Photo from stuymsa.com
It’s been 169 days since I walked like a normal person. That’s almost six months.
Then came Friday. I did not waddle like a duck or quasi limp. I walked. I tried it at physical therapy that morning. My right foot rolled up off my heel instead of planting itself flatly on the ground. Then the left foot moved in front of the right. And the right foot mimicked the left. I felt like a baby, finally standing upright and starting to find her way around. I certainly giggled like one.
A little later that day, I was able to walk across my mom’s front yard. And up the steps.
Baby steps. But without them, I would still be completely dependent on my metal legs.
To celebrate my progress and for a little extra motivation, I decided to scope out some running shoes.
It was magical. The attraction instant. The desire extraordinary.
It was like they were calling to me. Sparkling under the bright lights. Daring me to walk past their curves and bright colors.
I tried on a pair in hot pink.
My foot was wrapped snugly inside, supported and cushioned while I walked the few steps from the bench to the mirror. If they felt this great when I walked, surely they’d feel even better once i was able to run, right?
I did not give in to the temptation of buying these pink Nike Free Flyknit on the spot. But if you’re feeling generous, I wear a 6.5.