Best Foot Forward

I wake up each day with a leg that throbs.

(Stop snickering in the back there, you naughty boys!)

It's a dull ache. A lingering ache. It's the kind of ache that reminds you of something you've done not quite right.

It's like the morning after you moved some furniture. You know the feeling. You pulled, or stretched, or strained *something*.

It's an "owie".

My feet hit the floor (gently...) and I reach for my sock. It's a long sock. It's a knee sock. Sometimes it's polka-dot. Other times it's plain black or white.

I reach for my boot.

At this point in the narrative you're uncertain what image to conjure. "Boot". It could mean a lot of things. Is it a cowboy boot, crafted from exotic leathers and inscribed with patterned stitching? Is it a Doc Martin? Have I brought forward my adolescent punk years? Is it a Timberland? If so, is it a fashionista Timberland—all style and no substance? Or, is it a Timberland —a rugged, deeply dirt-encrusted symbol of a hard work ethic?

So many possibilities. So many images.

The mind's eye stalls. It blinks. What could it be? And how do I resolve the polka-dot sock?

I carefully insert my foot into the soft polyester cocoon. The hard shell surrounding the foam clunks against the wood floor. I pick up the plastic covering shell, insert it over my shin, and tear open the Velcro straps. Their ripping sound tears at my heart as I loop the straps, pull tight, and smooth the fabric down upon itself.

It's my orthopedic boot.

I hate it.

And so my day begins.

It's my reality—no longer new. It's a life of stormtrooper jokes. And pain. So much more pain than I'd expected: chronic hip, back and neck pain; intermittent hip flexor, knee, and calf pain; constant bruises from kicking myself with the shell.

And the psychic pain.

My head hurts.

I've been in this damned boot for five months.

How the hell did I get here?

I've written about it:

• Injuries Suck!
• Sunday Morning Call
• The Ride I Needed
• How Do You Deal With It?

But there's more to the story...