepping my way through my resistance and stories. That was February 2020. Covid took care of my plan, and I was not sad to abandon it. Then in August 2020 Chip took time off to finish working on a course he was creating and to focus on teaching others his program. I stopped with him.
It was easy to do, I got the kidney infection followed by Covid enabled by the gyms remaining closed. The inflammation from Covid took over five months to leave my body and I told myself I felt okay. Then a month ago my popliteus popped up and out and all around. I know how to fix it, but so far, I have not made myself. There is still a part of me that is not worth fixing. Evidently it is the next opportunity for growth. Win needs his walks, so it appears it is time to take my “I don’t want” along and cash in my “Chips.”
