It all comes down to the luggage

Keen followers of this column might recall that back in the autumn I parked my passport on the dresser, packed a tiny overnight bag of essentials and checked into an even tinier clinic in Switzerland to have my left knee seen to. After three days of peerless care at the Klinik Gut in St Moritz I checked out and started 10 days of intense physio with a warm and highly motivated therapist at the clinic’s satellite branch focused on after-care and muscle maintenance.

The balance of the autumn and early winter involved half-hearted 30-minute cycling sessions whenever and wherever possible (I’ve never been a fan of sitting on a bike that doesn’t take me anywhere) and while my knee was feeling perfect my doctor suggested I start a proper training session to get me back on the treadmill and eventually out on the road. It took only one phone call by Doktor George and a bit of schedule-juggling to secure a Christmas eve session with Viviane at the clinic’s gym.

Hours before I was due to be seated around the dining table for a Christmas Baltic feast I made my way up the hill to the gym and was greeted by the grinning, if somewhat mischievous-looking, Viviane. “You can call me Vivi for short,” she told me. While I wandered around the chilly space inspecting the equipment, wondering what type of torture I was in for, Vivi was at the reception desk prepping for my assessment. I was expecting Vivi to return with a big set of callipers and tape measure but instead she handed me the biggest glass of water I’d ever seen and asked how much water I consumed.

“I reckon about two of those,” I said, motioning towards the half-litre glass. “That’s not enough, Tyler. You need to be drinking about five of these a day,” Vivi scolded. “OK,” I replied with a sunny smile, deciding it was best not to let Vivi know that I meant only two glasses a week.

With jumbo glass in one hand and towel in the other I was led off to the examination room at the far end of the gym. Inside, the massage table in the middle of room looked welcoming but the metal contraption bristling with dials, knobs and screens parked alongside looked angry and menacing.

“All you need to do is lie down, take off your right sock and just relax. I’m going to attach a series of monitors to you and then we’ll get some results,” explained Vivi. “What kind of results?” “Body composition results – body fat, bone mass, water,” said Vivi. “We’ll have all the results tomorrow, so today we’ll just start out easy and check your balance and strength,” she added, pulling off the monitors and turning off the contraption.

Wandering back into the gym I was directed to a pile of wooden blocks, boards and beams that instantly reminded me of my primary school PE sessions. While I looked on, Vivi built up the blocks and boards and invited me to balance on top of them. Then I was instructed to jump off and shown a few lunging-style exercises. And then asked to get back on top of the balance board. At every step and wobble I was told to monitor my posture, breathe and remember to knock back some of the water from the impossibly large glass. On day two I received my results and Vivi explained we’d be embarking on a programme that would involve strengthening my left leg, working on my balance, building upper-body strength, dropping a few kilos and drinking lots of water. For 18 days I met Vivi for 60 to 90-minute sessions that mixed pain with small doses of pleasure and by the time I left the mountains in mid-January I was running again (albeit on a treadmill) and walking that little bit taller. Vivi had sent me on my way with a special exercise programme designed for my life on the road and Doktor George offered controversial advice as well.

“You do know that one of the easiest routes to back injury is placing bags into overhead luggage bins when you fly,” said Doktor George. “You should really make sure you take care as it’s so easy to throw your back out.” “What are you suggesting, then?” I asked. “It might be time to rethink your luggage,” he said.

At this point I think my eyes might have narrowed as I stared at Doktor George. I was trying to read what the good doctor was suggesting and whether he was baiting me in jest or serious about a complete rethink of my no checked luggage, no carry-on wheely-bag policy.

“Definitely something to think about for 2010,” I said with a smile.

A few weeks ago, while walking through Tokyo’s Marunouchi district with a nagging pain in my lower back, the Doktor’s words started ringing in my ears while I passed a Rimowa boutique full of gleaming aluminium cases – 90 per cent of them with wheels! I ventured inside, pulled a couple of the more handsome models off the shelves and gave them all a spin on the polished floor.

I’ll leave it until next week to let you know what happened next.

Tyler Brûlé is editor-in-chief of Monocle
tyler.brule@ft.com
More columns at www.ft.com/brule