A Tight End

I am not exercise friendly.  This has been my state of being for many, many, many years and I don’t anticipate it changing any time soon.  I’ve battled this monkey on my back through a variety of means.  But the ends don’t seem to justify the means and so here I am battling again.  I thought I was doing a good job by the fact that my thighs (on the outside at least) were feeling a bit firm.  Tight even.  But once again, mother nature laughs cruelly as I was to find out last night.  Ironic that I chose the old battleax as my costume for Halloween last year ? I think not …

As some of you may know, I’ve begun hot yoga.  I love’s my hot yoga.  I’ve been away for about a week and a bit but am back tomorrow full steam.  Even got myself a new swanky non-slip yoga mat.  Exercise for me usually generates more excitement about the stuff you can exercise with rather than the effort to use the stuff but at least I get excited by something that makes me eventually sweat.

I’ve had personal trainers.  I’ve had my husband train me (note to self – don’t do that again). I’ve gone walking.  I’ve bought a treadmill.  I’ve bought a bike whose handles moved while you furiously pedaled.  I’ve got DVD’s and elastic ropes that help you get all svelte and fit.  The only “I” that I haven’t dotted is the one where I realize that it is exactly that “I” that must put the effort in more frequently than once a week to get the said tight thighs but in a good way.

What I have done is created a bit of a mess that is going to take plenty of hot yoga, massaging and a some guy in a voodoo mask with a dead chicken more than a few months to correct.  I have basically plasticized my iliotibial bands and those my friends, you need to keep good and stretchy.  They run up the side of your leg and contribute to stability, flexibility and a whole host of other -bilities that I don’t know about.  These plasticated muscles are what I mistakenly identified as effort paying off.

I have a friend who is a registered RMT and that friend is helping me to resolve my muscular issues.  This does not come without pain and bad language though after I feel fabulous.  The friend has mad skills and seemingly endless patience but I’m sure if I don’t stop grabbing the friends thumb and bending it backwards every time they touch my tightly wound iliotibial area, that patience will run out.  I know I would have smacked me by now.  This friend has also known me for over 30 years and so I will admit to you, as I have to them, that I am mightily embarrassed by my less than tight butt and unconditioned jiggly bits.  Such is the lot of those who abhor exercise and prefer to whine about it.

So my tight end is still a ways away.  It’s under there somewhere I’m sure.  In the meanwhile, I’ll drag my currently somewhat droopy end with my plasticated fascia out to the mat as much as I can.  I’ll pay the price for abusing and neglecting my body at the hands of the RMT.  I’ll do what I should have done years ago and give away the excuses as I’ve given away every other piece of un-used and wasted shiny promise of tightness.  Mother Nature will not have the last laugh and one day I’ll be able to tell her to kiss my tight end and not have to point to my plasticated thighs …

2 thoughts on “A Tight End

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s