Yesterday was the last day of my self-allowed pity party. To mark the passing of said pity party I went out with a friend to drink some more. I decided that I would get a little gussied up. To me this means a shirt that is not a t-shirt (button up, brown in this case) and heels. Jeans are a given, this was not a skirt occasion. So I wore heels. Orange heels*. Pretty orange heels. Painful orange heels. I currently have one blister the size of a quarter on the ball of EACH foot. Plus one that covers the entirety of my second toe on the right foot and a tiny one on the side of my big toe on the other foot. Right now I do not walk so good.
* If it isn't obvious I like the color orange. A lot. I even bought orange sheets.
All in all I walked 8 miles yesterday, maybe even a little more. No, all eight were not walked in the heels. Rather a pair of orange Merrels (told ya I liked orange). And about seven the day before yesterday. Today I will be lucky if I walk one. I want to get back in the habit of walking between five and ten miles a day. Every day. Except in the rain. That and bike riding again. Every weekday. I learned last year that it is damn near impossible to ride in Lincoln Park or on the lake paths on a weekend. The paths are packed. Usually with incredibly inconsiderate walkers, rollerbladers, and the "mommy brigade". I ride early (for me anyway) weekday mornings when it's not raining or too windy. The bike is a steel-framed mountain bike and I would swear it weighs nearly 40 pounds, I can barely make it move in the wind.
--Little Bird is limping