Suffering for cuteness

Lately, the last few days in Denver have been nice and fall-like: cold nights and mornings, cool days. Which means it's time to start pulling out the cold weather outfits. This usually involves my putting away flip flops and sandals (I'd wear them year round if it didn't snow here) in favor of boots and ballet flats. Today, I just so happened to wear a shirt that just so happened to perfectly match a pair of shoes I have.

Now, these shoes are pretty cute but they are almost too painful to wear. Length wise, they're fine. But they're super tight around the base of each big toe. To the point where that toe starts to get, oh I don't know, numb? And it doesn't help that shoes like this really aggravate my left foot. Why just my left foot, you ask? Well, sit back and lemme explain.

Back in 2004, while on a solo backpacking trip around New Zealand, I signed up to do horseback riding in the ocean. Totally cliche but who wouldn't want to gallop a horse on the beach and in the ocean?!? Ok, maybe you don't but I was seriously stoked about it. Cue the scene of having horses assigned to us based on our experience level. I told them I was advanced. I wasn't lying; I am. I've been riding since I was about 7, competing since 9, and trained our 2 horses in high school. I know my stuff. However, saying I was advanced meant getting a horse that probably carried Satan around in her free time. This horse was crazy. Her name: Shady. 'Nuff said. This horse spooked at the slightest thing, would alternate from taking off at a gallop and over a fence to refusing to move. The leisurely, idyllic romp through the surf I'd envisioned was now turning into a white-knuckle ride at break neck speed. To give you a mental image: picture horses coming down the homestretch at the Kentucky Derby. Flat-out, ears pinned back=Shady. The ride moved us out of the ocean and up over the hills and back toward the farm. The ride back included going back via dirt road. I didn't think anything of it until (that's right, there's always an 'until') another rider loped by at a leisurely pace and this was apparently a challenge for Shady to take off down this road at break neck speed. And the road had a decent decline.

About 2 microseconds after passing the calm steed and its rider, the worst happened. My foot slipped through the stirrup iron. My foot had slipped through and the stirrup was now hanging out around my ankle. This, for those not in the know, is not good. Not good at all. Reason being: in the event you fall off/get thrown from the horse while said foot is not firmly ensconced on the stirrup iron, you're not just going to fall to the ground. No, you're going to be dragged upside-down by the horse. I was trying not to panic (ha!) and attempting to slow this maniac beast down; even pulling the reins so far back that my hands were back at my chest. Nothing was slowing this stupid horse down. So on we go, winding down off the hills and back toward the farm. My legs were clamped so tightly around her sides to try and prevent the imminent death I felt was coming. About a half mile from the farm, the road leveled out and Shady kicked it up a notch. Wasn't she tired?!? The entrance to the farm was through a gate and we'd be taking a serious 90 degree turn into it...at about 90 miles an hour. Okay, maybe not that fast. At least 85. My balance was fine, as long as the horse was going straight. But considering we were going to be turning right and I only had 1 side bearing weight, I figured this was where impending death appeared. Somehow we made it through the gate without my falling and being mutilated by the horse.

Needless to say, I was ready to hand her back to the farm hand and off I went to take a shower. It was then I discovered I hadn't walked away unscathed. On my left ankle, the foot that had slipped the stirrup, was a hole where the iron had rubbed. Yes, a hole. Rubbed all the skin and "stuff" away to the point where you could see, well, things. Things you really don't want to see. We were in the middle of nowhere New Zealand and I highly doubted an urgent care, let alone a hospital, was anywhere nearby. I slapped a few band aids on it and continued on my trip, thinking that it would scab over and heal. Nope. I'll spare you the details of how it looked but it wasn't good and I honestly thought I'd go back to the States with no left foot. Funny enough, it scabbed over and started to heal the instant I hit US soil. Not so funny was the soon-to-be-discovered fact that I'd apparently suffered some nerve damage in that foot and now it swells easily.

Do I let the swelling slow me down? Not if the shoes are really cute!

Posted by Mandy at 4:18 PM