It's perplexing to me that I still feel completely fine after having run 15 miles yesterday. If I hadn't run it myself, I wouldn't believe it were true. Maybe my recovery was aided by having walked a lot last night? Or because I ate protein before, and got enough rest, didn't drink and fueled throughout? I just can't explain it.
Today I went out to support a friend who was running a race in the Park. The start was on the East Side and the minute I entered on the West Side, I felt compelled to break into a jog! Only one problem. I hadn't worn running clothes and I was carrying a pocketbook and wearing my 3/4 length down jacket! I'm sure I looked like a loon, but it felt so good to be moving fast. The only accessory I really missed was the jog bra! I ran with my arms folded over my chest, pocketbook dangling. (See: "looked like a loon.")
After the race I made time to get a pedicure, something I was pretty desperate for because while the rest of me was feeling dandy, my feet have become unrecognizable with callouses and blisters. I opted for the works, which I never do, and the poor Korean lady selected to do the job took to my stumps with every possible tool and potion. First there was the nail clipping and filing, then soaking, then the razor, which shaved off piles of skin. Next came the pumice, and sea salt, followed by liquid acid and a cello wrap, and finally... the blessed lotion. Everything burned - even the lotion by the time it was applied to my soft, red puppies.
I tried not to look down during the heat of the dirty work - instead using the time to call everybody back and catch up on all the magazines I'm too embarrassed to get a subscription to, but would really be quite happy to read morning to night. When it was all over, and the polish was on, the results were amazing. Kind of like how dead people look at an open casket funeral. Same basic shape you remember - but the coloring is off and they have a funny look about them that speaks of recent trauma.
I'm not sure my feet will ever look the way they did before I started all this, when strangers would compliment them in elevators, and men with a few too many drinks behind them would drop to their knees and give them an unsolicited lick (bad boy, Sonny!). But it's good to know I can still prop them up and put a bow on them if I have to. Might be a little like putting lipstick on a pig, but with Guchi Muchi Puchi, it's at least a pretty, pink lipstick.
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