I will not be packing ALL of these…. At least I don’t think I will be…

6 1/2 or maybe a 7.  I can squeeze into a 5 1/2 if they are 90% off and  designer.  I can walk with my toes splayed apart like a ducks feet in a 7 1/2-8 if they are 75% off and adorable. (The smaller the shoe- the greater the pain. Hence the dependence on the deal to determine their worthiness of my foot sacrifice.)

To say I have shoe issues would be putting it mildly. I usually blame it on the fact that shoes fit , no matter what day of the month it is. (Clothes do not. Trust me.) I’m ashamed to even post the number of pair of she’s that I own. (I’ve never counted them.  Nor will I. I will, however, be making a large donation of very gently used shoes tomorrow- because seriously- I have too many and thinking about my shoe hoarding is making me think of all the people who duct tape plastic bottles to their feet because they have none.  Not that a pair of silver pumps I’ve worn twice will help them, but at least i won’t have to see my guilt reflected in them anymore- but, I digress. I digress a lot. Consider yourself warned.)

Is there a TLC show about shoe hoarding? I hope not. Someone may nominate me. Please don’t. I’m working on it. No, really! I can quit any time. (See what I mean? Shoe issues: I has them.Classic.)

The truth is: even with my admitted shoe hoard- I spent last night browsing shoe shops online. MOPS convention is next week and I haven’t decided what shoes to pack.  Convention- requires a lot of walking so I will need something comfy. It also will afford me a few hours by the pool so I’ll need something pool appropriate. I’ll be doing double duty as a Board Member and a Field Leader- and those each have their own unique needs. I also signed up for Mom Prom…and have to have the right statement shoes for that- too.I may have shopped in person too. (Found: nada. I already have several potential pair lined up in the foyer.)

I might need an extra suitcase. Or shoecase, to be more accurate. Ugh.

I blame Cinderella.

Every time I pry (or slip) my feet into a new pair of shoes I wonder (more…)

“Slap, Slap, slap, flap, flap, pinch, squeeze, groan.”

The sound of me, woggling. (To woggle: a verb that describes my: walk/run/wobble exercise technique.) It’s not pretty.  I woggle like a hippo crosses a bed of  hot coals. But, as many have pointed out: I’m doing it. One step, one block one mile, at a time, I’m heading toward heath.

This morning, that journey took me in a direction I wasn’t expecting.  My shins were hurting so much that no amount of stretching, or gait manipulation helped.  I started out with them wrapped- hoping the compression would keep the inflammation down. It didn’t. Around mile 2 I unwrapped them. By mile 4, my gait was so impaired, that other things started hurting.  The balls of my feet felt a little numb.   I felt less than stable in the knees.  All I could think was: I need to get these (very expensive and professionally chosen) shoes off my feet.

Walking barefoot, sounded amazing. Slightly risky and crazy.. but amazing.

So, I took off my shoes and flung them over my shoulder. “Ahhhhhhhh.” My toes uncurled and my feet and lower legs relaxed.

The first few steps were tentative.  I pawed at the ground gingerly, as if it would reach up and grab me by the ankles and pull me down toward my unprotected doom.  It didn’t. Actually, it felt pretty good. Good enough to move to the grass and run a bit. (Yes, barefoot. I’m a risk taker.) While running, I flashed back to being a kid.. I remembered running in the dew-damp grass without ever tiring or feeling sore the next day. I remembered feeling wind in my face while I ran and thinking it was good to be fast.

“CLUNK. POUND. POUND. PAIN.” I hit a driveway. Ouch.  I moved back over to the grass. “Ahhhhh, so much  better.” Every once in a while I hit a wet spot in the grass.. the cool water and grass combination felt wonderful. It was a free foot spa.

I’d forgotten how wonderful it is to run barefoot. (more…)