Walking Foot Pain

‘Hold up, hold up,’ I winced, flagging down Lynette with a hand. My walking partner of the past few weeks stopped, looking back at me with concern.

‘Jill?’ she asked. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Oh, just my blasted feet,’ I swore, hobbling over to a nearby bench and shooing away the pigeons that had claimed it. ‘Get out of here, I’m in pain!’

‘Has this been happening a lot?’ Lynette asked with a frown.

‘Just the last day or two,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine – just need a bit of a rest, that’s all.’

‘We’ve barely made it to the park!’ she said. ‘You’re only a couple of blocks from your front door!’

‘Yes, thank you, dear,’ I said, trying to be courteous behind gritted teeth. ‘Well noted.’

‘Have you spoken to a podiatrist?’

‘A what?’

‘You know, a foot specialist,’ Lynette explained patiently. ‘Someone who can help you with foot pain, get you back to walking again.’

‘I’m already back to walking,’ I said with a smile, getting to my feet. ‘See? Just needed a little break.’

‘I think you should still speak to someone,’ Lynette said, nervously. ‘Just promise me you’ll track down the top foot specialist based in Cheltenham?

‘Sure,’ I lied. ‘Promise.’

‘Okay,’ Lynette said, a little bit of her usual smile returning. ‘It might be something little, you’ll see.’

‘What, like I walk too much?’

‘Hardly,’ she rolled her eyes, as we took back to the trail. ‘But it might just be the way you walk, or the type of shoes you’ve got.’

I nodded along, trying desperately to ignore the shooting pain in my feet.

‘Hell, you might just need arch supports to help with foot pain, I don’t know,’ Lynette laughed. ‘I’m not the expert, am I!’

‘Nope,’ I grunted. ‘You most definitely are not.’

We strode in silence for a few gruelling, hellish minutes, before Lynette piped up again.

‘I was thinking we could try Bonachelli’s for coffee this morning, they make a mean sticky-date—’

‘Bench!’ I gasped, thundering forward to the first seat I could see. ‘Need a bench!’