Last week I did such a good job of taking morning walks. Every morning I ignored the siren call of my alarm clock’s snooze button and lugged my sagging butt out of bed to pound pavement for nearly a half-hour.
I haven’t done squat.
Part of the reason is my innate laziness: sweating to the sunrise doesn’t hold nearly the appeal for me that sleeping in does. Part of it, though, is also due to my problems with foot pain.
Oh, I’ve bought new walking shoes with awesome support. But by the time I’m midway through my walk, I can’t feel the outside edges of my left foot aside from my pinkie toe which has felt, frankly, like someone was twisting it off. Slowly. And since I’ve been overcompensating for that pain, by the end of my walk my right ankle has felt like I’ve been on ice skates for hours.
It hurt. And, naturally (since there’s nothing else to do while walking) I started obsessing over all the possible causes.
Could I have rheumatoid arthritis? Is it a sign of peripheral arterial disease (PAD)? Should I start taking aspirin therapy or look into chelation to clear out my arteries?
This morning, I decided that foot pain or no foot pain, one of the best things I could do for my feet would be to reduce some of the poundage they have to carry around every day. So I got up, shrugged on my sweats and shoved my feet into shoes.
Or, rather, I tried to. Right about the time I was shoving my sore left foot into its shoe a Lego tumbled out.
That’s right: I’ve been walking for a week with a Lego in my shoe. No, I have no idea why I didn’t find it before. Yes, I’m pretty certain how it got there but I love the boy so I’m letting him live.
I’ll be walking again tomorrow morning, that’s for certain. By that time I can only hope my elderly neighbor has finally found a pair of underwear, because my out-of-shape heart can only take so much.