It's official. I am suffering from a torn Plantar Fascia. In other words Plantar Fasciitis. My foot is feeling much better than it was when I arrived at the podiatrist's office a month ago. I was happy to hear the diagnosis. My doctor made me promise that I would continue icing, tensing, rolling, exercising, picking up marbles, picking up towels, working with elastic bands and stretching every day. It's like a full time job but I'm not going to complain because it's working. I even got the OK to start walking again. I'm to start out walking 15 minutes and work up to longer and longer walks. I'm going to put my orthotics in my shoes and take Rigby for a 15 minute walk as soon as I find out whether or not Tiger Woods makes the cut in the British Open.
On another note I am starting a new exercise class tomorrow. I am going to try Pilates. The Yoga Source gives a class on Saturday mornings and I've been looking for something new to kick start my program. I'm hoping this will be it. I hear it's a tough but rewarding class. I need some rewards.
My eating has been horrid. I'm afraid to get on the scale. I don't want to know what the bad news is. I know that Richard would tell me to just do it and face the music but I just can't do it. I want to try to get back on track and get in a little exercise before I face the bad news. I know it's going to be very, very bad. I don't really know why I'm eating so badly. Is it boredom? Maybe. Is it frustration? Maybe. Is it being out of work? Maybe? Is it all of the above? Maybe. I don't know but I do know that I've got to get a grip before I'm back at 225 pounds again.
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