Maybe it’s the fact that I just got a 90-minute massage from my favorite massage therapist in the world, but I feel the need to talk about my love of massages.
I’m that person. The minute you touch my shoulders, I shimmy them to get you to rub them. I always mentally beg for physical adjustments in yoga classes and I always love getting them as gifts (preferably of a professional sort, but I’ll take what I can get).
I think some of it is due to the fact that massages have always been a part of my life. My parents even took a baby massage class when I was an infant (#spoiled much?) and I grew up rubbing my dad’s neck for the bank-breaking rate of 10 cents per minute.
It became my “thing” when one of my high school basketball teammates had a headache one day and I offered to massage her shoulders and neck. What my parents always did for each other for a headache. That quickly became a team tradition. My seat on the bus to and from games was a rotating massage chair for my teammates.
I guess that’s how I was first introduced to the “sports massage,” the kind that isn’t just relaxing but actually works some shit out. Though I wasn’t exactly a recipient on that basketball and field hockey bus…
Things turned professional for me quite young.
Nope, not that…
I had my first professional massage when I was probably a pre-teen. We always had a big group get together at my godparents’ cabin every summer. And one year they got my dad’s massage therapist to come out and set up her table beside the creek and everyone got a massage. It was so amazing, and I didn’t even realize it at the time. But between that experience and my favorite MT here at the beach, the bar has been set pretty damn high.
In Colorado I discovered that sometimes it’s not quite so relaxing. Sometimes what the muscles really need is a true, deep, “hurt so good” release. My physical therapist did a lot of this kind of work on my quads, which needed that “hurt so good” after running, hiking, and skiing all the time. It was around this time I started needing work done on my shoulder, whether it’s tweaked from carrying a duffle as a purse, hefting heavy food trays, or busting handstands. I needed deep release through my pec, serratus, lat, trap… At the time I lived with a massage therapist, and she loved working on me because I never told her to back off. She could work deeper than most people, even her massage therapist sister, ever let her.
I also learned about myofascial release (MFR) and started teaching a body rolling class. It’s the same principal of deep tissue massage: release of deep tension through friction. So we would roll around on tennis balls on the floor to release ski-tired hamstrings and quads. Maybe it doesn’t sound so bad, but give it a try and then get back to me.*
It’s the closest I’ve come to an at-home massage that I can have whenever I want. Goals! Until now…
Though I do get Caitlin to dig her elbow into my back and neck when it goes out. She actually really likes it. What is it about my roommates loving to torture me? Maybe I should think about that…
As I’ve said, I have my favorite massage therapist in the world in Wrightsville Beach. So I get to see her almost every time I’m home. But she won’t give in to any of my bribes to come back to Portland with me.
If I can’t have Joni available to rub me down at pretty much any moment (don’t all celebrities have personal massage therapists?! Heaven!), I’ve discovered the best at-home massage! With the Myobuddy massager, I don’t have to roll around on tennis balls (or have a massage therapist on retainer) to get a good, deep tissue massage. I plop down, plug this bad boy in, and go to town.
Ok, that sounds inappropriate. But seriously…
As athletes we all know how important recovery is, but do any of us actually do it enough? This massager gives me the deep tissue and myofascial release I crave after a run or a hike when my muscles are singing. Every single day. Every hour on the hour. Whenever I want.
Intrigued? I don’t blame you. And now get $100 off Myobuddy using the code SPFFF at checkout https://www.myobuddy.com/.
*Note: I am not your personal trainer or a medical professional.
Disclaimer: Thanks for giving my sore, tired legs the massage I always crave, Myobuddy!