12.16.2008

saving my feet

Children's feet

Runners know that strong, healthy feet are critical to a positive running practice. We hear and read about thighs, backs, hamstrings and knees, knees, knees, yet no one talks much about feet.

Until there’s a problem. And I have a problem.

I have inherited an inefficient mechanical system in my feet. Simply put, my feet don’t work the way they are supposed to. This problem, coupled with the complete lack of arch to varying degrees in each foot, has brought bunions into my life. Hard, bony knobs that protrude from the joint of my big toe. That alone would be a problem – shoes don’t fit and any pressure causes a lot of pain – but the bone has caused my big toe to angle uncomfortably toward my smaller toes. It’s a problem I’ve seen coming for decades.

I know what adopting a “wait and see” attitude would bring: toes that eventually cross over or under each other in an attempt to find space while the bony bump grows larger and larger. Would I be able to fit into shoes in my 80s? Would I be able to walk? Would arthritis cripple me?

Four years ago I had surgery to correct the most aggressive of my two feet. It was long and hard. Eight weeks in a cast to my knee, followed by weeks of gradual recovery. I shudder when I think about it.

I wasn’t a runner then, so my recovery was more of an inconvenience than a life-changing event. I do know that my foot was stronger when I recovered. It saw me through hundreds of logged miles when I eventually did start running.

After I completed the Detroit Marathon relay in October, I had my second bunion surgery. People asked “You did it again?” I have two feet, I answer, with a chuckle. Thankfully, this foot was less deformed, and my swifter recovery is proof. Two weeks in a foot-only cast, followed by a month or so of non-weight bearing exercise to strengthen and heal before I can run again.

I guess it’s not strictly correct to say that I still have bunions. But to me, because my feet still work the same way as they always have, I risk regrowth. I don’t know how long that could take, but I’m willing to consider myself a “recovering bunion-oholic.” Like an alcoholic, I’ll never be truly free of the risk of relapse.

Now, well into my recovery, I feel wistful when I see a runner brave the Detroit December elements. I say “Oh! There’s a runner!” and my children pat my hand, as if to say “It’s OK, Mom.”

I’m discovering how much I depend on running to balance my life, soothe my mental health. A potentially devastating downturn in the economy crowds my thoughts, and when I’m not in motion, patiently allowing the thoughts to do their work and then leave my brain, scattered on the sidewalk like dried leaves behind my running feet, the thoughts linger. And grow larger.

Because the economy is affecting my working life, I find I’m struggling to figure out who I am and where I fit, as a stay-at-home mother whose children are at school all day, and a writer whose assignments have all but dried up.

Running for me is so much more than physical exercise. And I’m only now beginning to understand this. Running keeps me sane. So, for the last four weeks, I’ve been just under the sane radar. And it hurts.

Thankfully, the year is coming to an end. And so is my recovery. I feel a burst of something good and positive coming toward me, by way of my own internal control. Slowly, carefully, I’ll start running again.

And it will be like the first time.

I can’t wait.