adaptable achilles

So this is what Achilles tendonitis looks like.

When I overuse (or misuse) the poor thing, it swells up. It's not the grating pain like I had when it flared with a vengeance about six months ago, but because I've been running Duke trails instead of a nice and even treadmill (surprise! our ghetto apartment complex has TWO busted up treadmills), the up and down has caused Achilles to throw a small tantrum. So shoes like this hit in just the right place to be rather uncomfortable. And because flip flops aren't exactly part of the dress code at work, I've adapted my footwear to accomodate my angry little tendon.

Now the real (mythological) Achilles was pretty much indestructible, except of course for his heel. (Naturally. Huh?!) One arrow to the heel, and he was a goner. And so the legend goes that our metaphorical weakness is termed our "Achilles heel." Now I find it rather annoying (and obnoxiously ironic) having a literal physical weakness that is my Achilles heel.

And if you're obssessed with running (as I will self-admittedly proclaim), it's par-tick-you-lar-lee ironic, as your fitness regimen can be literally wiped out by one itty bitty weak tendon. Dang Achilles.

But I'm determined to make weak things strong. I've adapted my footwear, I've adapted my exercise regimen ("Hello stationary bike, it's good to see you again," not really, but I'm just trying to be nice) and I'm avoiding people who regularly carry arrows.

You should too. Because that's just weird.