I'm seven days away from marathon #13, and the biggest worry on my mind right now is my left foot. No, not the award-winning Daniel Day Lewis movie...my actual left foot. My battered, worn-out, geriatric-looking foot that has been through stress fractures, plantar fasciitis, a ruptured posterior tibial tendon that was replaced with a tendon from my big toe and the latest: arthritis in my big toe and in the midfoot joint back behind the big toe. In the past year, the arthritis has made itself known, and that it's not leaving -- and it's been a battle. So much so that I didn't do the spring marathon I was signed up for when the pain really flared up. A couple of cortisone shots later, I salvaged a summer of okay training, and I've gotten to this point where I'm ready to go.
And with that, I want to thank my foot. That same foot that I curse time and again and that has cost me so much money and heartache, and the foot that sometimes won out and convinced me to do one less rep, or cut the tempo short. It reminded me that training is a balancing act, and walking a fine line between injury and improvement.
Dear old foot, you look like you're 85 years old, far beyond your 33 years on this earth, with bony, exaggerated joints and a scar as evidence of the wear and tear you've endured. You don't like to be woken up quickly and heaven help the person who relies on you for too many repeats on the track -- turning left is NOT your favorite thing. You've carried a body for thousands of miles, through multiple adventures and glorious PRs, and led the way to cherished friendships and a marriage. And aside from running, you were also obedient to ballet positions, soaring jumps and endless turns, showing your versatility to not only run miles, but dance.
It's understandable that you'd be a little worn out and battered. You've lived through enough adventures and experiences to make for a wonderful life so far. You helped me achieve goals I never imagined, and I'm thankful for that in more ways than one. In fact, you taught me to never give up or underestimate myself, and now I get to apply that same lesson to dealing with you. I will never underestimate you, despite how you look or how achey you feel. I know you're capable of so much.
