Carthorse. Discuss.

As some of you will be aware via one of my STW posts, I managed to tweak an ankle ligament getting into bed.  Despite the humorous nature of the injury, it has proved a pain in the arse to fix.

Except now I have a secret weapon. Her name is Anne. And she is my physio.

People like Anne are a rare bred – helpful, passionate about there trade, and able to manipulate (read ‘guide’) pig-headed stubborn individuals into doing what they want using enthusiasm, a smile and logic. I am a PE teacher, and whilst these skills should be part of my repertoire I sadly must confess that they are not. Unfortunately my success is based on a mixture of harrassment, cajolling and sarcasm, all of which allows me to maintain a fairly high success rate, either as a coach or as a teacher. But I’ve always envied people with the gentle touch – those that can get you to do what you don’t want to do and then make you think you did all along and that it was your idea. If you follow.

I have a pathological fear of crutches. I cannot use them, and often have refused in the past, preferring to make the public feel uncomfortable and threatened by clumping past them in an ungainly fashion, muttering and cursing under my breath whilst demonstrating a voracious bead. Despite the inelegant nature of this method of locomotion, I found it preferable to stumping around on aluminium, although the cursing and muttering was maintained.

Anne (in her wisdom) has encouraged me to use this most reviled form of transportation, albeit against my wishes. And like all good professionals, Anne was right. My ankle feels good, although still a little tender, and I took part in the L2B on Sunday in order to get back into the swing of things.

So all praise to Anne. Best physio I’ve ever had. Plus it turns out she can ride a bike so much better that I can its not funny.

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