Servin' up a Can of Whiplash

Servin' up a can of Whiplash

I arrived at the Physical Therapist's office looking circular. I may have well just rolled in. Years of IT work, perhaps years of tennis, obsessed cycling and of course my recent fall off the bike have rounded me into a semi-permanent curved fetal position. The diagnosis? Whiplash. Yep, the fancy name is Cervical Acceleration-Deceleration (CAD) but it just sounds wrong to say it, so I won't ever again.
I quickly countered with my self diagnosis of a Google influenced rhomboid muscle strain. Denied any legitimacy on my internet searching prowess,  I realized I won't be making a successful career transition to
Physical Therapy anytime soon. However, I appreciate the validation that something was wrong with me the past few weeks. 

After the therapist tweaked my neck this way and that, I felt six feet tall again. Ok, I'm only 5'10 but who's counting? Well sure, I'm always counting but it's more how you spin the data that counts. Especially since I was given the green light to ride...."you can try ten, no probably twenty miles for now..you should be ok....but fifty miles?? No way, not yet". 

Excellent! My normal bike to work commute is only seventeen miles. And if I ride back to my car, well that also keeps me under 20 miles. Added together the rides don't total fifty either so, I'd say I'm riding within the spirit of the law. I've got the green light to recovery and I'll spin around it anyway I can. For now, I get to roll some tennis balls on either side of my spine. Turns out that rehab exercise I Googled was spot on. There's hope for me yet.