Friday, January 27, 2012


Physical therapist to me: "So, tell me what is going on with your foot?"

Mags (cutting me off): "My Mama's foot is hurting her. It's right here, on this spot. Don't touch it, though, cause she'll yell at you."

It's true. I admit it. However, I gave fair warning before I yelled. 

I had tendinitis of the Achilles Heel. Since I had taken care of it right away tried to treat it on my own for so long, my calf decided to get itself involved. I guess it wanted to make a point. After a few charley horses at 2a.m. that made me vociferate words that would make a truck driver blush, I gave in and went to physical therapy.

I loved my physical therapist because she was a runner. On top of that she was training for a marathon. She loved talking about her long training runs and I loved to listen. We were a match made in heaven.

Of course, most of the time I went I had my trusty side-kick with me, also known as Mags. She enjoyed doing the stretches with me and I enjoyed having a partner to do them with. She kept count for me during all the different exercises I was assigned to do. I always had to do ten of each and Mags would never let me cheat. "Nope, Mama, you only did nine!" Grrrr.  Who taught her to count correctly? 

One day my physical therapist brought over a container of marbles. She dumped them out and told me I had to pick them up with my toes. She said to take my time because it was a lot harder than it looked. Little did she know that I had a hidden talent. After she walked away to check on another patient, I picked them up and I did it fast. When I finished, Mags jumped up and we looked at each other in amazement. I whispered to her, "I'm like a monkey Mags!" She fell over laughing, literally. 

The ruckus we caused caught my PT's attention. She came back over to find out what was so funny. I showed her all the marbles that I had put in the container and she was amazed. She dumped it out and told me to show her what I had done. Then she brought over two other PT's to take a gander at my technique. I guess they'd never seen a mom before in flip flops. You know, the one who used her toes to pick up her fallen keys in a parking lot she couldn't  bend down to get because she had a baby in one hand and a cantankerous, ready to run two year old in the other. Either way, the PT people were impressed. My mind wandered for a few seconds thinking of all the possibilities. 

Do you think this could become an Olympic event? 

If it does...London, here I come!


  1. Most def should be an Olympic event. The most I can get with my toes is a sock or a towel or teeshirt. I now idolize you!

  2. Are you back to running full force yet? I am still not 100% and it is driving me crazy! I really wanted to train for a half marathon! Grrrr!!!