Saturday, February 5, 2022

Battered Feet

 Battered fish sounds more fun than battered feet. I'd even settle for a battered mars bar...if forced.  But I AM forced to admit that walking from Lands End to John O Groats - even virtually, in a pair of old, wrecked and comfortable boots has damaged my feet. I don't know why I didn't listen to friends when they told me I needed new boots.

I have plantar fascitis - along, it seems, with at least half of those who walk.  It seems everyone gets it - a bit like Covid...and it doesn't help much but at least it isn't sciatica.  Exercises, and yes I will keep walking.

So I have bought slippers.  I never wear the things, I far prefer bare or socked feet, but apparently, according to my nurse friend (who, guess what, has PF) it's the thing I must do. Who knew?

New boots, well, I will get there.  At about £150, they will need to wait for pay day.  Limping is something I can do, physio exercises are something I can do.  Complaining isn't an option - I am not in the pain I was with sciatica and maybe I will just get a plastic parrot for my shoulder and dignify the limp a bit!  I am grateful in the extreme to be 56, healthy, on nothing but asthma drugs and otherwise healthy.  Who worries about a slightly weakened left leg and hip (the legacy of the sciatica apparently)

It hasn't stopped me signing up to walk the Great Wall of China - or 2000 miles of it, over 2 years.  At the moment I am seriously behind, according to the nagging walk app, which tells me to "get a move on" I wish.

But the sun is out and the weather is crispy.  I am sure that is a good thing.

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