Testing the health benefits of a ‘rough treatment’ massage

IT was one of those rare moments when the planets aligned.

On the Wednesday, I was at BT Murrayfield playing my first competitive rugby for more than 20 years.

And the following day, I was due back in Edinburgh for my first massage, well, ever.

Actually, that’s not quite right.

For my 40th, my wife treated me — us, in fact — to a spa trip and my “treatment” was a head-and-neck massage and facial.

Now, the first bit was all right, I suppose, though every time I felt as if the masseuse was getting to grips with my knotted neck, she’d move on and stroke my forehead for a spell.

I really didn’t take to the facial at all. I’m one of those people who hate to be greasy or oily — it’s all I can do to apply the suntan lotion, and even then I have to wash the residue off my hands immediately.

And when cooking I’m constantly wiping my hands clean on a tea towel.

So at the end of the session, when I was told to leave all the essential oil on my face for an hour “for maximum effect”, I lasted barely 10 minutes before I was in the en suite scrubbing away.

So when I pitched up at the Jan de Vries shop in the capital, I had pretty much no clue what to expect.

But with a body all scuffed up from playing touch rugby along the road just 24 hours previously, already-knackered knees screaming from trying to run about like a man two decades younger and hamstrings tighter than Anne Robinson’s face, I was praying for a miracle.

Thank heavens, then, for Joanna Bednarek in whose expert hands I was placing myself.

When we arranged my visit, it was suggested I might have a Polynesian massage, just one of the various styles offered.

But Joanna took one look at the damaged human hirpling into her consultation room and realised that some rather more forceful treatment was required.

As a result, I spent the next hour being subjected, sorry, treated to what basically amounted to a sports massage with a dash of several other styles — Polynesian included — thrown in.

I have to admit that various injuries over the years have involved several spells under the care of physiotherapists, so I’m used to vigorous manipulation.

And while the massage at the spa stay seemed more of a gentle stroke, Joanna demonstrated hands strong enough to knead as much dough as you could pummel on an entire series of The Great British Bake Off.

I was quite glad when Chris the photographer left for another job after taking snaps for the first few minutes, because it meant he couldn’t witness my grimaces, grunts and groans as Joanna inflicted the most thorough going-over this side of KGB headquarters.

As she explained, she tailors the pressure and what have you to the individual and had concluded that A: I could take the hard stuff, and B: I really needed it.

And I think she got a pretty good workout, too, as several times she exhaled heavily with the effort of really digging deep into a particularly-stubborn knot.

Mind you, this was after she’d stopped laughing at my calf muscles.

With my knees technically not really knees in the accepted sense of the word, my calf muscles have had to compensate and provide stability with the result that they are ridiculously overdeveloped.

When I admitted my lower legs had been compared to Popeye’s forearms, I could feel her laughing for a good five minutes.

But I didn’t dare speak up because she might have done that thing to my hamstrings again.

This seemed to involve pinching them to make them tense up, and then from my position face down on the table it felt like she slapped all the way along the back of my legs with cupped hands.

I’m ashamed to say I may have taken the Lord’s name in vain at that point.

Joanna, who’s studied various massage techniques all over the world, including her native Germany and New Zealand, proved herself to be a deft diagnostician.

It turns out my body’s slightly twisted and as a result, the muscles on my right side are all bigger than the left.

That meant my lower back, which can “go” on occasion, came in for a lot of attention, as did the side of my neck.

Now, I have to admit that being virtually naked while Joanna went to work on me made me slightly nervous, so I chattered away like an excitable budgie.

This, Joanna told me, was quite unusual, as people normally focus on the relaxation but she said it made a nice change to have a chat while working.

I’d gone in feeling fairly sceptical, but after an hour in Joanna’s capable hands, I literally felt like a new man. I had limped in feeling a bit bashed up but I strode out feeling as mobile and stress-free as I had done in years.

The shoulder that had kept me awake all night and made me yelp when I put the car in fifth gear was all but perfect, and I could move my neck without pain.

And I also felt oddly positive — not even the hellish roadworks on the M8 could dampen my spirits.

n For more information, go to www.yourhealthfoodstore.co.uk or call the Edinburgh shop on 0131 526 3990.