So the plan was to sit down this morning and write a enthusiastic post about how my life was changed by switching from one variety of sneakers to another after realizing that the mid-run pain in the outer bit of my leg was caused by wearing sneakers with more support than I need. I even took this picture yesterday of the new sneakers stomping upon the old sneakers, proving their superiority.
The plan was that my lovely 11 mile run yesterday would have cemented the fact that the shoes the running store and I spent hours (okay, probably 40 minutes) deciding were perfect for my absurdly large feet with a confused arch were, actually, what I should be running in.
I was going to write beautiful words of joy and delight about how wonderful it is when you have finally found the appropriate sneaker. I was going to draw charts showing things about what different kinds of support structures do to your leg when you run on them, and I was going to do research and it was going to be a lovely post, all in all.
Instead, I am sitting on my bed moving an icepack around my lower left leg every 20 minutes, and staring at my “new, perfect, blah blah blah” sneakers with rage. Rage. Once I mentally collect myself, I will be going back to my favorite running store, where, once again, I will exchange shoes that I ran 15-20 miles in for another pair of new shoes which, fingers crossed, will do the trick.
Life Lived Healthfully 