The worst part about running is the blisters. I have blisters that have formed under previous blisters, giving one of my toes the appearance of a very young fetus, you know, when it's got a blobby head and all-dark eyes. I've got burst blisters that start oozing at bad times (like the dedication of the new Living War Memorial Park this morning while I was in sandals) and are bloody underneath.
Basically, I feel like one of those girls in the Young Adult novels about tweenies who want to be ballerinas and the main character takes a look at one of the older, more experienced girls' feet and they are reptilian and gnarled. I'm that girl but without the grace and tutu. Indeed, I feel weird running my little trotty, piston-like Shetland pony legs out in public.
Also, who woulda thought the first muscles to wear out when I run are the ones in my forearms. That makes no sense to me. But you can't really run with your arms dangling at your side. Or you could and say you were an Irish dancer, I guess.
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