The Extra Windy Mile

It's a sign of increasing age that after starting up some regular sports massage with a South American lady my primary concern has been holding in wind during psoas manipulation as opposed to praying against the possibility of an erection (which I'd have been doing 10 years ago).

Not that gaseous exchange was never a concern - just ask Dr. Mortimer, the chiropractor who had his hair parted while freeing up my back all those years ago in Washington DC. It's just that it's become the primary concern requiring 100% concentration these days.

The increase in mileage has seen an exponential increase in niggles so I decided that a semi-regular indulgence of sports massage would help keep me running. In the years since my last I'd forgotten how painful they are - exacerbated by muscles and tendons with the flexibility of a Scottish Prime Minister. Quite frankly, it isn't remotely enjoyable so it'd better result in some injury resilience rather than just a hole in the pocket.

The lady in question is well qualified and professional but has the slightly disconcerting belief that massage will cure everything. I can well believe it relieves hamstring tightess, it may even help you avoid stitches but solving the Goldbach Conjecture? I think not.