This morning I woke up around 4:30am in considerable pain. I had tried to roll over to my side and immediately stopped due to the sharp stab in my lower back. Michelle was asleep so I did some self-diagnostics and realized that my back was “out” as I’ve heard a number of my older acquaintances say.
Yesterday I put 1.5 yards of cedar chip in the chicken run and around the yard and may have hurt it shovelling, or I may have hurt it lifing the wheel barrow over my head to get it around some obstacles (it was empty), or maybe it was the pumpkins, or all the toting Ella around, but I ended up going to bed with a sore back.
Anyway, come 5am, i was trying to pin the blame on a certain moment or action so I could avoid doing it again in the future. My dad pulled his back like this the day we went to Seattle for last year’s STP and I thought it was pretty amazing that he rode and finished it considering the pain. Now I’m especially impressed given how difficult it was to eventually get out of bed (with help).
Now I’m taking it easy and trying to milk the pain for sympathy. It’s not working entirely well, but I didn’t have to carry the laundry downstairs.
I guess once you hit 30, it all goes downhill from there?
Swimming always makes my joints float back into their proper places.