Come on, it's not hard to do these exercises. Really, while reading at night, watching tv, the movements can be done repeatedly -- or at least as much as required.

A few days of resistance: the outcome is less progress. Is it coincidental that I've slackened on my eating this week, too, giving into cookies at work? No coincidence.

I have to move the foot and the toes in order to develop range of motion and strength. I have to eat on a diabetes regimen now to keep diabetes at bay. I have to recognize the triggers in the direction of no-motion and glucose pursuit, and have steps ready to get on the right side.

At home, my next door neighbor Katie is my sweet taker; I email her when tempting food appears and she, 2 years out of college and a runner, takes them off my hands.


Yesterday I talked to the guy at work who's in sight of the candy bowl, and he agreed to speak up when I tip-toe in that direction.

I have my moves, perfected over many years -- including quietly stealing in and out of the back doors of our neighbors' kitchens at the San Rafael apartments, Prospect Ave., Milwaukee, when I was 5. People didn't lock their doors then. I could silently empty their sugar bowl and move on. When I was caught, my parents were seriously embarrassed.  I was enraged -- at being caught. No moral fiber for me at 5.

Karen, the physical therapist I saw today, manipulated the toes and foot and it felt much looser, more normal, afterwards. She suggested looking at all I am doing now -- walking, exercises, diet -- as helping my healing and moving. 

Even 5 minutes progress is worth the effort. If I have to live inside a bubble of good intentions -- do it.

Reaching my goals 5 minutes earlier is worth it. (And falling behind by 5 minutes, 5 hours, 5 days is not.) Nobody can do it but me.

It is still a THRILL to be able to walk down and up the stairs, rather than bumping on my rear. To be able to be out on the street and see -- shops, trees, cars, people! Not to be taken for granted.

A blessing.




Photos: Exercise sheets; Karen, physical therapist at NRH Regional Rehab at Friendship Heights; waiting for the bus after PT on Wisconsin Avenue.