Please, sir. I want a massage.

Oliver is up and running, and my body is very angry at me.  
There should be a “musical theatre boot camp weight loss program”. The amount of physical effort and stamina required to run a musical from top to bottom is unlike anything in almost any kind of theatre (swashbuckling swordplay epics notwithstanding). And since I’m also the kind of masochist who would insist on going to the gym six days a week even if the apocalypse is raging, I am putting my body through a great deal these days. 
 
The first act of Oliver is a marathon: I play an orphan, Mr Sowerberry, a gentleman, a muffin seller, one of Fagin’s boys and a Bow Street Runner. That means six costumes, and five costume changes. Four of those five costume changes are quick-changes (generally under a minute; two are less than 35 seconds) and two of them must be done while I’m singing. I participate in eight musical numbers in the first act alone, and often have to lift or haul heavy tables or stair units. I and many others in the cast come off stage at the end of act one drenched in sweat from the effort of it all. I’m not complaining, though: there’s a sense of pride in the way we all rise to the occasion of putting so much work in to the show every night. And the second act is a quite a bit easier for me, so I have lots of time to recover while other cast members run their own marathons. 
 
We’ve been warned about the need to look after ourselves, since running a show such as this one is strenuous. I’d like to think I’ve taken it to heart… but that would be dishonest. I’ve been doing a great deal of stretching, taking Epsom baths as often as possible, and resting whenever I can. I should also be going for a massage at least once a week, but I have yet to do that. Every week I say “on my day off I’m going to get a massage”, and every week I find some ridiculous excuse not to go. I think my current favorite excuse is “but it’s my day off“. 
 
As the run of the show goes on and the physical “routine” of it becomes something to which I’ve adapted, I’ve been lulled into thinking everything is fine… but my body is definitely tired, and wants a little care. After only three shows so far this week, my body already feels like it did after finishing eight shows last week. I wake up in the mornings feeling like rigor mortis has set in, and I fear my body will soon go on strike. So this post is, in part, an attempt to publicly shame myself into seeing a massage therapist this weekend. Even if it is on my day off.

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