A Half Hour a Day

I am healing.

I have good days and bad days, but am on my feet and moving and living life again, so I have few complaints.

I ache like a 90 year old woman in the mornings, and feel about as crochety as the crabby ones!  But within two hours have worked out most of the kinks.

I walked on a treadmill at Physical Therapy yesterday.  Or shall I say, “I moved my feet and hung onto the bars of a treadmill with a death grip for my dear life yesterday.”  My PT said I was ready…I begged to differ.  “Lengthen your stride,” he said.  “What?  A 12 inch stride isn’t long enough?  It gets me where I’m going,” I said.  And he raised his eyebrows at me, crossed his arms over his chest, and scolded me with nothing more than a look.  I felt like a child again.  Which is good, cause it counteracted the whole 90 year old woman thing.  “You don’t have to hold onto the bars quite so tightly,” he said.  “Do you WANT to pick me up off the floor?” I said.  And again, with the eyes.   “You aren’t following through with your step,” he said.  “How can you tell that?” I said.  “Hear that grinding sound the machine is making?  That’s how I know…so follow through with that left foot.”  “*sigh*” I said, and again with the look.

So then, I quit being ornery and gave it the old college try, and before I knew it, I was walking….REALLY walking, with a full stride and a little bit of speed, and the biggest shock of all…..it felt GOOOOOOOD!  🙂  And just like any good teacher, my dear PT went from arms crossed, eyebrows raised, to cheering me on and praise for the five minutes I managed to stay on this machine.  And also, like any good teacher, he reminded me that fear can be the most damaging thing of all.