After running the 2014 Honolulu Marathon in very old running shoes (the same ones I trained and ran in the previous year), I developed a pain in my heel that made walking across the laminate floor a daily trudge through the sixth ring of hell: only instead of heretics trapped in flaming tombs, it was my left foot. My dad (who is not a physician) diagnosed me with plantar fasciitis. My physician, with somewhat less certainty said, it sounds like plantar fasciitis, so let's treat it like that and see what happens.
Naturally I did none of the exercises she suggested, and continued with my self-prescribed treatment of really really hoping it would just go away. As one might expect, this did not lead to any noticeable change in the sensation of walking on a bed of red hot needles dipped in sriracha every morning. It did lead to the purchase of several pairs of Crocs. I have indoor Crocs, outdoor Crocs, Crocs for teaching all day, and flip flop Crocs. Don't worry, the Crocs I wear in public look like Toms or Vans. Despite the pain, I tried to maintain some sense of dignity.
The pain was worrisome. How could I train for a big running goal if the day after running I hobbled, barely able to support my own weight with that feeble foot? Would training further shred that poor, stressed strip of fascia? Why was my body betraying me when I had such noble goals for us? Why do I have to be so damn human? The thought of further damaging my foot loomed every time I thought about training. No longer just a nifty appendage at the end of a limb, my foot was a fully-formed saboteur.
We named him PF Chang. PF for plantar fasciitis, and just like the restaurant, I am somewhat Asian, so the Chang seemed appropriate. (Yes, my foot is a dude, because, hello? in systems of patriarchy, who sabotages women? Dudes.)
Naming my foot not only made me laugh, it also helped me build a relationship with this blob of inflamed tissue emerging from my ankle. I started noticing patterns to the pain. It was worst after running. Wearing exclusively Crocs for the rest of the day immediately after running significantly decreased the next's morning's pain. Walking at least a quarter mile in those Crocs after running reduced the pain even more. The more downward dogs I did, the less I winced when I walked the next day. And miraculously, the more I ran, cross-trained, and stretched, the more PF Chang improved. I've had more wince-free mornings in the past month than I've had in the past year and a half.
PF Chang isn't gone forever. In fact, after a couple weeks of exercise coming second to the 15 million commitments I have this semester, my old buddy has been vying for more attention. And like a neglected middle schooler, those appeals for attention are disruptive, painful, and inappropriate. While my first instinct may be to yell "Dude, shut up!" I will appeal to my better self and use my cache of tools to productively and humanely attend to PF's needs, while still holding him accountable, because being my foot is a major responsibility.
Naturally I did none of the exercises she suggested, and continued with my self-prescribed treatment of really really hoping it would just go away. As one might expect, this did not lead to any noticeable change in the sensation of walking on a bed of red hot needles dipped in sriracha every morning. It did lead to the purchase of several pairs of Crocs. I have indoor Crocs, outdoor Crocs, Crocs for teaching all day, and flip flop Crocs. Don't worry, the Crocs I wear in public look like Toms or Vans. Despite the pain, I tried to maintain some sense of dignity.
We named him PF Chang. PF for plantar fasciitis, and just like the restaurant, I am somewhat Asian, so the Chang seemed appropriate. (Yes, my foot is a dude, because, hello? in systems of patriarchy, who sabotages women? Dudes.)
Naming my foot not only made me laugh, it also helped me build a relationship with this blob of inflamed tissue emerging from my ankle. I started noticing patterns to the pain. It was worst after running. Wearing exclusively Crocs for the rest of the day immediately after running significantly decreased the next's morning's pain. Walking at least a quarter mile in those Crocs after running reduced the pain even more. The more downward dogs I did, the less I winced when I walked the next day. And miraculously, the more I ran, cross-trained, and stretched, the more PF Chang improved. I've had more wince-free mornings in the past month than I've had in the past year and a half.
