I’ve applied for my AARP card. Afterall, if my bunions prevent me from wearing anything but orthopedic shoes, shouldn’t I get my coffee at McDonalds for a quarter too?
There was a time when I was the girl that gave all the other girls shoe envy. I strode through the airport with efficiency in my smart black business heels. I sauntered playfully in front of a certain sexy man in five inch black velvet stilettoes. I danced for hours at the social event of the season in canal colored sandals. I toured the cobblestone streets of Maastrict in chic black heeled boots. I was Mistress of Shoes.
Then one day I woke up with pain in the joint at the ball of my foot. It didn’t take long before the stilettoes were pushed to the back of the closet and replaced with sensible black flats. A bunion had reared its ugly toe on my right foot.
There were other issues that drew me to barefoot running but I realized bunion benefits as well. Being barefoot allows my foot to remain flat. There isn’t any thing squishing my toes together. Sure, they try to tell you that heels and poor fitting shoes will cause bunions but barefoot is a custom fit and that thing is still growing.
Still, I can’t help looking into the window of a high fashion shoe store and coveting the latest styles. I was raised to believe that an outfit isn’t complete until you find the perfect pair of shoes. Sometimes, being a girl is all about the accessories. Shoes make the wo-man.
It appears that you can take the girl out of the shoes but you can’t take the shoes out of the girl.
If it seems crazy to you to think that someone would continue to wear a pair of stillettoes even though they cause that much pain, why doesn’t it seem crazy that runners would keep wearing running shoes?
It is true that I own a treadmill (purchased used for $100). Many runners call it the Dreadmill. I actually enjoy my TM quite a bit. You might even say I love it.
How could a true runner enjoy a treadmill? Because it allows me to run. Hubby out of town? Here’s the TM. 2 inches of ice on the road? Here’s the TM. Because being able to perform the act of running becomes more important than where I’m running.
But like every good lover, the TM has it’s faults. My TM is an enabler. TM enables bad form if I am not diligent.
I’ve had two minor injuries since starting on TM. Minor, but both had me out of running for a little over a week each time. The connection between the two injuries was that I was trying to go fast so that I could get as much milage as I could within a certain amount of time.
The problem is that as I increased the speed of the belt, I didn’t speed up my feet. Both times, I let my stride get longer allowing my turnover to remain the same. I was covering a greater distance with each step. A poorly angled step that caused injury over time.
Picture running down the road. What happens to your feet and legs when you speed up? I increase my turnover rate. I think “faster, faster, put the feet down faster.” I don’t think “increase stride, longer steps”. But on the treadmill, it seems a natural way to react when the surface I am on is accelerating away from me.
The treadmill might be a dreadmill to some beacause it presents a mindless run. But I’ve learned that I’d better engage my mind when I engage that speed button.
I get really excited and obsessive about things. Sometimes, the weirder they are the more obsessive I get. This would explain why I started running many years ago. If I had a nickel for everytime I’ve heard someone say, “why would you want to do that?”
It didn’t take long after I became a serious runner (the type willing to run regardless of weather conditions, although, I draw the line at Lightening and Darkness) to begin running a few races. Sorry to sound boastful but I came in third for my first 5k and have won every one I’ve run since then.
So, of course, the next logical step would be longer distances. I am currently training for my third half marathon. Even though it takes a lot of time away from family, I couldn’t resist the pull of doing another half marathon. Again, some think I’m down right crazy.
Maybe they are right. Afterall, I’m also running it in a pair of Vibram Five Fingers. Coockoo, talk about crazy!
Am I just one of those barefoot running fad followers? I could be, but I like to think that I’m just willing to try different styles to find the right one for me. I don’t want to argue the pros and cons. I don’t feel it’s necessary to find converts. Although, I’m willing to share my experiences with anyone who has a mule with a bum leg needing to be talked off. I just know that for me, right now, there is no reason to put on a pair of shoes. Waking up pain free is worth the stigmatism of running barefoot.
If I’m completely honest, it feels good to have everyone think I’m a little crazy.
The first time I picked up the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, I could not put it down. The weekend that Dog Days was released, I went to the store and bought one of each of the books so that I.. I mean, my son could read them all at one time.
I thought the movie hit the nail right on the head. SPOILER ALERT! Here’s a kid desperately trying to be popular. Most of us have been there. Acting one way or another just to be cool or because someone else says it’s cool. This kid is really trying hard yet his best friend isn’t trying at all and ends up popular because he is just himself.
Back in the 80s and 90s the story was always that the suddenly popular kid turns into a bad person and shits on his/her friends. In A Wimpy Kid, it’s the supporting character who just goes along happily being himself. It’s the being himself that makes the kids like him. He could care less about the popularity which actually makes everyone like him more. Instead of saying popular kids can only be assholes, it says popular kids can be nice kids.
It’s a great read and a great movie.
I am one of 500 senseless people who signed up to do the 100 miles to Nowhere with the super celebrity blogger Fat Cyclist.
I own a bike but I doubt that Fatty would call me a biker. I have until May 8th to get my rear in gear (literally). Luckily, for me, Fatty is not restricitve in how the 100 miles are done. I think clearly the goal is to do something senseless to fight something senseless (Cancer). I’m working on a plan to be true to the torchure of it all, just in case.
I am breaking the cardinal rule of blogging in my fourth post by blogging about blogging. Oh, well, tough tooshskies.
I had a concept for my blog and was interesed to see where it led me. Alas, a mere three posts later, I have abandoned the idea altogether. Well, maybe not the whole idea. I could bring it back whenever lightening strikes.
This discarded blog idea was just another classic short-term attention span Sophie escapade. It speaks volumes about my real-life.
You know, that one I attempt to live when I’m not shooting up with virtuality.
Even more, it speaks volumes about my virtual life. With all the choices in the virtual world of who I could be and what I want to talk about, I still don’t know. If you gave me a virtual personality test, it would tell you that I have light-years left in my evolution. It looks as though I am unable to escape my reality in virtuality.
With that I declare that my blog will have no particular subject or theme. I declare that the postings will be virtuality and reality but refuse to let you know which post is which. I declare that I will be obsessed from time to time with one or more subjects then just as quickly cast them aside. I promise that any promise I make should be considered a virtual promise and may not exist in reality.
I have climbed to the top of the ridge and taken the path that leads along the slippery slope. I wonder and worry about the wisdom (or lack of) of taking this path. Will I be able to walk the line or will I find myself losing my footing ending the life as I know it?
It seems that I cannot resist the magnetic pull of what could be. I have no more power against it now as I did six years ago. I am making the choice but it feels like the choice is making me.
If there had not been considerable physical distance between us, this story would have ended years ago.
And, so, with the nearly silent click of the mouse on the send button, I realize that there is no turning back now.