Debbie Mihal’s Blog

*** Come visit me on the 14th block of the Pearl Street Mall near the Cheescake Factory during the month of May! Before you head downtown, check to see if I’m there at the bottom right of this blog. ***

One of the first things I ask of my clients­—and in fact, I make it a rule—is not to “grin and bear it.” I explain that the last thing I want them to do while I’m trying to create length in their tissue is to shorten the tissue by cringing. I go on to explain that, of course, there is that hurts-so-good pain that is like a good stretch. It’s not quite pain, and it’s not quite what I would call comfortable, either. It’s more like the ahhh one gets from holding a stretch and then finally feeling the tissue let go. Yeah, that. It’s called lengthening. See the difference?

Of course, then there’s that vague area between “grin and bear it” and “hurts so good.” Even more tricky is the arena of “Tough. I know what’s best.”

But do I?

Yesterday, in the pool, I did a bunch of 50-yard sprints with a friend. I’d hurt my left arm earlier in the week (get this—from lying in bed with my sick cat) but the swimming didn’t engage the pain. Actually, the sprints felt great after what felt like months of mediocre, lazy workouts. I made certain to keep checking in with my body to be sure that I wasn’t pushing myself for competition’s sake.

This morning was another experience. My initial injury at the attachment of the teres major, latissimus dorsi and pec major had actually lessened. However, my delts were sore from the previous day’s sprints. I was someplace between “hurts so good” and “grin and bear it.” I decided to swim anyway.

I have a practice in which I ask my body if it’s okay to push a little. If I can get my head out of it, my body is often very clear about what it wants. Today, it said, “Sure, swim. But you better be well aware of your stroke.” It was one of those days where rote swimming wasn’t going to cut it. The body-mind connection needed to be used to its fullest extent. That’s what I find to be true about working out with an injury: If you combine body and mind, you can usually help. And I’m not talking about using the mind to block out the pain. No. This is where the mind uses its knowledge to help the body consciously move differently. There’s a big difference.

But what about those times when my mind insists it knows what’s best? That’s when I get into trouble. That’s when my mind says to hell with what my body needs. It’s like a cruel dictator, not caring that its people (the cells of the body) are suffering while asking for more, more, more! In those cases, the body will oblige—until it can’t.

After 60 minutes, I heard my shoulder muscles begin to plead. “Stop,” they were saying.

“But we’re just warming up,” I replied. I was swimming between two jocks and was loving the incentive to push myself. Last week some super tri-athlete left me in his wake using the kick board as I did the crawl. Hey, I’m nowhere near a world-class athlete, but I like to pretend that I could at least keep up with someone using a kickboard. Today, I soothed my hurt ego as I enjoyed feeling like I could almost keep up with these two buff dudes. I was close to the zone, but not quite there—yet. I made myself pause after swimming every 50 yards or so to check in. “One more?” I would ask, judging myself for taking the breaks, sure that they were keeping me out of the zone.

 “Okay,” my body replied.

After ten more minutes, I could tell my mind was trying to override the body, trick me into staying in the pool longer. And maybe other parts of my body were pushing for that, too. But my shoulders were definitely saying, “Stop.” That’s the message behind pain: Stop!

I advise my clients to rest when they’re injured. If they insist on working out even though they hurt, I caution them to really check in with their bodies. I’d rather they give themselves a rest, but I don’t pretend to be an expert on anyone else’s pain or comfort. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t get upset with them when their injuries worsen or return. Then again, it’s their journey, not mine.

But what about my own journey? I so did not want to get out of the pool today. I was close to completing my usual ninety minutes, I didn’t want to be a failure, I wasn’t in that much pain (I forgot that as I became tired, my stroke got lazy and therefore more painful), the pool had emptied out and was quiet, there was a cute guy in the lane next to mine . . . . I was at that point of pushing mind over matter. Was I going to be a cruel dictator or respect my body’s needs? I thought about writing this blog. Which way would it turn out?

Reluctantly, I got out. I felt like the child who is told to get out of the pool by her parents for no good reason except that “It was time.” But, for me, today, there was a good reason: It was time.

For a long while I had seen myself as someone who didn’t struggle with taking a break when sick or injured. Actually, I often believe that I enjoy them a little too much. I really don’t believe in grinning and bearing it. Sometimes I’ve been overly cautious. For example, I didn’t join track in high school when the coach asked me to try out because I didn’t want injury to deter me for the rest of my life.

But today I realized that I do struggle with the desire to go on when my body wants a rest. I’m not as lazy as I think I am. Probably never have been. I may have moved from back East, but I’ve still got that Type A personality lurking behind my claim to non-competitiveness.

That’s why it’s so important to stop. Stop and listen. I could have pushed it today. Sure. But you know what? Right now, I can lift my arms over my head and there’s no pain. Just that ahhh of a good stretch.

I think my body knows best.