Wounded

Today, instead of lacing up to head out the door, I just finished typing up sub plans so that I can see my podiatrist in a couple of hours. With the World Masters Championships firmly inked on my calendar and my entry paid in full, this is one bucket list item I don't want to miss out on this summer. But I have come up lame in my right foot. So rather than take my chances on my own diagnosis and treatment, I am heading straight to see ol sawbones.

I had an awesome week of training last week. Many miles trodden on soft earthen trails and my feet and legs were in heaven. In fact, Saturday's run felt so good, that I stopped by my old high school track at the end of my run for some drills on the grass. Then disaster struck.

With the warmth of the sun on my back, the soft bed of green grass underfoot, I decided to take off my shoes and do my drills barefoot. With all the hoobabaloo about barefoot and minimalist running these days, I thought a few light drills would be good for the little piggies. My feet ooozed down between the lush green earth carpet as the warm, wet sod blanketed my toes. I felt like a four year old escaping his mommy and bath-time running naked around the yard. However, I forgot I was not a four year old, but a forty-four year old kid who has to wear protective orthotics now in order to keep his crusty white boney toes in-line.

As I finished the drills, laced up and headed for home, I noticed that my right foot felt a little tight. Then later that night, my right heel felt as if someone was taking an ice-pick trying to carve a stinking Swan out it. Ouch! Damn! Plantar Fasciitis! So now it is off to see the podiatrist. At least he knows that I am a runner and that I don't care if I ever walk normal again, I only want to be able to run and right now, I can't. This sucks!

So out the door I go to see the doc and I hope I will see you out on the road, track and trails very soon. Stay healthy and run some miles for your wounded fallen brother.