Howling in Pain.

Not quite howling. *note: this post contains profanity.

I seem to recall someone saying "I threw out my back." ... for my whole life. They did it playing racquetball (hah! the 80s!) or brushing their teeth (hah! the 90s! ... I'm kidding. Good dental hygiene is always in style.) or picking socks up off the floor.

For me, I did it lifting weights. At least I have a studly excuse.

At first I didn't know what happened. I had a lovely session with my trainer, then I did my workout for The New Rules of Lifting: Lift Like a Man, Look Like a Goddess. I'm still in phase one of this workout and it's not terribly hard. So anyway, I did the workout.

My back was a bit sore. Nothing major. I didn't do anything unusual or crazy.

And then I did some foam rolling. My trainer occasionally scolds me in the way that a 20 something woodsprite looking thing can scold me and says I don't foam roll enough after lifting. Since my back did not feel awesome, I foam rolled a bit.

Neither I, nor my trainer, look like this dude.

Then I went home and I sat down to dinner. No, I didn't shower, I prefer dinner at a reasonable hour and will put off showering to eat. And when I sat down, my back said:  WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.

For the record, I turned 39 a month-ish ago. I had never once thrown out my back. I didn't even know what the hell that meant.

Here I am, 5 days later. I have been able to get up, walk around, and I did yoga and lifted weights on Saturday. I have not been confined to my bed. I have only taken copious amounts of pain medication at night.

However, WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. Why does this happen? Just one day, your back is like NOPE. Not going to operate like a normal back right now. Sorry.

I mean, COME ON. I have treated you moderately well, back. I get the occasional massage. I used to go to the chiropractor until they started harassing me to come 3 days a week. I occasionally sit in the jacuzzi at the gym with a jet pounding on you for a minute. I'm NICE. 

Whatever, back. You suck.