I have a shoe problem. Now, before my fellow women nod their heads as if to say, “You’re preaching to the choir, sister,” I think I need to quantify said problem. In my closet are somewhere in the range of 100 pairs of shoes. Flip-flops in every color imaginable, Chucks as far as the eye can see, Uggs, ballet flats, you name it, they’re in there. Tuesday, I was looking rather cute in a new pair of navy pinstripe pants with a white t-shirt and a bright blue sweater, but I needed the perfect shoe to go with it. I surprisingly don’t have too many camel-colored shoes, and I didn’t like the look of the dark brown ones with the outfit. So, I opened a box of Steve Madden heels that I’ve had for a few years and love – they aren’t exactly camel; I honestly couldn’t tell you what color they are, but they’re gorgeous. Unfortunately, they also are incredibly uncomfortable.
On Tuesday morning, I threw the shoes on, walked around in the bedroom wearing them for a minute or two, and decided they were good. Went to work where I ran back and forth to the bathroom a million times (thank you so much, 100 ounces of water), and by midday, I realized exactly why it had been so long since I last wore them. And then I remembered: about once, maybe twice a year, I put these shoes on. They’re perfectly fine as a “walk from car to restaurant and then from restaurant to car” sort of shoe, and they’re fine for maybe half a workday, but by the end of the workday, they’re ridiculously uncomfortable and my feet end up throbbing for the remainder of the day. At that point, I go home, take the shoes off, put them in their box, and forget about them for 6 months to a year, and the cycle repeats.
Perhaps I should put a warning note in the box: “WEAR THESE ONLY WHEN SPENDING THE DAY ON YOUR ASS!!” More than likely, they’ll go in their box and stay there for another 6 months. In the meantime, my feet were KILLING me. I had a blister the size of which I’d never seen before, and even barefoot, walking felt like I was constantly standing on two giant pebbles. I still attempted my run, but speed work was not in the cards. I made it a pitiful two miles before hobbling back in the door, feeling rather beaten. I took a warm bath in hopes of soothing my achy paws, but to no avail. It wasn’t until it occurred to me the following morning that a large dose of Advil might help before the pain went away.
So, I don’t do easy runs very often. I keep pretty consistent with rotating hill work and speed work. To me, tossing in a short easy run probably wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened – maybe the sore feet were sign that I should just take it easy with the training, and so I did. And in the end, I’m still glad I got my butt out there.