I’ve had the most physically challenging couple of days. After a mammoth walk around York yesterday I found I was painfully lame last night and thought I’d have to rethink doing anything involving moving on two feet today. I couldn’t even stretch my body out during the night, because the stretch reaching my foot spasmed with serious warning bells. This morning I could make it to the bathroom (thankfully) and my supersoft insole trainers came out to play. If I could manage to oil and loosen my foot for ten minutes, going through pain barriers, there was a chance I could keep going. I needed to do this. I wasn’t prepared to have my life ruled by the pain I was experiencing. Ten minutes came and went, walking along the fort wall smiling at the daffodils with Simon cheering me on. Then, I was off, managing another 8km with the help of those soft squishy insoles below my feet (cloud of boobs I like to call them 😊). This is my reality at the moment. I don’t have the choice to wear pretty dainty shoes. Or heels. Or flipflops. It’s a miracle I can walk at all. It’s good to read this and remember to be grateful for your lovely feet. I am. They’ve got me this far.