So, at some point in my life (err…probably right now), I will have to come to terms with the fact that this
is not the same thing as this
I saw Liz this afternoon. We did some stuff. Then we did some more stuff. Then she yanked my foot around a little bit. Then she did some more stuff.
Then she told me that I need orthotics.
Orthotics.
Ummm…Orthotics.
Conjuring up weird visions of nerdy kids with retainers and glasses? Old ladies hobbling across the street with canes? Pee-Wee Herman?
Yeah…me too.
I’m not entirely comfortable with this concept. However, my desire need to jog is outweighing my irrational fear of orthotics. That desire need is even outweighing the $200 price tag for the orthotics.
I’m simultaneously mortified and happy. Mortified at the idea of needing orthotics, and happy with the idea of getting orthotics. Because they’ll feel good. Because they’ll help me run better. She asked me if I needed to think about it. I’m not that kind of girl. I act on a moments notice. I’m spontaneous. I’m spunky. I’m impulsive. I go back at 4:30 today to do a cast of my feet.
At this juncture, I really can’t decide if I’m more irritated about needing orthotics, or that I didn’t bring my camera to work, so now I can’t blog this experience!
Priorities…
