Deadlifts Got Me Like Whoa

I am not one to usually use social media to cry about my ailments...possibly because one of my biggest pet peeves are attention seeking hypochondriacs that post EVERY little cough or sneeze or ache and pain on Faceook...deep breath...but I figured since it has been 10 days since my injury and I really wanted to use the term "dickies" in a blog post, that I could make an exception to the rule.  Monday is leg day in our house, and Heather started joining me for my workouts at the gym at the beginning of January so she could "lift heavy" like me for 6 weeks (she likes to do cardio and interval training with things like burpees when she works out...um...no...not on my time).  Well last Monday we were at the gym and I decided we would do heavy deadlifts.  Just in case you don't know what a deadlift is, one version is pictured above.  It's great for your ass, your hammies, your lower back, and even your traps.  There are many versions of deadlifts...stiff leg, straight leg, Romanian, Canadian (I made that one up), and you can do them with dumbbells, barbells, or on Smith Machines.  Since we workout at Planet Fitness and they want to discourage those acting like lunks, if you want to go heavy, you are going to have to use a Smith Machine.

 Well, I loaded that sucker up and started knocking them out, all the while trying to show my lady love what a she-beast I was.  Everything was fine...until the next day.  My lower back, really the area below my waist line to my chocolate starfish, was hurting.  Sharp, constant pain.  Very unpleasant.  I did however workout on Wednesday and Thursday, but have not lifted since then.  I have iced.  I have heated.  I have soaked and stretched.  That sucker is just angry.  I may have to sit out of kickball tonight.

But...you know the pain is real because I let Heather apply BioFreeze.  Now, BioFreeze does not smell AS BAD as Bengay, but it's real close dude.  And it gives me flashbacks to my childhood when I would get sick and my mother would rub my chest and neck with Vicks Vapor rub.  It was terrible.  But to make it worse, she would then make me wear...

A DICKIE!  Do you remember these terrible fashion monstrosities?  As I look back, my mother must have owned thousands.  And I knew even then that a mock mock turtleneck sheathe was a bad idea. But Marge would make me wear it.  That damn Vicks.  I am pretty sure it did nothing...but scar me on the inside for life.

So there you have it.  I hate to go to the doctor for something that may heal on it's own. But not lifting is killing me smalls.  So we will see.  I guess if it's not better by Monday I will see what can be done.

I can feel my biceps getting smaller as I type.

FML