Page 36 of Gym Bros
“And exhale folding forward, but don’t do that yet.” He grabs for one of the rectangular blocks that were here both other times but we never touched. He sets it on its end in front of me on my mat. Then he positions one on his.
“So, when you fold forward, that’s obviously a big hamstring stretch. If you can’t reach the block, that’s totally fine. You can just touch your knees. Whatever initiates the stretch but doesn’t hurt.”
He shows me both options. Honestly I have no idea which one I’m going to be capable of, if either.
“I’m trusting you to know your limits,” he says.
To that, I actually laugh.
He sighs. “Just don’t hurt yourself, okay?”
“Believe me, I don’t intend to.”
“I mean, I’ve never torn a hamstring before, but to me this stretch feels good. So maybe pay attention to both legs. If it feels good on the left, your right should tolerate it even if it doesn’t feel as good.”
“Yeah, okay. I get what you’re saying.”
“Wanna try?”
“Yep.”
We breathe in and lift our arms again. He folds forward, his hands landing on the block and I…try. My hands stop about six inches shy of the block, and I’m not sure what’s holding me back. I don’t even feel my hamstrings engage. It’s my back that won’t do the folding thing.
“Why am I so fucking stiff?” I grumble.
“My guess is it’s hard to fold an eight pack in half.”
I put my hands on my knees and turn to look at him. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No, just a theory.”
“How do you know I have an eight-pack?”
“Pure assumption on my part,” he says.
“Does that mean I’ll never be able to do this?” I ask.
“Have you ever been able to touch your toes?”
“When I was a kid. In Kung Fu.”
“How long did you do that for?”
“Six years?” I say. “Something like that. I never got my black belt or anything.”
“You tell me, then, do you feel like your abs are in the way?”
I laugh. “No. I feel like my back won’t bend.”
“But your legs are okay?”
“Totally fine.”
“Do you have a chiropractor?” he asks.
“No.”
“Want help?”
