Football today. I thought things had loosened up a bit, and, with a judicial application of Deep Heat and taking a few ibuprofen, I thought I could play. Big mistake. Whilst things were fine limbering up, my body's complaints would come to the fore immediately on entering the football pitch.
Each strike of the ground would elicit an internal roar of pain as an electric jolt snapped up the calf and hamstrings. A deep, pounding, ripping sensation in my hamstrings each time I landed on my right food. And finally an intense, breath-taking, searing pain from my lower back. It was this last pain that would see me make involuntary yelps every now and then, gasps of pain wrenched from a face screwed in hurt.
But it was a five a side game, and I couldn't really just drop out and leave the teams unbalanced. That said my poor performance possibly hindered my team as much as helped, and we limped in two goals behind after a very poor first half.
After the 40 minutes I collapsed to the floor, too sore to do much. I stretch off, knowing that the temporary pain of such a routine would be far less than the damage that not stretching would do.
Serious remedial action and proper rest is obviously necessary.