Back on My Feet

If you'd told me at the start of this year that my feet would become the main characters of 2026, I would've laughed. Then I would've limped away.

Let me catch you up.

Broken Toe

Earlier this year, I broke my toe. On a foot that was already dealing with plantar fasciitis. I won't get into the details, because there is no version of that story where I come out looking dignified. What matters is: broken toe, and then (in a decision I am fully prepared to defend and also completely unable to justify) I went to Disneyland and Universal Studios.

Yes. Two theme parks. On a broken toe, attached to a foot with plantar fasciitis. I'm aware of how that sounds.

Here's the thing about theme parks: they don't do "light activity." Every ride is separated from the next ride by what scientists call "a marathon." Somewhere around hour three of day one, my foot filed a formal complaint, and my foot was right. This was not the smartest idea I've ever had. It wasn't even in the top ten smartest ideas I had that week.

The good news: the toe healed. It took a few months after we got back before it felt normal again, but it got there. The toe and I are on speaking terms once more.

Meanwhile, the Rest of That Same Foot

The plantar fasciitis was already there before the toe. If you've never had it, imagine your foot inventing a new and exciting way to hurt every time you stand up. It takes forever to heal. You do the stretches. You roll things under your foot. You ice. You wait. You wait some more. You consider whether you could just become a person who doesn't stand.

But here's the part worth celebrating: by last month, it was pretty much better. Knock on wood. I'll be gently touching wood for the rest of this post.

Actually Going Outside

Now that the foot works, the plan is simple: use it. I'm getting better about getting outside. Walking at lunch, taking the dogs on longer walks, that kind of thing.

The dogs, for the record, have not been subtle about their opinions. Before, our walks were what you'd call "efficient." Now the leash comes out and they act like I've personally apologized to them for the entire year. Which, honestly, I kind of have.

Is this a fitness journey? Let's not get carried away. It's more of a "walking around on purpose" journey. But after a year where one foot staged two separate rebellions, being able to just go for a walk with no limp, no wincing, and no plotting the shortest route to the nearest bench feels pretty great.