Posted by: Chelsea Novak | December 18, 2007

The Iliotibial Band is playing at my house

Today I was confronted with an important choice. A choice that seriously tests my values. A true form versus function kind of deal. Because my chronic knee problems went from manageable to consistently gasp-inducing and mobility-impairing, I have returned to the kindly people who took my damaged back and made it all better to see if they can work some of their mojo on my loathed lower joints.

The absolutely wonderful news is that they can fix me. I just have to actually do what that trainer told me to do and teach my legs to work in a new and exciting way. An efficient one. I could go into the multi-factorial explanation of what’s going on, excite you all with the mess I’ve gotten into with a tight sacroiliac (which I’ve learned is, like, a million times better than a loose one, though I really need to learn to let mine slide), bum muscles that wouldn’t know how to fire even if they were given first chair on the firing squad, my new worst enemy and best friend the iliotibial tract (which apparently should slide over the quadriceps, but mine is actually stuck in some places, ew) and my quadriceps, which think that nothing can happen in my body without them flexing, which wouldn’t be so bad if they would only do it in unison. Yes, if they did that, then my knees would actually slide into the track they’re supposed to go on. That’d be keen and there’d be less swelling as a result I’ll bet you.

A nice mess I am. But a mess that can be fixed through some hard work and, sadly, some sacrifice. It was more than gently suggested to me that my prognosis and long-term mobility would be dramatically improved if I stopped wearing high heels. I feel I must point out that I went to this physiotherapy appointment today wearing black, knee-high, three-inch, stiletto boots. Really, really pretty ones. Pretty ones I may not wear again.

I know, I know that high heels put so much pressure on my knees. They’re also terrible for my hips and general posture. I know. I know. But my god I look fantastic in them. I have always been proud of the fact that I have worn high heels in spite of the fact that I’m tall. Clearly empowerment has it’s costs.

I’ll try not to whine about this too much and just get it out of my system now. Healthy joints are much more important than cute shoes. Even I know that it’s a no brainer. I just don’t need shopping for shoes to suck more. Not only do I have to find a size 11, but now it has to be of a sensible height. I don’t know if anyone with normal sized feet can understand how hard it is to meet those criteria and actually wear a shoe that is attractive as well. *sniff*

Pity party over, it’s a change I will make. I will do whatever I need to do to stay limber and mobile. I want to be able to run, jump and dance for as long as I can. Cute shoes just don’t compare to how good those things make me feel. A least I can wear sneakers for hip hop.

Today’s sing-a-long song: “Wake up call” by Maroon 5



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