I had to stop running three months ago because my feet were hurting – plantar fasciitis in one and an inflamed neuroma in the other. “Geeze…this sucks! I’m getting old” was my first thought. My grandmother, who lived to be 90, complained about her feet hurting. “Ohmigosh, is this going to be my next 30 years?!” I immediately began a variety of home remedies – ice, splint, calf stretches – but as none of these returned an immediate benefit (patience is not my strength), I despaired. I bought orthopedic flip flops (yes, there really is such a thing) and they became my favorite “shoes.” But quite simply, the everyday, low-grade pain and interference with my activity level was making me crabby.
So I found a podiatrist, a cute podiatrist I might add. And one of the first things he said was, “This is not old age – this is an over-use injury!” I would have hugged him if he weren’t down at my feet. Thirty minutes later I walked out with an aircast, a splint, a prescription for physical therapy, confidence that I will run again, and a reminder about assumptions.
At this stage of life,, it seems a little too easy to blame odd things on aging – usually with a figurative shrug of the shoulders like it must be accepted. Just because I’m getting older, I shouldn’t assume anything – like I did with my feet.
So I found a podiatrist, a cute podiatrist I might add. And one of the first things he said was, “This is not old age – this is an over-use injury!” I would have hugged him if he weren’t down at my feet. Thirty minutes later I walked out with an aircast, a splint, a prescription for physical therapy, confidence that I will run again, and a reminder about assumptions.
At this stage of life,, it seems a little too easy to blame odd things on aging – usually with a figurative shrug of the shoulders like it must be accepted. Just because I’m getting older, I shouldn’t assume anything – like I did with my feet.