My new neighbour has just been telling me about her 17 year-old son, François, who’s currently in Chicago completing a ballet training intensive for professional-track teens. She’s worried about him because he told her on the phone that he thought he might have a knee injury, but didn’t have time to do anything about it, despite the place having an in-house physical therapy clinic.
I kind of get it. I mean, it’s taken me weeks to book in for a much-needed session of remedial massage therapy. Cheltenham, it seems, is not as annoying to get to as I’d imagined – if I’d known that, I’d have done it ages ago. These things tend to be a matter of getting it seen to before giving yourself time to think about whether you have the time. Try telling that to a teenager, though – especially one who’s as much of an over-achiever as young François seems to be.
Speaking of finally getting around to attending this Cheltenham clinic, sports physio sessions are next on my list of things to work into my schedule. I’ve been told by a physiotherapist in the past that I could benefit from seeing someone specifically about my running form, and I’m planning to do some marathons again next year, so now’s probably the time to get started on that.
If good form is important for me with my recreational running, I can’t imagine how imperative it must be for professional athletes – a category in which I’m including ballet dancers, although I recognise that they’re artists as well. It all blends together, more or less, doesn’t it? A really beautiful basketball match could be deemed art on some level, non?
Oops… I think I’m feigning Frenchness in an attempt be as cool as I imagine François must be (largely on account of his name). He’d better get that knee seen to, though, or his ballet career could be over before it’s even started. Hopefully, someone over there will talk some sense into him and he’ll get himself to the physio clinic on the double.