This morning, I picked up my custom orthotics. At lunch, I shall try them out for the first time.
And I am excited.
Yes, excited.
What a difference 3 weeks, and 2 laps around the PT track can do, no?
When Liz took them out of the package, I was still in denial. I still hated them. In fact, prior to stuffing them into my Mizunos, I was horrified by the very sight of them.
Ugh. Gross!
AREN’T THEY HIDEOUS?
Yes, yes. They’re bright blue, and they’re thick as I don’t know what. I wanted to throw them on the ground and stomp on them because they were so ugly and…ugly. And orthotic-y. I had 3 weeks to build up this frighteningly unhealthy, extreme hatred for my poor orthotics.
Then I stuffed the ugly things in my runners. Crammed my wide, (baby) bunion-infested foot into my Mizuno. Tied the laces.
And then, the heavens parted.
I saw Jesus himself.
And he was wearing orthotics too.
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