Gruesome Shoesome

130 miles since April 9. And this is what your shoes look like after you walk 5(.6) miles in the rain, all the while oblivous that a teensy sliver of a toenail is hacking into the side of your next toe.

Well, I guess that's how it happened. I'm not altogether sure. Maybe that we were yakking our hearts out (that's a given), or perhaps being soaked to the undies distracted me. All I know is that I was shuh-OCKED to pull off my shoe and find a bloody red sock after Wednesday night's walk.

I got right about finding what must have been a heinous wound, and found: Nothing. Zilch. Zip. I sat down, and took off my glasses, and inspected every toe very closely. I unscrewed my foot from my leg and put it under a microscope. Not even a pinprick of blood! I spent a goodly amount of time searching before I called Dana to scream about it. Poor dear, having made it home and just getting out of a warm shower, she had to deal with me yelping "my sock is all bloody, but there's no wound!!"

What did I expect her to do? She was kind enough to humor me, suggesting places I might look. As if I'd lost my keys. "Look between your toes." "Is there still a sticker in your shoe?" (I'd bogged down the walk after yardwork last week, with sticker-bush stickers in my shoes.) Nope, that's not it.

Again, it occured to me, I'm making the girl stand around in a towel (don't you go picturing it!) and WHAT do I want her to do about it? I let her off the phone.

And, since I couldn't find a wound anywhere, and there was no particular toe that seemed irritated, every single one of my toes was in excruciating, psychosomatic pain the next day. OH, my poor toesies, they didn't know what was wrong with them, they only knew that they MUST be hurting, and they screamed bloody murder. 2nd day after, though, I discovered 3 visible boo-boo's, any one of which could have been the offending bleeder. Where did they come from? I have no ideer.

What did I do about it?

I went WALKING!! Oh yeah baby! Bring it on!

We are walk-jocks.