Uh, no it doesn't. It just hurts.
Jon recently described his experiences with ART (Active Release Techniques) as visiting the House o' Pain ... well Jon, I know what I like, and not only isn't it ART, it also isn't PT (metaphor breaking down here), in the form of deep-tissue "massage." Let's just say I've had more relaxing massages. Like I think if someone took me outside and beat me up? That would be more relaxing.
I've gone three times this week. The gal working on me—or rather, working me over—is about 14-years-old. And strong. Very very strong.
She does a deep-tissue massage of my ITB (which I'm still not sure is the problem) that is mind-blowingly, Lamaze-breathing-causingly painful, for several hours (about 15 minutes). To her credit though, she did tell me that more guys than gals end up crying from it (but we gals already knew that). Hearing that was some small comfort. Small.
The funny thing is, after the intense pain she inflicts I can actually walk better—my leg holds and doesn't buckle. Then we start the stretching and exercising, of which there are about 50 of each ("hold for 30 seconds, both sides, repeat"), followed by electrical stim and ice.
My "running" this week:
Tuesday: Elliptical: 50 minutes
Thursday: Elliptical: 45 minutes because I started out on the dreaded horrible treadmill for five minutes, and couldn't do it. My 14-year-old dominatrix physical therapist is discouraging me from runnning outdoors, but the dreadmill seems worse to me. Or has the potential to hurt worse. Or maybe I'm just scared of it.
And in between, I'm stretching my brains out. (OK, legs. ITB. Whatever. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to. OK??!!)
Anyway, I can feel the fitness leeching from my body. Tomorrow (Saturday) is one of our three last "taper" runs before the big M (although I've done nothing BUT taper): eight miles, outside.
So I'm gonna go for it, even though I've done no running since last Saturday's mind-blowing 26 miles. (Did I mention that I ran 26 miles?? Just checking.)
I have no idea if I even remember how to run.
Good luck to Susan tomorrow! And to everyone running Chicago—knock 'em dead.