Since the time changed and it gets dark just after LUNCH I've had to resort to running on the treadmill the past few days. I'm not a treadmill fan by any stretch of the imagination, but it gets the job done and is bearable when accompanied by music or TV.
Yesterday I went home a little early so Matt and I could both squeeze in a run (Tuesdays we're always tight on time because of Bible study). I don't know what possessed me, but I decided to run barefoot. On the treadmill, that's right.
All went well for a few minutes, the main discernible difference being that each step was really loud (THUD! THUD! THUD!) compared with when I'm wearing, you know, shoes. Around mile 2 Matt, drawn by the pounding noise, walked in, looked at my feet, looked at me, looked back at my feet, shook his head and walked out.
Around mile 3 my feet started to feel like they were on fire. I decided to push through the pain for 10 more minutes. I know, I'm brilliant.
I was going to post only these pictures, of my feet immediately following the run:
But these pictures, taken after a shower, are better because they show that my feet weren't only filthy -- they're blistery. As I said, I'm brilliant:
If you notice me walking around on my heels for the next week, now you know why.
6 comments:
oh my gosh.
Maybe you should do the beautifying feet resolution in December, too. Sorry about your blistery, skanky feet!!
what in the world!? (if i were there, i'd rub them for you.)
This is a terrible way to get a plethora of comments on your blog (I bet you hate the word "plethora," right?) You have my utmost sympathy. Here's to a quick healing (heeling).
Love, Dad
I do hate the word "plethora." How in the world did you know that?
You'd be surprised what I know. . . and don't know.
Enjoy Rent.
Love, Dad
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