10K: OK or KO?
I’ve been nervous prior to runs and races before:
- My first 10-mile training run
- My first half marathon
- My first 20-mile training run
- My first full marathon
Yesterday, however, was the most apprehensive I’ve been before a run in a long long time.
And it was just a 10K recovery run.
THE FREAKY FOOT CHRONICLES: CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 2: “GOLDEN ARCHES”
A few weeks ago I wrote the first installment of the “Freaky Foot Chronicles” where I talked about my mildly mutant “foot digits” (aka toes).
Well, time to wax nostalgic about yet another of my maladies (one that several other runners I know share). The downside is it sucks. The upside is it’s a manageable condition that won’t prevent me from being a running fool for the next 40-50 years.
I’ve got high arches… really high arches. Not quite the St. Louis Arch arches or “McDonald’s arches” arches, but certainly higher than is considered normal.
THE FREAKY FOOT CHRONICLES: CHAPTER 1 (PART 1)
Ever since I started distance running back in the fall of 2008, I’ve come to the harsh realization that my feet are a bit of a mess. How big of a mess you may ask? Well, enough that I feel the need to break it down into chapters. Fortunately, they’re fairly tame… no rampaging fungi stories or pics, I promise.
So now that you know you won’t have to suppress the gag reflex, let’s talk about my feet.
CHAPTER 1: TOES- PART 1
(Yes, there will be two parts on this… kinda KILL BILL-like)
Toes. We’ve pretty much all got ‘em. Typically ten of ‘em. They aid us in traction, balance and help keep pedicurists gainfully employed. They feel like the less useful and less attractive cousins to our fingers. And other than stubbing your toe, which painfully reminds us they’re present, toes typically stay hidden in your shoes and fly under the radar.
For the most part, my toes are pretty typical. Five on each foot. My second toe is a hair longer than my big toe, which is not uncommon. There are stories that people with a slightly longer second toe have Celtic origins or descend from royalty. I’m cool with that. If Arthur can be hailed as King of Camelot by pulling a sword from a stone, why can’t my long toe at least earn me a knighthood?
But all is not well in the kingdom of Scott’s toes.