It was bound to happen. At some point.
But for me, the searing foot pain as I minced my way around the North Inch on the last walk/run was just a little bit too much to bear.
The days that followed weren't too great either.
However it was my "day job" that provided all the answers. Curating content for Run4It's social media campaigns meant a quick flick through their own blog archive where I came across an article on something called plantar fasciitis.
Bing!
The foot pain mystery was solved. Sort of.
"There!" I exclaimed to my husband, pointing at the diagram of the foot with the inflamed bit coloured in with red. "That's where my foot is sore! I must have plantar fasciitis."
"Don't be silly" said he. "That's a running injury and well, er, you haven't exactly been running...... for long......"
Hmmmmph. He had a point.
Actually, I've had this foot pain for that last seven years and thought.... now wait for it...... that it was caused by dehydration. Yes, plain old dehydration. A diagnosis that was sparked by a momentary conversation and inspection of said foot with a reflexologist at a conference in Glasgow some years ago:
"That's your kidneys, hen. Drink some water." she said.
And so I did.
My life is now vaguely reminiscent of that scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the Father is insistent that Windex cures everything.
How equally absurd that I thought that water would sort the foot out.
So, after a trip to a podiatrist, it turns out it's not my kidneys, it's my plantar. And not a very happy one at that. Some specialist insoles, a raft of stretching exercises and a medical excuse to make my husband massage my feet every night (I liked that bit best) and I'll hopefully be on the mend, so to speak.
My attempted running "career" is on hold for now, pending the return of as fully functional foot and instep.
The experts think it may all be over (in which case, cycling beckons) but I'm optimistic.
