I’m feeling very encouraged health-wise. After wearing the same loose-fitting cowskin boots and driving/bussing everywhere for three weeks, the inflammation in my right heel has subsided significantly and I’m planning to begin walking to work on Monday. Which means I’ll be getting the exercise I’d been counting on for the Shiny New You 1/3 Year Challenge. Watch out! The Nyco train is a-rollin’ once again!

You would think that the “convenience” of having a car would mean less stress than planning ahead to make a walk somewhere, but I beg to differ. The key word is planning. When I’m not relying on Nitrobob to take me to the office by 9am each morning, I wake up earlier and am more conscious of using my time wisely. I don’t push the clock either. In other words, there is no option to get behind the wheel and speed across the river at 8:50am.

In fairness, there probably isn’t any way these past two weeks could have happened without the car. There was Lunch 2.0 to shop for, which involved buying 25 two-liter sodas and returning the heavy catering equipment. Jed and I had the pleasure of spending evenings with Kim, Jason, and Rachel Vinson this past week, and because of the chill it made sense to drive for our dinners out. With Nitrobob around, our visitors didn’t have to pay for a rental to take them out to the Gorge. Doctor’s appointments, equipment shopping, picking up food for office meals… The car did it all. It’s breaktime, though.

Even if there is a bit of a surge to get out the door, the ~45min walk is plenty of time to de-stress and think about the day ahead. I miss that time. I need that time. Tomorrow I will get it back, thank goodness.

So I’ve been walking to and from the office (2.2 miles one way) Mon-Fri for about four weeks and the health benefits have been amazing. My blood pressure is at a new low of 98/64, my resting heart rate is 65 bpm, and I’ve lost over 5 lbs. That’s all great news, right?!

Ready for the bad news?

Yesterday a doctor diagnosed me with retrocalcaneal bursitis in my right foot.

You’re probably like, “What the hell is that?” Well, if you haven’t clicked the above link because you’re all enthralled in my story, here’s my first-hand description (one, so I can whine and two, so you know for like, reference and stuff):

On the back of my right ankle, at that top of the knobby bone that attaches to the heel, there is a white hot ball of fire that ignites whenever I put a shoe on. It’s the pressure of the shoe that causes 99.99% of the pain. When I’m shoeless, I’m fine. When stand on my tiptoes in bare feet, I’m fine. When I thump the sides of that knobby bone it doesn’t hurt. When I jump up and down it doesn’t hurt. BUT. Put on a pair of shoes and I’m like, dude, kill me now.

Know how I got it? New flats that hadn’t been broken in yet. Sure a little discomfort is easy to ignore when you’re toodling around, but walking over four miles in them was my undoing.

It’s not a quick fix, either. For two weeks I have to wear extra heel support in both shoes (and forget the cute ones for now), pop 800 mg of ibuprofen three times a day to battle the inflammation, ice my heel at night, stretch often to keep the tendon from becoming taut, and and cut down on the walking. That last one is the toughest for me to swallow.

Call me limpy. Call me gimpy. Call me dummy. If there’s a lesson to be learned, it’s don’t take your body for granted. In the back of my head I knew it was a bad idea to wear those damned shoes, but I thought the worst that could happen was a gnarly blister and an ache that would go away overnight. Now I’ve got a legitimate injury that, if I don’t follow doctor’s orders, could cost me an achilles tendon and make my favorite passtime, walking, a much less carefree experience.

Fashion is fun and all. But it’s not worth wrecking your feet. Or the embarrasment of having to take your shoes off in a doctor’s office after you’ve been wearing them for eight hours. Just sayin’.

Yesterday I walked 5 miles. I didn’t do it for the exercise; rather, I chose to travel to a coffee shop in Southeast Portland on foot because I wanted the time to think and be by myself. Life is so full of information, of stimuli, of reasons to talk or be talked to. A walk is an opportunity to control, or just to make sense of, all of that.

I’ve heard a few people say that they do their best thinking while driving, and I too have had my share of epiphanies behind the wheel. Just ask my mom. She usually fields my phone call after a realization smacks me in the head. But, driving in the city is the opposite of soothing; and driving without purpose isn’t exactly the “it” thing to do nowadays. Plus! Driving isn’t free, walking is.

Aside from the opportunity to let the mental wheels turn and save a little coin, walking let’s me observe more. Until I walked 50 blocks worth of Burnside Street, a stretch I would normally opt to drive or bus, I had no idea how interesting it was. I had time to stop and look in shop windows; to pause and take pictures of interesting scenes. All of that stuff goes whizzing by while taking motorized transportation.

Finally, I find walking to be my favorite pastime because it gives me a reason to be alone, to move at my own will and whim. That may be a counter-intuitive statement, given the fact that my stomping ground is a trafficky city brimming with cars, buses, trains, tractors, pedestrians, cyclists, homeless people, and all. But consider this: When walking, a person is in charge of her/himself and no one else. While operating a vehicle of any kind they become part of a system, and their actions and the actions of others are interdependent. Take that same person and put them on a sidewalk with nothing but their feet to move them and suddenly they’re free to choose their velocity, stopping points, routes, and most importantly whether or not they make an effort to interract with anyone.

Safety isn’t a concern. Portland is a relatively crime-free city, and as long as I don’t go poking around dark places and watch for idiots I’m perfectly out of harms way. Besides, if walking around Portland is the most dangerous thing I do… Well, you get the point. Worry and stress kills more people than going it on foot ever will.