normal

I've waxed poetic here a bit about pretty shoes and my new love affair with them.  But I should point out that my first love is still running shoes.  And by running shoes I do not mean the kind I loaf around in on days when I'm feeling sloppy.  I mean shoes made for running.

A few weeks ago I started to notice that my right foot was hurting in the arch when I ran, and this concerned me because I didn't know what it meant.  Was there something wrong with my gait, my posture, my knees, my back?  Who knows.  The everything-bone is connected to the everything-bone, particularly when you're running, and for some reason I dreaded the idea of becoming a Pronator.  Ever since I was fitted for my first pair of running shoes and the salesperson gave me a test, and pronounced me a non-pronator, I thought there was something pretty special about that.  But arch pain seemed to indicate pronation.

I bought new shoes (which I have noticed cures most pains).  I have obviously been attached to my old running shoes for too long because the difference is dramatic.  Not only is the pain gone, but my feet feel like they have springs again.  I'm a new person.

This afternoon I went running by J's stables which is one of my favourite places to run because the breeze blows in off the ocean and keeps it cool enough to run even when the rest of the world is hot.  In addition to the new shoes, I also purchased a new running bra.  So I was feeling pretty awesome.  Bouncy feet, and no bounce in the boobs, exactly the way it should be.

And a few strange things happened while I was running.

1.  I saw not one, but two dead mice lying on the pathway.  In different places, as though their murders were not connected.  But I think they were.

2.  A garter snake and I surprised one another as neither of us saw (or heard, because I'm so fantastically light in my new shoes) one another until we nearly collided.  Although I am not particularly frightened of snakes, he wound around my shoes and scared me into doing a little jig like Yosemite Sam when cowboys shot at his feet.

3.  And, as I was nearly finished running, a man on a bicycle rode up beside me and said, "Beautiful pace you run".  This was strange because I actually do not run a beautiful pace.  Although I felt like an Olympiad in my new gear, my pace is not impressive in the least.

I do not know what any of these things mean, but I'm writing down the clues in case there is a mystery to solve that I won't notice until later.




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