Confessions from a Four-Mile Quitter

“Don’t limit your challenges, challenge your limits.” — Jerry Dunn

Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

I’ve been a walker for as long as I can remember. After Steve and I bought our first house, I walked our dogs around the neighborhood. Once we had kids, I’d walk by myself after dinner. Over the years, I’ve walked (and ran) more 5K charity walks than I can remember. Now that Steve is retired, we’ve begun walking together.

Being that Steve is competitive, he encourages me to walk faster and farther. This has created a conundrum for me because no matter what, I always hit a wall around the four-mile mark.

My feet always hurt. My toes cramped. My back ached. And it wasn’t like I was wearing a pair of Keds, I was donning some pretty pricey Hokas. I did my best to remedy the situation. I bought breathable socks. I bought insoles. Discovered toe spacers. Everything helped, but only a little. Nothing got me past the four-mile finish line without pain.

Eventually I just decided 3.5 miles was my limit. Steve went on longer walks by himself and I went on my slower, shorter walks. And all was well, until now. Now, as I mentioned in my last post, Steve and I have committed to walking the Camino De Santiago in 2027.

I’m so excited for this trip! But what about my toes?! I’ve been worrying incessantly about my ability to walk double digit miles every day during our trip. And I do not want to travel half-way across the world only to whine about my feet every day.

So, I’ve been researching; learning what kind of shoes people wear, reading up on how others handle blisters (Steve’s issue) and toe cramps. I even went to a Hoosiers on the Camino presentation about the trail. Someone there suggested I go to REI for help. Could I find shoes that don’t hurt my feet? Do they even make shoes for feet as small, and wide as mine? To be honest, my expectations were low.

The salesperson at REI measured my foot, explained which brands work better for wide feet, and showed me which shoes would be good for the trail. She gave me sock recommendations. She showed me how to lace my shoes in a different way to give myself a little wiggle room. It was like going to Shoe School. I left with a pair of Altras and a little hope.

After breaking in my new shoes with short walks, Steve and I started walking together again. Some days, he’d encourage me to walk a little farther. Not wanting to be a weenie, I always gave in. Slowly but surely we began to up our mileage.

Last week, we were so busy talking and taking in the beautiful weather, that I didn’t pay attention to our distance. Once home, I discovered we’d walked 6.5 miles. And guess what? My feet were fine. My toes didn’t cramp. My back didn’t ache. If we’d had more time, I could have walked even farther.

What changed? Obviously my shoes and socks. But also, something even better: my attitude.

For years, I’ve been telling myself I can’t walk more than four miles. My feet weren’t cut out for it. I’m not young anymore. I’m not as strong as I used to be. But it wasn’t me, it was that I’d given up on finding a solution for my problem. This may seem obvious as I share it in retrospect, but it wasn’t for me.

I had tried to walk longer distances. I had tried to find remedies for my pain. Eventually, I assumed there was no solution. It took signing up for a walking challenge to get me to dig a little deeper in finding the best combination of shoes and socks for my feet.

Me sporting my Altras on a hike in Maine

It made me think about the rest of my life. When else have I told myself I can’t do something that I wanted to do? (A whole lotta times, let me tell you.) In what other situations have I mistaken an obstacle (foot pain) for a limit (I can’t do this)?

It’s a small but important distinction. We often tell ourselves we can’t cook, have a brown thumb, or don’t have an artistic bone in our body. But maybe we just haven’t haven’t armed ourselves with the knowledge we need or proper equipment. Perhaps when we didn’t do well the first few times we tried something, we just assumed we were the problem. I think for most things in life, it’s not about an inability, so much as it is about having the right shoes.

My small, wide feet are always going to be small, wide feet. Chances are good that they will continue to give me grief now and again. I’ll have to work harder than the average Joe to find shoes and socks that don’t pinch my toes. But my feet issues don’t have to stop me from doing what I want. I’m learning not to limit myself so quickly. Because maybe there is a way for me to do the things I want to do, if I just keep digging, if I work harder to get past my obstacles. And just maybe there’s a way for you to do the things you want to do, too.

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