Next weekend, I will be attending my 15 year high school reunion. Yeah, I know, Internet - I look so fabulous that you can't believe it's not my five year. Anyway, as we are all aware, the point of attending one of these soirees is not to reconnect with old friends, to recall fond memories, or to hit the bar, so much as it is an opportunity to look absolutely freaking fabulous.
Running, of course, goes a long way in making that happen. Thanks to our favorite sport, I weigh just five pounds more than I did when I was sixteen. I bought a dress for the event that looks great on me. It's a halter style, showing off the strong shoulders that cross-training sessions in the pool have given me. Running has elmininated both my gut and my butt, so the fact that it's a jersey knit is not a big no-no. And it's short, showing off my runner legs (though not RSS short, thank Yoda).
But, as you pan down past the hem of my dress, you reach a problem. While the rest of my body is a runner's body, so, too, are my feet. And though I may wish it were so, the dress does not look good with running shoes or moon boots which might cover up my unsightly hooves. Alas, it calls for something that does, in fact, expose my feet.
I pretty much beat the hell out of my feet with running. They are callused, with hideous patches of dry skin that flake off in sheets. I keep my toenails cut ridiculously short, so as to keep them from turning black and falling off. My current shoes created a battle with blisters that I think I have, for the moment, won. Several of my toes are now old man toes, thick and yellow. There is a clear sock line, despite my careful application of sunscreen. The only good thing I can say is that, at least for the moment, I do not have athlete's foot. For the moment.
When reunion time comes, I am basically going to put a bow on the pig - that is, get a pedicure, paint my toenail stubs a shiny red, and hope that no one looks too closely at the wreck beneath the red paint.
But red paint or not, I am still me. The very first thing I'll tell the pedicurist will be, "Keep my calluses, please. I'm a runner."