I was lying on the floor yesterday in the transition area between the kitchen and living room, using my foam roller to work the never ending lumps that form randomly in my legs. It occurred to me as I found the most sensitive spot requiring "massaging" and vocalized my low level of comfort, that the pain was not as significant as it used to be. Not for myself, I was wincing at a close nail clipping the other day. My wife was intently downloading music to the 'cloud' for our upcoming trip, about 3 feet away from my grunting and when I looked up to see if she appreciated the amazing temperament I was exhibiting through mere moaning instead of screaming, received not nary a glance!
Interesting that her level of complacency to my pain had set in long before mine had. I figured at some point those neurons that receive pain messages will eventually wear out and it would be come a dull ache. Seems like it has managed to get stronger, something about 50 miles a week might be attributing to that.
What do I do? Men suffer self-inflicted pain for women's benefit, for our benefit - to be macho and receive praise for machoness. Circle of life really. I've come to the conclusion she has developed a filter for my macho aches from the actual ones. This leads me to think I'll have to start taking up new sports and physical activities. I figure, like Star Trek as they fight the Borg, if I alter my whines to a new activity and then length of time the condolent comments and hugs should continue. Of course at some point I'm gonna have to take up the life as a stuntman if I keep upping the ante. I suppose I could just find somewhere to suffer in silence and be a real man. Nah, that's for girls.
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