We’ve moved back to the reformer, though likely not forever. I suppose this is what Pilates is about in part: variety and repetition. It’s not enough to simply learn strength and control through constant repetition of the same exercise. The routine must be varied so that my muscles learn to assume a position of power and strength no matter what situation they are in. And so, during my most recent session at Atlas Pilates, I was back at the reformer again. Many of the same exercises as before—the elephant, tendon stretch and more—with a few new ones added in. My least favorite (though Danae doesn’t know this) is still the 100’s, where I curl into the upper abdominals and, holding my legs in the air and my arms straight out at my side, pulse my arms up and down while keeping the stomach sucked in and engaged. All while breathing. Or at least attempting to. Ugh.
From there we move onto a familiar exercise, the “footwork,” which has me pulling in my stomach and pushing my feet against the reformer bar in order to move the bed against the tension of the springs. Danae really pushes me to engage the thigh and concentrate on opening the hip, and rolling the quad muscles out. The problem is, it’s much more difficult on the right side and it feels, well, different. And that’s when it hits me: it’s scar tissue in the hip joint and underneath the muscles that is getting in the way. Until now, I didn’t know what was preventing my muscles from functioning as I thought they should, or why I have that almost dirty, gritty feeling. Almost as if my gluteus muscles have to push through or past something to get to the full extension, but never can.
Being able to verbalize this to Danae makes all the difference in the world. When I do so, another light clicks on for her, too, and she begins making adjustments to my positions and to the exercises I’m doing to both help strengthen the muscles and, through use, break down that internal scar tissue. In fact, we end the day with her stretching my hip. She takes control of my leg and moves the femur head through the hip socket. For anyone who has ever had a bad neck and had the joy of light traction, this is what it’s like, only in the hip joint. As she moves my leg around, I can feel more room opening up in there. Then, she takes the time to stretch me and for the first time in as long as I can remember—since well before the surgery even—I actually feel a stretch in the very back of my hip joint, where leg meets buttocks. Heaven, I tell you. Heaven and a stretch I am not able to get on this side on my own.
