Before I went to sleep Thursday night I noticed a slight burning irritation on the ball of my right middle toe. It hurt like two motherfuckers when I stepped out of bed Friday morning, certainly too much to consider walking or jogging. I thought it might have been a blister. Last night I went for a very slow walk on the Levy Trail, but pain forced me back inside after a little more than ten minutes. At last I visually examined the source of the pain, using a hand mirror and flashlight, and saw what looked like a blister* that had burst. It was tear-drop shaped. The Internet suggested I first soak it in hot water and Epsom salt, and then apply bacitracin zinc and a homemade bandage, which I did. This morning it felt much, much better. Early this afternoon I walked to the edge of the sore spot's comfort zone to complete the Levy Trail Loop in 36:41. I might try to walk again this evening. We'll see.
Here's what's really crazy. At 3:07 p.m., it's only 93°F, but the heat index is 109.
My foot felt even better as I walked the 38th Street Loop this evening. I'm confident it will soon be completely healed. I walked in a moment ago, at about 7:26 p.m.. It's now 90 with a heat index of 100, and I feel much better now about a day trip to Camp Clearfork.
*I theorize that the sore was never a blister, since I think I would've been aware of it before it burst. What I think happened is that one or more of Phil Knight's minions read my Pam's Boy post about the $19.95 running shoes and sent someone to break into my house to put something in my right shoe before I walked Thursday night. Whatever it was caused the sore, which they hoped would encourage me to buy a pair of their $150 shoes
OVERHEARD
"This guy was at the Class A level just three weeks ago, so now essentially he's out there pitching against baseball cards."
—Arizona Diamondbacks announcer talking about a pitcher in his first big-league game, pitching against the Reds
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