Here’s a crazy thing.
I think high heels might be killing me.
Let me explain.
For the past month or so, I’ve been having some problems when running – stiff hips, niggling knee problems, and tight calves.
I couldn’t understand what the heck was going on with me, as I have never, ever had any issues with my body – no matter how hard I’ve been training.
You name it – I can withstand it. I have been competing at a high performance level (whether it be dance, track, badminton, or volleyball) since I was seven years old and I have never once suffered a major injury.
Tough Mudder may have cut and bruised the ever-loving crap out of my arms and legs, but other than a day or two of (very natural) muscle stiffness and soreness, I emerged both times completely unscathed.
So when these aches and pains began to creep up on me, it really gave me pause.
At first I just chalked it up to an over-zealous pre-race weekend (40+ kilometers over three days) coupled by an ill-advised high-heel dance party at the Jungle concert the next day.
But even after my win at Boundary Bay, these zings and pings have not given way.
So I spent some time today thinking about what, if anything, has changed in my life over the past month or two to cause such a substantial shift in the way my body reacts to something that I have been doing for years and years.
And that’s when it hit me: for the first time in my entire life, I have been wearing high heels almost every day.
To work and for play.
And this gave me pause.
Is it really possible that changing my footwear for such a short period of time could be wrecking so much havoc with my hips and legs?
And the answer, I am truly apt to believe, is a resounding YES.
Which is actually crazy!
But listen to this:
On Friday I wore flats to work because I knew that I would be heading over to Marc’s high school to lead the improv club, and I tell you, spending just twenty-four hours with my feet firmly planted on the ground made a substantial difference in my run this morning.
My had absolutely no problems with my knees and only my right hip felt a little tight (and again, only at the tail end of a very fast eight kilometer run.)
I am curious to see what tomorrow will bring, as today I again shunned my heels, and opted instead to don a pair of flat boots instead.
But in the interim, I have to wax further on just how upset I am by this revelation.
Because I LOVE my heels!
I am enamoured by how pretty they all are, and how unbelievably tall I am in each pair, and how unstoppable and badass each pair makes me feel – like I could literally step over every obstacle that might have the audacity to get in my way.
I like how they make my legs look (about fifty miles long), and how weirdly proud I am of how well I can walk in each pair, no matter how high, or how skinny a heel.
I love my chunky black boots that I bought for forty dollars at Target, and wore so often the first week post-purchase that I had to re-glue the soles after only seven days.
I love my five dollar wedges, and my beautiful burgundy suede stilettos, and my cute plaid kitten heels.
I like how my husband doesn’t care that I am taller than him when I wear heels.
(I like how the only thing that concerns him about these shoes is how they may be impacting my health.)
I really do like (nay love!) everything about them.
But I am also so very wary about what exactly they may be doing long-term to my body, and when it comes down to it, I cherish my ability to run like the wind much, MUCH more than I do a sweet pair of shoes.
No matter how good my legs might look.
Because if I can’t run, they’re not going to look that good anyway.