I have a tendancy to build up muscle knots in my back. Sometimes they're small and don't bother me, but this morning when I woke up I had a big one around the edge of my right shoulder blade that was uncomfortable without moving my arms. It's in a weird spot and I can't effectively roll it, so I asked Andrew if he would massage it for a bit to ease the discomfort. Because he's a wonderful husband he obliged, and spent almost half an hour pressing on lumps in my back.
Then we had this conversation:
Andrew: You've got knots on knots.
Me: I know, I didn't think I over did it at the gym yesterday, except maybe for the bench press.
Andrew: This isn't from the gym. I can feel bits moving onto top of other bits that aren't muscle or bone.
Me: I guess I'm stressing out a bit.
Andrew: Just think about Hannibel Lecturn [sic], he's have to stew you for ages.
Me: That's a weird and disturbing reference, where did that come from?
Andrew: I don't know, it just came out. But think about how unpleasant you'd be.
Me: I guess I'd just be really gamey.
Andrew: I don't know, the knots are build ups of lactic acid, right? So you'd be meaty with these hard lumps in it. So think of Hannibel Lecturn [sic] think of that as an incentive to not build up knots.
Me: It's Lecter.
Andrew: Oh, sorry, Lecter.
Me: And wouldn't that be an incentive for me to build up knots?
Andrew: Yeah, maybe.
Then we laughed, and I wrote this blog post.
Ciao,
Andrea
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