My grandma always had the perfect way to stop us from complaining: guilt. We’d go out for a walk in the park, I’d complain that my feet were tired, and she’d tell us that we might not have been born with feet. I’d say that I was hungry, and grandma would say that was a psychosomatic response to a lack of nutrients, and that it meant that our brains were working properly, and we could have been born with brains that made us hungry when we actually didn’t need it, and then we’d become incredibly overweight and we wouldn’t be able to run the Cardiff marathon and wow, that’s really specific. I think my grandma is still really bitter about the nail fungal infection that stopped her from running the Cardiff Marathon back in the 1960s, causing her to be defeated (ha) by her rival and retreat to Australia in shame. She goes on about it a lot.
To be honest, that’s probably the main reason she keeps going on about feet, and foot health. You get one bout of fungal nail syndrome, you remember it forever. You put pictures of it in the family album and make your grandkids look at it every time, while you darkly tell them that this is what happens when you don’t see a podiatrist before training for a big marathon.
But podiatrists are better now, right? We know a lot more, a shoe technology has taken off like…crazy. You can get orthotics now, and shoes with gel in the soles that are specifically for marathon runners. We’ve come a long way, and I wish grandma would see it so that she can stop showing us those photos. Onychomycosis and toenail fungus are very important things to avoid, but we got the general gist the third or fourth time the photo albums came out. We really need to get grandma some fancy orthotics for Christmas…