Footsore

It's a bit petty to moan about sore feet, regardless of the fact we have little choice but to stand on them, walk on them, run on them, etc. If feet aren't foundational, I don't know what is. But, as I said, no one likes to hear someone moaning about their feet.

And, in my case, the situation is even sadder. It's not so much my feet as the toes on the end of them, and, more specifically the three toes in the middle of my left foot that I've come here to moan about. They've been sore for ages and I reckon they're going to stay that way. My feet are just too wide, to the point of looking deformed as The Missus has rightly pointed out, and they've been that way since I was a little lad, who needed a special fitting of shoes on account of this. But now, in age, the toes seem to be unnaturally rubbing against each other a lot of the time, especially if I'm walking at speed, and they're continually sore in an unpleasantly burning manner. 

Fortunately when I'm completely focused on something else - rushing to a classroom, keeping going on the elliptical trainer, shouting on the touchline - the pain fades, forgotten. But, unfortunately, it always comes back. Pretty glum, I suppose. Except for one saving detail. Pain that's peripheral, on the end of one's foot, can hurt like crazy, but it remains on the edge, almost as if it's an afterthought, something that doesn't quite belong to the body. In stark contrast, internal pain (I imagine, never, thankfully, having really suffered such except for the odd really bad aching stomach) is somehow at the centre of the self, powerfully destablising.

So, a bit of comfort there, cold in nature, but enough for now.