“So I can see it.”
I wasn’t in the mood, but I stepped back into position, anyway. The first repetition felt no different from the previous ten. The second one had barely started before she stopped me.
“I see the problem,” she announced.
“What are you talking about?” I questioned.
Instead of answering immediately, she watched me go through the motions again. Her attention wasn’t on the exercise itself. It was on everything around it. The way my shoulder moved. The way my body adjusted. The way I was compensating without realizing it.
“You’re tightening up before you even start the movement.”
“My shoulder is fucked up, Tink. What else am I supposed to do?”
“I know your shoulder is injured, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
She stepped closer and touched the area around my shoulder blade before motioning for me to reset.
“You’re protecting it before it gets to the uncomfortable part. This side is doing more work than it needs to.”
“I was seeing the same thing,” Don co-signed.
I looked between both of them and shook my head.
Tink adjusted my stance slightly before stepping back and telling me to do it again. The change wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough to notice. The movement felt smoother… less restricted… less like my body was fighting itself through every repetition.
“There you go,” she praised as I worked through the exercise.
I worked through another rep, then another, and somewhere along the way I stopped thinking about the exercise and simply completed the set. By the time I finished, the frustration that had me ready to walk out of the room had settled considerably.
Don made a few notes on his tablet before glancing toward Tink.
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” he observed.
“I should. I’m in school for it,” Tink responded with confidence.
“Well, I can tell that you’ll do great things in the field,” he complimented before he went back to update my chart while I grabbed the towel hanging from the machine and wiped my face. My shoulder still felt tight, but it felt better than it had an hour ago, which was probably the entire point.
“Cool. Since she knows what she’s doing, I’on need to come back.”
“That’s not how this works,” Don countered
“Shit, it should.” I shrugged.
“But it doesn’t.”
I tossed the towel over my shoulder and grabbed my hoodie.
“Send me the exercises and do them shits with her,” I stated.
Don finally looked up from the tablet.
“Same time Friday,” he responded.
I pulled the hoodie over my head.
“Yeah, aight,” I muttered.
“Same time on Friday, Sam,” he called out.
