Healing hands

I saw a sports masseur last night. Best hour of my life. Well, nearly. I was expecting 60 minutes of pain so was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be quite relaxing. Admittedly, there was plenty of shouting when he located the problem with my 'hammy'. However, in the words of Mr Masseur 'you don't have to work deep to get good results'. Which meant much of the session was not only therapeutic, but also very soothing. He gave me lots of advice about how to get a good post-exercise stretch too, but at this point I was falling asleep due to his gentle voice and ambient lighting. Mind you, I do recall his recommendation to buy a tennis ball and stick it in a pair of tights. Then you can use it to rub the ball of your foot (good for muscles all the way up your leg, apparently) or to massage your back (hold one end of the tights (the gusset, I guess?) then wedge the ball between you and the wall and rub yourself about a bit). My housemate has a sore shoulder, I may recommend it to him. Last week, he got me to stick my bony little elbow in his back. After 30 seconds, I was sweating like a porker and he could barely feel a thing. No sense no feeling, I say. Perhaps I should get him a snooker ball and a pair of tights? Anyway, I would highly recommend everyone have a sports massage. His ministrations have already stopped the constant painful throbbing in my hamstring and my calves feel considerably less tight. Maybe if I cut out a few things, I could afford him every week. You know, just the luxuries like take-out coffee. Or food.