“Your piriformis is like a brick,” she says while jabbing into my buttocks. The comment is intended as an explanation for why my back is wonky but I take it as a compliment.
I’d pedalled off to the Osteopath this morning to get advice on an old back injury that has come back to bite. Before she attacks my piriformis, the Osteopath hands me a large cardboard tube.
“This will hurt,” the Osteopath warns me, “so you can hit me with this tube.”
Argh! I let out a small yelp and tightly grip the cardboard tube as her elbow digs deeper into my buttock.
But as she’s twisting and stretching me back into position, I feel oddly chuffed to have managed to cycle so many miles that my buttocks have officially been declared by a physio to be “like a brick”.
Buttocks of brick. That’s practically the same as having Legs of Steel. Which basically puts me in the same category as this chap:
But it turns out however that having Buttocks Of Brick isn’t very useful as it causes huge amounts of pain.
The word piriformis is Latin for ‘pear-shaped’. This is unfortunately apt given my ample thighs and the shape things are going…
Here I am, about one month before I’m due to cycle, with a wonky back. I’ve spent years (about 8 in fact) dreaming of this trip and many months planning it. I am not, repeat not, going to be stopped in my tracks by my own back.
Thank goodness the osteopath that I found was brilliant. Should I, the person sometimes so crippled with pain I cannot move, have to take the train across Canada?
No: “We’ll patch you up and keep you pedalling.” She says.
For what is the point of having Buttocks of Brick if you cannot use them to cycle 7500km?