Bitten By the Downward-Facing Dog

This is your elbow.

Last spring, I did 100 consecutive days of Bikram Yoga. 90 minutes of sweating, bending, sticking, stinking yoga, every day for a for more than three months straight. I was invincible, toned, and annoyingly vocal about the benefits of Bikram Yoga. Everyone should do it, I proclaimed. (Well, everyone without a heart condition.)

The heat and humidity are brutal, but as far as the postures go, it’s relatively easy. Breathing exercises, standing postures, balancing postures, a few lying on your back, a few lying on your belly, a final twist and Bob’s your uncle. No inversions, no planks, no dogs facing anywhere.

So in 100 days, I got all bendy and strong and self-righteous.

Then I made a crucial error. I took a break. Straw #1.

Also, I started Extreme Gardening again, which I count as exercise, but in fact, a repetitive injury scenario. Straw #2.

This is my elbow.

In fall, a new, non-hot yoga studio opened, and my husband agreed to accompany me. (He’s convinced hot yoga will kill me, and he’s refused to be there to witness it.) I was all gung-ho to get bendy again and eagerly threw myself into the deep end. After all, I know what I’m doing. This is old hat for me, piffling yoga compared to the truly hard stuff. (Yoga’s not competitive, my eye.)

I forgot about the inversions. Downward-Facing Dog, to be specific. Third and last straw.

Imagine doing a push-up. Got it? Now, hike your butt up into the air, until your body forms an upside-down V. Keep your legs and arms straight, and your head between your elbows. (Hello, Dog? You had me at “push-up.”)

Inversions have been a problem for me before. I did a head-stand (yeah, I DID!) only a few years ago, during an Iyengar class. I had various bands and straps and blocks and braces holding me together, but the fact is, I got up and stayed up.

Then I came down and couldn’t move my neck. No more head-stands for me, said my chiropractor.

Well, this time, I modified my postures but continued doing them. Then, after escalating pain and swelling in my elbow, I attempted to use my curling iron and just like that, I couldn’t bend or straighten my right arm. (I know in the grand scheme of things, this is a minor problem. But try brushing your teeth with your unhandy hand. Try blowing your nose. There are limits to the level of spousal assistance I’m prepared to ask for.)

“Tennis elbow,” said the doctor at the walk-in clinic. “Take drugs and rest it.”

“Tennis elbow and golfer’s elbow,” said the massage therapist. “Ice it and rest it.”

This is someone else's elbow.

“Hm,” said my chiropractor, digging his fingers around my medial and lateral epicondyles (buggered) and triceps tendon (buggered.) “I think the main problem,” he said, pressing the head of the ultrasound machine into the joint, “is olecranon bursitis.” Basically, if it’s in my elbow, it’s buggered.

The warmth and pressure felt good, so good, I let my guard down. “A little adjustment,” he added, just before whacking the joint straight with the heel of his hand. Did I mention that I can’t straighten or bend my arm?

“No more Downward-Facing Dog,” he advised, once the screaming stopped. Also, no more push-ups, no planks, no shoveling snow or washing my car by hand. (Rats.) No golf or tennis. (Darn it all.) No hand-holding, enthusiastic waves, or sudden pointing. (Fortunately, if I’m careful, I can type just fine.)

And as soon as I can, I’m going back to the hot room. Pop-Eye’s Elbow? No thank YOU.