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Coach carvey's

Is this the one? Part two

Waging a war against a 'Hammy from Hell'

worse until I had to make that horrible decision that all of us hate – to stop running! I quickly decided the only thing to do was sulk and eat cheese. Copious amounts of beer also seemed to brighten my day. Unfortunately, without any running over the months, my mood darkened like the skies of an Iowa thunderstorm. I became depressed, paranoid and delusional. I knew I had to do something. I needed to pick myself up and aggressively treat the HFH (Hammy from Hell). But first, more cheese and beer! My lovely and charming wife, Lorelie, suggested a


physical therapist/chiropractor that she knew and I jumped at the idea of being healed. The doctor looked at the offending area and said,

“Wow, this is pretty bad, although I’ve seen worse.” He lightly massaged it and then asked if I was OK with needles. I said, “Doc, you can stick a crochet needle in my ear and a railroad spike in my eye if it fixes my leg!” In the acupuncture room he stuck needles in my

hamstring, put on soft music and left me alone for fifteen minutes. My hamstring may be worthless for running, but it’s fully functional as a pin cushion! As I lay there, I thought it was pretty weird. Then I

realised all the things I would be willing to try in order to run again and it didn’t seem weird at all. Would I try drinking bats’ blood while dancing naked on a giant omelette? Abso-freaking-lutely if it’ll help! A few days later I return to my chiropractor’s office for some deep tissue massage and a hammy full of needles. I have to say that I was expecting my first massage to be quite painful. I had heard of runners receiving agonising work on their muscles with very positive results. I was led into one of the little rooms and was told my doctor’s partner (his wife!) would be working on my leg. Damn, she’s not going go deep enough on my hammy… Wrong! I lay down on my stomach and in no time she

is driving her elbow into an incredibly sore and sensitive lump of hamstring scar tissue. It was at that very moment I heard someone scream, and then I

t’s been almost a year since my last injury, not bad for a guy approaching 60. This new one, my left hammy, came on slowly. It gradually got worse and

realised that someone was me! She continued to pulverize my leg until I actually started laughing. It hurt so bad that I found it amusing and then I brilliantly remarked, “Boy that really hurts.” She said, “Go to a happy place.” I was thinking the dentist would be a happy place compared to this, but instead I visualised a pepperoni pizza and pitchers of ice cold beer. Even that didn’t help. Once she was done, her husband took me to another

room and stuck needles in me once more. After a month of torture I decided I’d had enough. I

was going to start walking and mix in a little jogging. My comeback was to be glorious. Little girls would throw rose petals in my path and maybe even a statue of me would pop up in the local park. Then my back went out and I sprained my ankle. I had suddenly become a hobbled wreck. My hammy didn’t feel much better either. I really wanted to get in shape and now I couldn’t do squat. But wait, I can still control

She said, "Go to a happy place." I visualised pepperoni pizza and pitchers of ice cold beer

what goes into my mouth – and that's gonna help. I started a healthy diet, and when my ankle and back

improved I started walking and lifting weights. I wasn’t running but felt incredible gratitude for what I could do. And then something wonderful happened! I hadn’t

run in three months and was starting to visualise a life without running when I decided to try and mix in a little jogging during my walks. To my surprise, the HFH didn’t tighten up! Does it still feel a little funky? Yes, but it functions. I am

slowly upping the duration and speed of the running intervals, while hoping for a full recovery. The HFH is now able to tolerate a stout one and a half miles with hills. There is no word that can describe how good it feels to be running again. I would have to make one up. How about euphoria-tastic, or nirvana-bliss?

Mysterious Coach Carvey lives in the USA and has never actually been seen by anyone. Investigate him further at:

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