My Little Baby, and Guitar Strings

Last time I saw someone with plantar fasciitis this bad, I had them leave with a cast on one leg and a walking cast on the other, the Orthopedic Clinic told me at the time.

So if I were not going to hike the Colorado Trail, you’d cast me?

Yes, she said. That would be my recommendation. Chances of you rupturing at least one fascia while you’re out there on trail are 50/50. Just be mindful of your exit points in case you need to evacuate.

But they knew I was going to hike the Colorado Trail. And they knew there wasn’t any room for negotiation. So they gave me cortisone shots and asked me to stay in bed for a week and do a bunch of stretching exercises.

I started walking again 3 days before I left for Denver.

And my feet are in hellish pain. I brought a band which I use to stretch out my legs while on breaks and a golf ball that I use to roll out my feet. I call it My Little Baby. They feel like there are Guitar Strings strung too tight on the underside of my feet. There is a thick band of swelling so large, it casts its own shadow when I turn my foot sideways in the sun.

Sometimes, it takes me an embarrassing amount of time to stand up. I wobble around on these old feet of mine, trying to muster enough mental toughness to keep putting weight on them instead of collapsing into a puddle of tears. Because what good would that do me?

The pain takes my breath away. The pain oozes deep into my bones and makes them ache in a powerful way that I can only describe as exquisite. And nothing really makes them better. I take my ibuprofen and my tylenol. I’m taking a medrol steroid pack. And every day, I get better at mentally compartmentalizing the pain until it’s just an expected part of walking. When you walk, you will feel this amount of agony.

That’s what walking is. Agony. So, cope.