Stop Going to Those Places

Ever since my personal record 1.2 mile swim of 33 minutes at the Wildflower triathlon my left shoulder hasn't been the same. Just raising my arm above my chest hurts so bad I have to hold my breath. When I raise it above my head it makes a popping sound and feels like a rope being pulled and snapped like a guitar string.

It hurts like hell.

Completing the Ironman 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake Triathlon swim in 37 minutes two weeks ago was one of those crying "uncle" experiences. Running jars it so much my teeth ache. Sleeping on my left side is impossible. When I try to do anything, like breathe -- borrowing a phrase from Nytro -- I. HATE. EVERYONE!

Ummm... did I mention it hurts like hell?

So after a long, painful, and no results wait-and-see-if-it-gets-better strategy I got a swift kick in the pants by her and dragged my butt into my doctor's office. You long time readers may remember the good Dr. Jerry. He's the one who told me not to race in Ironman Florida because he suspected I had pneumonia a week before the race. I totally dissed him and went to Florida and completed the race anyway. Pneumonia... pneuSHOmonia.


Doctor J: "What seems to be the problem?"


TriBoomer: "Jerry, my left arm hurts in two places."


Doctor J: "Stop going to those two places."


**BLINK** **BLINK**


Ahhhhh yes... managed care at its best.

Anyway, he opened an anatomy book and pointed to a diagram that looked like this....









... said something in Latin for a diagnosis (rotator cuff tendonitis, inpingement), poked my shoulder (ouch!), twisted my arm (ouch! ouch!), scribbled something on a prescription pad, and told me to report to physical therapy. And, so I did... today.

I'm not sure what Doctor J scratched on the paper but from the way the physio therapist, Victor, twisted and stretched my arm it must have been, "Hey Vic, treat this guy like your own personal Stretch Armstrong. Don't listen to his whining. He's a puss."

I'm just sure of it.

Also, Vic must think I'm don't know what pain is because when I told him that digging his thumbs into my shoulder hurt so bad I was gonna pee my pants he had to do it at least two more times to watch me grimace (or whizz). You know... just to be sure.

After 45 minutes of torture he gave me a rubber tube thingie with handles on both ends and a list of exercises to do "without his care" (yah, he actually used the word care) three times a day between appointments. Oh yes... he also gave me a bill for $100. Oh joy... a bonus!

I'll do this for four more weeks. Just in time for my next Ironman 70.3 at Steelhead.

Stay tuned...