I wanted to take this time to apologize to my feet. I’m sorry that I made you get me out of bed at 6:15am on a Saturday. I’m sorry that I’ve submitted you so so much torture over the past 15 weeks, and I’m sorry about this morning. I know that you had no way of knowing that I would abuse you for 13 miles this morning. It was not my intention to hurt you, only to challenge you. You see, two feet of mine; some don’t have two feet as great as you. I know that you’ve always been here for me, and I want you to know that I’ll still take care of you. I’ve been mostly kind to you over the past 32 years, haven’t I? There is even an rumor that you once were party to a masculine pedicure. I always wear shoes, and I never let the gunk stay between your toes for longer than a few hours. I even wear flip-flops in funky campground showers!
So please bear with me this weekend, and don’t take it personally. I’ll be sure and give you a good soak this afternoon, and try to get some more comfortable running shoes if we continue. And while I’m at it, would you go ahead and tell my knees and hips that I’m sorry as well?