A Heavy First Step On The Footpath

This weekend you, dear Reader, are getting two “Having A Coffee” posts.  These are the ones where I basically journal without a great deal of rhyme of reason.  This coffee time chat is more of a therapy one! Instead of having a coffee with a friend, this is more like explaining what’s happened to my counsellor! (I did often wonder about taking a packet of biscuits to my sessions to have with a cup of tea.)

A few weeks ago I saw a stand in the middle of Manchester offering free posture checks.  The bit that caught my eye was “free” but the “posture check” thing felt like a good idea.  They took photos and suggested I go back for a half price appointment.  Because I know I have certain physical weaknesses I went to the chiropractor for a half price session. (So it wasn’t really free.)

I got a lot of sales speak today, which was a bit annoying, but it was also really interesting when it got to the proper stuff.  Obviously, he’s going to highlight everything he see’s wrong to get me to go again, but there were some points that made a great deal of sense.  He even spotted my knee that doesn’t point forwards through my jeans just by the way I was sitting apparently.

When I stand and relax, I lean to the right.  I also sway back and forth.  Apparently I’m losing about 30 degrees of movement to the right in my neck.  In keeping with the fact that all the things he spotted are worse on the right side, he got me to stand with a foot on each of two scales.  I put 3kg more pressure through my right foot than my left when I’m standing.  Apparently 1kg of difference is too much.

And yes, I did remove my wallet from my jeans first.

Apparently I’ll also put a lot more force through my right leg when pounding a footpath or doing any other kind of exercise. (Now, brace yourself.  Here’s the clever link…)

It was while pounding some footpaths this week that something else has knocked me a little off balance.  Regular readers will know my back story of being “friend dumped” around the beginning of this year.  For some reason, I’ve been really wanting to talk to her again this week.  I don’t know whether it’s just memories of things we used to do together or the fact that it’s nearly her birthday.

I’d been the only one of her friends to attend both her birthday parties while she was living locally and last year I loved being able to help her prepare for it, even if that meant I was tidying and cleaning and running a taxi service!

The day after I got a message.  I can’t remember exactly what it said, but it was a thank you.  I used to joke that she saw me as more useful than important but that was a message that made me feel important and it made me feel like I was human to her.

As much as I want to tell her what I’m doing, buy her a cup of tea or just wish her a happy birthday, the bit that still kinda sucks is that I wasn’t important enough.  If it wasn’t that I wasn’t important enough, it was that I was actually too important.

I want to do something about it, but I don’t know which is my best foot to put forward!  I’m not sure any step on the footpath would ever be good enough.

The bridge is all crumbled.
The water soaks into rocks
that fell at the bottom of the road (At the end of the town.)
The town that we lived in.
The memories shaken apart from the weeds that grow

Over the sidewalks,
Running away from the streets we knew,
Sidewalks,
Like the time we thought was made for you.
Oh…

Out on the front porch,
watching the cars as they go by
(Eighteen blue, twenty one grey)
Looking ahead for the first time that we could drive,
Out on our own,
To speed away

From the sidewalks,
Running away from the streets we knew,
Sidewalks,
Like the time we thought was made for you.
Oh…

All of the days have passed us by,
All of the sun is gone… away.

Sidewalks,
Running away from the streets we knew,

Sidewalks,
Running away from the streets we knew,
Sidewalks,
Like the time we thought was made for you.
(Sidewalks)
The bridges are crumpled,
The water soaks into rocks,
(Sidewalks)
That fell at the bottom of the road.

Sidewalks by Story Of The Year

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