I did a 14 kilometer run this morning. This isn’t far for some, but it’s definitely at the upper end of my range. After I finished I was so excited about getting to breakfast, I forgot to do my stretches. Stupid mistake (although breakfast was great). Having sat still for the rest of the day next to my little dog (him sleeping, me being equally inactive) with my legs slowly stiffening, I’ve been reminded about the importance of stretching.
Even though he pretty much does nothing all day, my little fella never fails to get at least a few good stretches in between naps. He’ll even take advantage of a nearby human whenever possible to get a bit more leverage.
In the absence of humans to help me out, I have what I affectionately refer to as The Foam Roller of Death. If you don’t know about the foam roller, it’s a torture device commonly prescribed by sadistic physiotherapists. It’s a simple concept, you just ‘roll yourself out’, easing muscle tension. The technical term is self-myofascial release, which sounds great until you receive the instruction ‘find the place that hurts, and hold it there for 60 seconds’.