The Dragon Lady

Growing up with Art I had two forms of torture that I had to face both at school and at home. The first form was called Physical Therapy (PT) or as I would call it in my mind, Pure Torture. The second form was Occupational Therapy (OT) which I never came up with a fun little nickname for but despised as much as I did PT.

In school I had PT twice a week. The Dragon Lady would come to my classroom and interrupt my schedule of being as quiet and unnoticeable as possible in the class as to avoid being teased on the playground. I dreaded that time because the sheer act of getting up in front of everyone to walk out to meet the dragon lady meant that all 25 pairs of eyes were on me from the time I stood up to the time I quickly slipped through the classroom door out into the hall. And those same 25 pairs of eyes would be on me when I came back, all but guaranteeing I would be teased at some point during afternoon recess. Oh how I hated those biweekly visits from the dragon lady. She wasn't mean, really she was pretty nice to me considering I would barely speak to her, I tended to glare at her, and I would perform my exercises with the same enthusiasm saved for facing ones death. I hated PT. I hated the idea behind it because honestly, it didn't feel good so how could it BE good? They all kept telling me and my parents that movement was GOOD, that it would be HELPFUL. Funny, but the more I moved, the more my joints hurt. The hotter they got, the redder they got and the more swollen they got. I hated PT and I hated that it felt like no one was listening to me. So I stopped talking. I just shut up, got up, and went into our little conference room and did what ever form of torture the dragon lady had dreamt up in what I imagined was her evil lair, filled with exercise bands, therapy balls, and various Velcro ankle weights. Ooooo how I hated those heavy, hard clunky ankle weights.

OT I don't remember as vividly. I don't think I had it very often and since when I did have it it tended to focus on doing art work, playing with putty or coloring. Things that I thoroughly enjoyed. Even the act of having to get up and GO to OT from class didn't bother me because I knew that while my classmates were toiling in class working on vocabulary words or diagramming boring sentences, I was getting to be creative and play. Ha! In your face third grade!

Growing up, PT and OT were always on my mind. Dreading that physical movement each and every day. Even on the weekends I wouldn't get a break from it. That evil dragon PT lady, well her clutches spread into my parents! She sent home the poison apple in the form of MORE exercises for me to do at home. At home! Even in the peaceful sanctity of my own home I would be forced to do the hated exercises, all while being told it was GOOD for me. That it would HELP me feel better. Whatever! Not only did it hurt sometimes, they were BORING! I mean really for any 8 year old how exciting is it to lie on your belly and have to lift your arms and legs up like you are Superman? I'm 8, I'm not an idiot, I know I am not Superman. I will not fly, I will not leap tall buildings in a single bound. Heck there were days I couldn't manage the two steps from my bedroom to the bathroom. So don't sell me on exercises with "Ooo imagine your Superman!" Trust me, in my mind I was saying screw you. I'm sure if they looked close enough into my eyes they probably could've read that thought as well.

This morning I woke up and the first thought was, I wonder how my run today is going to feel? When can I fit it in our schedule today? It hit me, wait a minute, I'm looking FORWARD to this! It's physical activity and I can't wait to do it? Wow that's weird. My day was going to be busy, dropping boys at school, stopping at the retirement villa to vacuum the pool, grocery shopping, etc. Midget was still sniffly so I couldn't take him to the Y kids center so I could run. Hmm. Then after lunch I had a meeting at the boys school followed by escorting the oldest child to an audition. Ah the rock n roll lifestyle of a Mom! Around lunchtime I was back to thinking about my run when it occurred to me that after Ian's audition we would have about 2 hours before hubby would be home with the other two munchkins. Why not take him with me on the run? Ah ha! Problem solved.

After a good audition and a fairly good school meeting Ian and I got home and got changed into running gear. I instructed Ian on what we were going to do, I would tell him when to go and we would run for a certain time and then walk for a certain time. And to stave off any hopes he may have of 'beating' old Mom I told him that we were to match our pace of running so that he was next to me. We were not racing!! We headed out the door and I was curious to see how Ian would rate as a running partner.

I now understand why some articles recommend having a run partner. Having Ian with me definitely made a difference in how I ran and how fast I went. First off, he had the great idea of getting off of the road and running on the trail that is in the golf course which runs throughout our housing complex. That way we could run/walk without fear of being hit by a car or trying to avoid all the cars parked on the road. Then I noticed that since I was also keeping an eye on him and making sure he was keeping up and trying to keep up with his idle chit chat I wasn't so worried about falling as I was with the first run I did. I was still thinking left, right, left, right but the "don't fall" phrase dropped out pretty early.  The proudest moment was when I realized that I had to tell IAN to keep up with ME during one of the run intervals. I hope it was because he truly was getting winded and not just placating his Mom and letting me think I was outpacing him. Either way, it felt good.

We reached our driveway puffing and feeling good. Another run, better than the first, was under my belt. For once, the movement DID feel good. I listened to what my body wanted to do and how it could do it and it helped. My thigh muscles are sore, of course, but it feels good. It's weird to say that, that part of me is sore, but that it feels good. I'm still wrapping my head around that idea.

I will probably never cross paths with the dragon lady again. I don't even remember her name. And even if I did, I would never admit that the exercises probably did help protect some of my flexibility. It's a pride thing. But there was one thing she did also always say to me, "Listen to your body, you are the only one who knows what it can do." And ok, I'm listening.