I sense that you’re feeling neglected lately. And you know what? You’re right. I owe you an apology.
I’m sorry that I’ve let your callouses get big and nasty again. I’m sorry that your heels are dry and cracking because I haven’t pumice-and-lotioned you lately. And I’m sorry that for the last two weeks I’ve talked about replacing your chipped toenail polish but haven’t actually done it.
Most of all — because this must be the real issue — I’m sorry that I haven’t given you the support you need. All summer, except for while we’re running, your wardrobe has exclusively consisted of flip-flops. I’ve made you spend entire days walking around town or a mall in those comfortable-but-bad-for-you shoes.
I’m sorry, foot. Please forgive me.
I know I’ve made mistakes, foot, and I promise to do better. But you’re not entirely innocent, either. Your behavior this morning was unacceptable. Yesterday was all about you. I iced you. I elevated you. I rolled you on a tennis ball and made J rub you. I stayed off you as much as possible, even though I went a little stir-crazy. We spent all day like this:
Obviously, you didn’t appreciate my efforts. Was it too little, too late? Apparently, because this morning you made me cut my scheduled 8-miles-with-strides down to 3.6 miles. Not cool, foot. Not cool.
So let’s make a deal. I’ll spend another day taking good care of you. I won’t make you go to yoga, where you’d have to spend a lot of time on your toes, supporting me in downward dog. I’ll ice you some more. I’ll roll you some more. Maybe I’ll even repaint your nails. In return, you act nice on my run tomorrow. Let me complete the whole thing without pain. Deal?
For the rest of the summer, I’ll wear real shoes more often so you have the support you need. You’re an important part of me, foot, and I promise I’ll start giving you the treatment you deserve.