Peas, pantyhose and PVC pipes

It started with a bag of frozen peas.

Thanks to a nasty knee injury from running, I had gone through 12 ice cube trays in one week. After a Ziploc bag burst under my pants – giving new meaning to the expression “my water broke” – I finally made up my mind to invest in an ice pack.

Meijer had quite the selection of medical supplies, with hot and cold packs nestled between compression stockings and Depends. They were $8.99 for the large, $5.99 if I wished to ice my pinkie.

Now $9 isn’t a hell of a lot, but for something that has essentially the same function as water, it seemed a bit on the steep side. I recalled, as a kid, once using a bag of frozen peas when I slammed my fingers in the car door, and decided that might be my best bet. I hobbled to the frozen food aisle: Only a buck-fifty for the store brand, and every bit as effective as the cold compress. They could take on the shape of my knees, be refrozen, and if I ever wanted to make split pea soup, well, I’d be halfway there. Pleased with my peas, I cashed out and headed home to put them to use.

Two months later, my knees were no better. My physical therapist recommended I get patella straps to alleviate some of the pain, and handed me a catalog showing a variety of models, running for about $15 to $20 each. From the looks of these things, all they did was put pressure under your kneecap. I wondered why I couldn’t just make my own patella straps.

That’s where the pantyhose come in. I tied them snuggly around my knees, and miraculously, the swelling seemed to subside. They even fit under my jeans (and there was no risk of leakage this time).

But despite my icing, compressing and obsessive stretching, my knees were still in no shape to run. Since physical therapy was offering little benefit, I had moved on to a chiropractor who practiced deep tissue massage. He suspected my IT band was so tight that stretching wasn’t enough and suggested I get a foam roller.

Now a foam roller is simply a cylindrical piece of foam that you roll on to massage out tight spots in the tissue. The most basic models retail for about $20. I had already rolled through one of these and knew that I needed something more intense -- something more expensive.

“Can’t I just find something hard and round and roll on it?” I asked.

“Like what?"

The guy at Home Depot seemed a little surprised when I asked him where I could find the PVC pipes, but he was eager to help. I imagine Eric was already fantasizing about this tall blonde in nothing but a hard hat when he showed me to the back of the store. And then he said,

“Can I ask what you’re using this for?”

“To roll on.”