Flat shoes, good ankles, places to walk

New shoe Tuesday as another (older) pair moved from the walking category to the gardening category. I have two pair of snow boots: one a muck boot type, every weather, quick slip-on as needed and one a going to town boot. It is funny to say, going to town when you live in a very towny suburb on a cul-de-sac, but we grew up (for the most part) “going to town”.  Once when I had called Lawson Inada about coming to Klamath Falls for a reading, I mentioned I was going to town that day and we had a quick discussion on that particular saying. He asked if it was a hold over from Joseph and I said yes, but we do live outside of town so if you’re going in, you’re going to town, we laughed over it. He has the most wonderful laugh. 

But I’m talking about shoes. I have a pair of slip-on shoes that live in the basement, these are the emergency shoes so that I always have "shoes in the basement". Something needed in tornado prone country. Then I have two pair of shoes that are for everything else; by the back door I have a pair of flip-flops for quick trips in and out. I have more slippers than shoes. Truth be told I did just recently break down and throw out two pair that were wrecked: torn, nearly tread-less and fairly dirty from all the miles put on them before they shifted to yard shoes. I got my money’s worth. And yet I still felt I should have kept them longer – if I still had a river to swim in, they’d be perfect river shoes. Enough to protect your feet on the way down (to the river), no need to worry if they got wet and then quick drying; here, they were spider condos.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with chronic tendonitis in both ankles. My podiatrist took X-rays, made a mold of my feet and I had inserts made to help alleviate the strain and pain. He also said “Never ever wear high heels again.” Which made me laugh because I hadn’t in years. And, so, I trundled about on sore ankles for a few years. The inserts helped. I learned to warm my ankles up before stepping out of bed, to take those first few steps carefully and to keep good flat-ish shoes handy. My tendons were even bowed out, it reminded me of something I’d read about racehorses with bowed tendons, like them I was never racing again. And then, in year three, in Belgium, I noticed that the pain was nearly gone. The knotty tendons and bow was, almost, gone. I blame the cobblestones and the steep up and down around Mons. The miles and miles of walking we did across Europe, the good inexpensive sitting in parks, the sloth pace through museums, the wandering along old alleyways and bright squares. Then too working at the library was 40 hours a week of busyness.

So now I have good ankles and good shoes and I’m ready for the next hill, the next bright dawn.

Here’s a river poem, this river was someplace I know I wore worn shoes to:

Imnaha

I know this river, know this river by the soles of my feet

river rock glass and sand. Know this river by the green depth
I swim through as fish. Know the shadows beneath the fallen
trees, waving like ribbon – sleeping trout.
I rise slick-headed like the otter, met that sunny day
he as curious as me and then we both dove
and I glanced the web foot waving.
This river, stuck down deep in the dry, dry canyon
purple rim rocks above the yellow grass
the river attracts green, trees shade by the bridge
swallows swirl and dive and the emerald dragonflies
bless my arms as I float downstream.
 

~~M.E. Hope