“Give me any chance; I know I can fuck it up!” — Me.
My plantar fascia has been throbbing since early May, and I have tried everything to ease the pain except a steroid injection to provide extended, temporary relief or to ACTUALLY rest my foot for more than a few days, even though I know I should.
A while back, I even wrote some self-love-type stuff that sounded like I had been on a late-night bender with my therapist. All of it was true, only I didn’t follow a word for more than 48 hours. Why? Because I’m an idiot.
But I have more idiocy, of course.
This late spring and summer, a six-mile lumber ranging from 6-6.30 miles, has become my regular “long hike.” I do that 2 to 3 times a week, along with some shorter ones thrown in along the way to get in my 25-mile weekly minimum.
With increased fitness came the want to avoid plateauing and to see how far I can push myself a year on from when I first attempted a 5-mile hike, destroyed my lower back, feet, and will to live after also hurting my shoulder at the gym. This caused me to shelve the “comeback” for another month until I got a list of injuries sorted out.
So, in the spirit of hating myself, and in celebration of being an idiot, on Monday, I did my longest lumber to date, doing a 7.5-miles at Deerfield in a nuggets hair over two hours! Despite the painful foot, I felt great, and I can’t wait to do it again and hopefully bag a 10-mile loop I’ve had my eye on for a couple of months now.
Hike, lumber, walk, call it what you want.
Having said that, my right foot was DESTROYED last night, and I was hobbling around gritting my teeth behind a broad smile on my face whilst self-medicating. Sure, I made things worse by rage hiking 7.5 miles with an inflamed plantar fascia but fuck it, I did it, and I’ll do it again gahdamnit.
Why? You guessed it, because I’m an idiot.
Later.