When I grew up in the Netherlands there was a cartoon film about a baby dinosaur called, if I remember correctly, Platvoet or 'Flatfoot'. Well now I could star myself as physio number 2 has had a chance to laugh at my ridiculous gait. Apparently the cause of my knee problems is glaringly obvious to the educated observer. I didn't know my feet were funny. I thought everyone's feet were like that.
But the lovely Karen was very kind and mostly managed to conceal her amusement and offer helpful advice. I was measured up for orthotics in a trice, although as I didn't realise that I couldn't pay by credit card I'll have to head back later this week with a cheque. A very large cheque. Maybe I'll run there with it, since I may have to sell the car to pay for them.
On the plus side, the orthotics should only take two weeks to appear and I should have them broken in just in time for the marathon. Although since they cost exactly what I have so far raised for Amnesty, maybe I should have given the money to charity, not run the race and save everyone the bother!
Nope, Karen assures me that these miracle devices will save me from all sorts of associated joint problems in later life. And they last for ages - she says she sees a lot of army guys who wear them 'in the jungle', so the odd trail race should be doable.
In the meantime, I'm so happy with my progress that I'm considering cancelling my NHS appointment next week. What can they possibly provide that Graham and Karen haven't covered between them? It's worth every penny for prompt and friendly treatment that 'll get me round the course.
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