Yesterday's run was relatively strenuous and hard on my feet. I was running or walking over rocks by the lake-shore, over heather on the mountain slopes, picking my way across a felled forestry area on the lower slopes and then along the uneven surface of a minor road on the return. And pushing myself all the way as I had said I'd be back before 6pm.
Last night I suffered from leg cramps and sweating - almost as if I had a temperature. They say drinking pickle juice is good - pickle juice?! And this morning some stiffness whilst I repaired various small cuts on my feet. All par for the course. You don't get joy without a bit of suffering.
In church a visitor commented on my feet and, on hearing about my escapade, put his arm around me as if to offer consolation or condolence. But I don't run barefoot to gain prestige or sympathy - I do it because I want to and because it feels good. And I'll run again this afternoon, albeit not 10 miles.
Advice to would be barefoot runners - don't give up!
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