Back to the Torture


Last year, right around the time I started getting serious about exercising and losing weight, I had a flare-up of the recurring back pain that had been troubling me off and on for some time.  I didn’t want to have an excuse to curtail my walking so soon after starting, so I stubbornly pushed through it and it went away after a day or two, without getting all that bad.  As the weight came off, the flare-ups stopped, and I attributed it to my ever decreasing waistline.  Without all that extra baggage, I figured my back was having an easier time, and no longer punishing me for the added labor.

Flash forward to Monday.  I was taking some laundry out of the dryer, and as I stood up, I twisted to put the dry clothes on top of the machine and felt this little pinch in my lower back.  I braced myself — this was how my previous bouts usually started, with a seemingly innocuous bit of movement — but everything felt fine, and I thought no more about it.  Until I rolled over in my sleep that night, and my back yelled at me that this was a terrible idea and I should stay where I was.  This persisted throughout Tuesday and today, and a consistent cough has not helped matters any.  I actually got stuck on the couch a few hours ago when I couldn’t move into a sitting position without feeling like someone was shoving a knitting needle into my spinal column.

I did manage to get up and actually walk out to get the mail, during which my back gave not a peep.  So it’s clearly toying with me now, lying in wait when I expect it to hurt, springing on me when I don’t.  I’m not a huge fan of this game, but tough love isn’t exactly the best approach here; I like walking too much to mess with the main mechanism behind it.  But I also don’t want to baby it either.  Oh, sure, I could go to some so-called professional, but isn’t it much more fun to hear me complain about being unable to get up off a couch?

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