Friday, January 20, 2012

Therapy and a sore butt!

Nature is my therapist. No matter how rough, tough things get, she soothes me. I'm going to head out for my walk in a while and go to therapy again. I have discovered that I have to pursue my therapy on two feet, not two wheels.

My son is a foster kid basically. Because we had to turn to CPS for help to get him into RTC, he receives gifts like other foster kids. Lucky him because there is no way in hell I'd have bought him Air Jordan shoes. He also got a gift card to Wally Mart. He chose a bike but he left it at home after the visit because the other boys at the RTC mess with his stuff. So, I rode it. And I walked it when the hills became too much. I just don't get the same therapeutic benefit of the nature surrounding me when I can't hear the birds chirping over my wheezing lungs. I can't focus on beauty if my butt feels like someone has welded forks, tines up, to the seat of the bike. I even thought of the word peri-anal on my ride. Good damn grief, how do those guys ride for miles? Are their testicles like little air bags?

So, I'm heading back out, wincing as I walk (and I wore platform shoes yesterday to go to district left knee is reminding me that we.don'

1 comment:

  1. I have a seat on my bike I call a fat-arse seat. Partly because my butt is a wee bit bigger than I'd like, but mostly because it's a huge seat. You should invest in one. You can change it back when your son comes home. Can't tell you how comfy it is! Something like here: