Potato, P-AH-TAH-TOE

Could I really be near the end of my sentence? Might I be granted time off for good behavior (or behaviour)? I can hardly contain my excitement.

I've missed a few entries on my appointments with Pieter, Troy and, new character, Bill. I write these things in my head sometimes and I just haven't gotten them down on the computer.

A few highlights:

On one visit I realize how incredibly week my right foot is. I mean, really. Pieter throws a towel on the floor and asks me to drag it with my toes. Oh, yes, there's a weight at the end. I simply cannot do it. So, we go for the "Girlie" weight (ok calm down feministas, I'm one of you, so I can say it). And, it's not alone ridiculously light, but also Pepto Pink! So, please. I can barely do that, and so, now I have a new exercise of getting my toes to actually do something aside from sport poorly applied nail polish (not in pink.)

It's not a good idea to bring your incredibly cheeky four-year-old child with you to PT. First you can't concentrate. Second, she tries to do what you are doing on the treadmill and she might get hurt. Third, she's not exactly a wallflower. And, most importantly, she will manipulate the bones on the fingers of the skeleton into a familiar NJ greeting (unbeknownst to her the true meaning, but --- ah, a chip off the old block nonetheless).

Lastly, no matter how long you give the Jersey girl mean stare to Pieter, he will win the stare down and you will not be running until he says so.

So, now we're down to week 6 for me, but apparently it's only week 4 for Pieter (thus, the title). So, we split hairs until we agree that it's week 5. Somewhere between people from NJ being big complainers along with people from the Netherlands, we get down to work. I'd rather have a beer and keep complaining, but, I've grown lazy in my new non-running life.

Pieter pokes and prodes my foot and, finally, pops it. Oh, relief! Amazing! I get to do a few exercises and then, big prize, I get to run on the treadmill. This is really torture, mostly becuase of the device they string me up in to run. Let's just say, it's not glamorous. I get to do 15 minutes this week. My new friend, Bill, keeps me company and we chat about, what else, running. I'm glad he's there as the time goes faster. And, I finish.

Troy comes out of hiding to see what's up. One more week, Pieter declares. Then, maybe I will let you run again. I sigh with relief and I want to hit the wall at the same time. I need to hit the trail, but I know that if I don't wait, the treadmill torture device beckons again.

PT - The New Confessional

After much coordination with my real world and mother/driver schedule, I land on an appointment with Troy at SPI. I'm so relieved. I almost cancel due to a conference call, but, frankly, I can't take it anymore, my foot is a little ham at the end of my Q-tip leg.

Troy pokes his head around the door. Hey, come on back. I load up (like a camel -- laptop, bags, water) and start heading toward him. He looks at me, dubiously.

You're limping, he says. Yeah, Troy, it's killing me.

Silence. Have you been running? he asks me, half serious and half joking.

Are you kidding, I ask him. He bores his eyes into me. Seriously, Troy, I have not been running. I'm back to junky status. Cut to the A&E episode ...Intervention. Cue the music. Troy, really, with my hip, I could still run. I mean, yes, it hurt, but I could do it. Dude, I cannot rotate this foot.

Troy still looks skeptical.

Pieter is there too. Yes, Pieter is the way his name is really spelled. Sorry, I have been spelling it the American way. Anyway, he says, what did you do? Oh God, here we go. I swear, I have not been running. Really.

So, I say, hey, you all told me I could go to spinning. I went to spinning on Sat. By the way, it is SOOO boring, but I did it! Anyway, the next day, I was really busy running around and by the end of the day it was a little ham again.

You told me I could to spinning. Yes, they both acknowledge their previous suggestion that spinning was fine. Troy starts to move my foot, cracking things, commanding me to walk, sit, crack more. He's quiet, that Troy. I start babbling away about the trainer at Lifetime and how he's going to help fix my stride issues. He ran track, blah, blah...Crack, walk. So unglamorous, definitely not a cat walk.

So, Troy asks inquisitively, Spinning?

Yes, really! I declare, proud of my restraint.

Did you sit on the seat the whole time, or did you get up and do all the jumps and stuff.

Bam! Zing!

There it is. Pieter and Troy both stare, waiting for the reply. But, you said I could do spinning -- I went to a class. I mean, I wasn't going to just sit there and ride. I had to get a work out in. Pieter starts to laugh. Troy shakes his head. You need to just sit in the saddle, no jumps or standing.

I slouch. I probably look like a sullen three-year old. Ok, I murmur. No standing. Just sitting and riding. Crack, rotate. Sit here. Ok, walk again.

You guys have to be more specific, I tell them.

Hey Troy, I thought you'd release me to run a few miles this week. You know, like 2 or so on the trail. No, forget it, he says. Pieter laughs again.

On the way out, I run into my friend Patrick Evoy. Hey Man, what's up? Oh, forget it, Achilles. Yeah, I have fifth Metatarsal -- Yeah, I know, I read your blog. We high five and go opposite ways...he goes in and I head to my car. I think, again, we sound like we've fallen off the wagon...we need a group.