I’ll never forget the first time someone strapped me into a pair of compression boots. It was 2019, and I was at a sports medicine clinic nursing a hamstring that had been stubbornly refusing to cooperate for six weeks. The physical therapist — a no-nonsense woman named Darla who had worked with Olympic cyclists — pulled out what looked like a pair of oversized astronaut pants, zipped me in, and hit a button. Twenty minutes later, I walked out feeling like someone had replaced my legs with entirely new ones. I was hooked. Fast forward to today, and compression recovery…