My mum would have the knack! "Here?" she'd ask with a jabbing finger, answering the question of where does it hurt, scoring a direct hit on the obvious teenage spot, cut, burn, graze or sting. The confirming yelp would make her chuckle and had me once again questioning why I'd fallen for this sadistic/amusing trick of hers when all I wanted was for the pain to go away. The thing with back pain is that finding the 'spot' often has no relationship to the cause or source of discomfort.
And I have indeed been pressing, rubbing, rolling and soothing in an attempt to find that spot my mum is so adept at pinpointing. The upshot is that for as long as I can remember, this is the first weekend I've not had a run. As always, there's that catastrophic notion of 'my sport is over' and the doom and gloom that comes with that. Then again, I could just get up, have a big breakfast, administer my painkillers and take a walk in what looks like becoming an almost pleasant day. And that's all I have to say about that.
