What Gets You Moving?

I got to watch the world's slowest exercise class at my dad's yesterday. Hell has frozen over officially: my dad was OUTSIDE and EXERCISING in a GROUP with OLD PEOPLE.

I found out the motivation: he thinks the physiotherapist looks like my mom from behind. This is not really all that hard to achieve, as your average *short* Québecoise (not the rare tall ones) all look the same from behind to me. They all have these horrible flat asses. I am so lucky I inherited a little black booty and not that flat shit. She walked by and my dad was like, "look, look! Doesn't it look the same?!" and I was like, "I don't really spend as much time looking at short white ladies' asses and you do, dad."

But whatever gets him moving, right?
Hey, some people set weight-loss targets and others look forward to seeing some flat ass. There aren't too many choices at the home.

And I can't talk. I don't exercise at all.

I got to watch my dad bike and walk today, which is pretty damn cool and amazing to see. He gets to march back and forth between parallel bars and the therapist is there to catch him if he drops. He is mostly hunched over, but he's doing it, so hey.

I feel like I kinda have a piece of my old dad back. The strong daddy who didn't give up. It's nice to see a bit of fight in him coming back, like he's finally not going to let this disease take him, literally, sitting down.

My dad and I both saw this news so he wrote me an email saying, "get me a bike!"

We spoke to his physiotherapist, who said sure, he can use the stationary bike at the home. He used it today for the first time. Then he got up and walked without a cane or walker and said he didn't feel off balance at all. All I can say is holy shit. He hasn't walked unaided since he was diagnosed nearly 4 years ago now. It's a temporary thing, but it's freakin' cool.