Sunday, March 4, 2012

Now it’s all about

…walking upright.

Riding, walking, foot surgery have all come to me understanding, for the first time, what standing up straight is all about. It’s about a year or so, so far, and I’m glad to be enjoying this at the same that that I feel the ol’ bod wearing down.

Here’s how it went—

Surgery Phase

It got so that my feet hurt so bad I couldn’t walk. In fact, I couldn’t do anything because of the burning agony, 24/7. I’m no newage (“rhymes with sewage.” --Robert Bly) softie and I so just toughed it out. Why am I waiting so long, I ask myself? Well, it was because I didn’t know what to do. No new age, and no doctor either but then hark! We have a health plan now! So then Surgery to remove bone spurs, right foot (“…took out one chunk the size of a molar…); couple months later the other one (Woke up during the procedure, ha ha, but different story). Got ancient ingrown toenails sliced out, and most importantly, shoe inserts.

Mylar Facism Massage

My feet were curled over, like bows, like I was trying to hold onto my soles with my toes. Especially my big toes. I felt my arch like a big hunk of wood. I ended up going to a massage therapist who practiced that massage, oh wait, maybe its called mayo farcical… But no farce! It worked. David’s hands were like iron on those woody muscles. It was actually quite painful—no wait, it hurt like hell at first. But I made up this movement where everything hurt like there was nothing else and I just kind of leaned into it to see what else there is besides jesus fuck damn it hurts. And what there is back there behind it is this black floating on… and on… really peaceful, until it’s done, oh thirty minutes later. I asked Alisha, “Am I passing out there?” and she smiled and said, “No, Dad, that’s the zone.” But those woody muscles and ligaments loosened up, and I could really walk, maybe a whole mile or so!

And there is this thing called stretching

I never really bothered with stretching any more one good cat-stretch once I got out of bed.
Stretching’s for jocks, I’m no jock, not for me. Everyone knows that. But now I had this foot bone connected to the ankle bone” reaction going on. Every few blocks I had to do a up-out-of-bed, sometimes with pops, or little poppets, or worst of all, creaking.

Upright Man

So when walking, I would regularly stretch myself. One day I did it deliberately, carefully placing my feet parallel and very deliberately straightening up. And one time, bingo, I felt myself being held up by my bones! Totally new, and for the first time I understood what they mean when they say “hang from the top of your head.” I also felt 60 years of guilt and shame evaporate from the endless reminders to “Stand up Straight, Greg.”

So, after 60 years of working to be an upright man, I finally made it!

1 comment:

  1. Yeah, I agree, loosing up that fascia can feel downright fascist...!