This is what happens when John is away

I start abusing the digital camera by taking pictures of the blisters bad shoes leave behind.



This blister is not from my new running shoes. This I got after walking to Loblaws (about 0.85 km away) and back in canvas Keds flats last week. I don't remember them ever cutting this deep, but when the skin peeled away after the blister broke, other shoes started cutting a groove into the soft flesh in the back of my ankle. Think Achilles' Heel. It really hurts.

What makes this picture really funny: I pulled a muscle in my side while trying to get this shot. Fun times.

These Shoes Aren't Made for Walking

Me out having dinner with two close friends, both of whom are avid runners:

Me: Yeah, so I'm thinking about getting new shoes for the 30k walk in September.
Friend 1: Don't you already have a pair?
Me: Yeah, but when I walk in them, my feet get really, really hot, after, like, 1 km. And when I take them off afterward, steam comes out of my shoes.
Friend 1: That' not good. But it'll take some time to break in new shoes.
Me: I know. The ones I have are pretty comfy. I mean, I put in two pairs of insoles inside them...
Friend 1: O_o WHY would you do that???
Me: Cuz' I don't have enough bounce in my step. And I felt like I was leaning backwards all the time.
Friend 2: That's not right. Those shoes aren't right. You're not supposed to do that.
Me: ...Yeah...well...I guess...

You'd think that, having worked at Foot Locker, I would have clued into the whole these-shoes-aren't-good-for-running thing. I actually have another pair of running shoes from those old days which I wear at work, but they're boys' size 6--about half a size too large and not great for long- distance anything. They're great for standing in, and for short jaunts, and they're damn snazzy; but not so good for much else.

So I went out today and bought new shoes. Nothing fancy--these New Balance WT460GPs were on sale ($59.99), and they fit. I've never been one to spend a lot on running shoes. The sales guy told me off the bat to put the Nikes down, despite my long-standing success with them for comfort, since I was doing a long-distance walk. As it is, these seem to be comfy enough, and give me the necessary support on the outer edge of my feet since I tend to supinate. I'm testing them around the house as I write this.

I also splurged on some fancy double-layer anti-blister socks (no, not the rainbow ones in the picture, though wouldn't THOSE be AWESOME?) as recommended by many of my colleagues who have done the 60k walk before. Interestingly, the sports shop had a pair that cost $1 extra and had a pink ribbon on them. I didn't buy those. I'm going to be surrounded by enough pink that day (it was unavoidable with my shoes). No need to remind myself why I'm doing this with socks.

On the fund-raising front, little sister Jenny has informed me that my cousin Kan is brining in a whole bunch of clean, still-in-good-condition garbage cans that her company is getting rid of for some reason. They're going to sell them at the hardware store (CAAM United Hardware, 160 Augusta Ave. in Kensington Market, celebrating 25 years in business!) and donate the proceeds directly to my campaign.

I asked her to give the project a classy, marketable name like Trash for Titties, or Cans for Cans.

Okay, maybe not.

More details to come!

I have my health...

...and it was a beautiful, warm fall day, and I needed the exercise...

BUT BLASPHEME IT, walking 6.5 km from Lawrence Station to Bloor Street in just over an hour because the subways weren't running nearly killed me.

Thank the gods of footwear I was wearing my really comfy German shoes and fancy insoles, or else I would have been limping bloodily home. One girl at Eglinton and Yonge asked the hot dog vendor I was buying a drink from how long it would take to walk to Bloor. "In those shoes?" I asked incredulously, looking at her shiny kitten-heeled gold sandals that looked like they would last to about St. Clair before they turned her feet into shredded jerky. "Good luck. It'll be at least an hour, if you had comfy footwear. You might wanna get some now."

There were others in worse straits I saw on my long trek south: Elderly couples, pregnant women, a lady with a cast and crutches, all stranded because they had no way to get home. And it wasn't just the TTC and their inadequate shuttle buses that barred them from traveling--the sheer volume of traffic and the number of people on the streets made calling for a taxi a ridiculous notion.

And then, as I often do during commuter crises like this when we all realized we're screwed together, I had this crazy idea.

What if every single driver on the road opened their vehicles to two or three pedestrians headed their way? What would it cost them? Sure, you can say whatever you want about that being unsafe, being an invitation to a mugging, etc. But all I could think was, how many people would stop if I put up a sign on a curb that said: Earn Karma Points! Be a Good Samaritan and take a passenger! or Bloor Street or Bust: Will Make Conversation.

Shoooooooooes!!!

I just bought the two pairs of ballet flats in the lower right hand corner over the weekend at the Payless Shoes BOGO sale, wondering all the while if I really needed more shoes.

So when I got home, I took all my shoes out and snapped this shot. There are 22 pairs of shoes there, for those of you trying to count. 24 if you count the running shoes I have stashed at work and my house slippers.

I've always considered my shoe fetish to be rather tame compared to others' I know, men included. I try to vary my styles but keep them consistently timeless and fashionable, as well as comfortable.

The question is, do I have enough shoes now? Am I woman enough?

The answer to both those questions is a resounding NO: not until I have handbags to match.