Justice, Pink Blades of
Evildoers, beware. Your nemesis is afoot. Or, afeet, perhaps more accurately. For on the eve of Tuesday I did stride ardently, festooned with what shall forever be
THE PINK BLADES OF JUSTICE.
And evildoers did flee, rest assured, as I saw nary a reprobate, scofflaw, or politician.
As described previously, I have been limited in my skate skiing excursions by foot pain. Feet pain, more accurately, as it occurs in both of my arches. I attribute this to woefully poor technique on my part. So unsteady on the slippery bits, I grip the soles of my boots, talon-like, causing quick and drastic fatigue to my archery regions.
On Tuesday, I sought to correct this.
- Phase 1: Tighten the bejeezus out of my boots
Thinking that if my feet had no choice but to remain immobile, they would be less inclined to attempt to clench unnecessarily. So, like a doting mother and foot binding enthusiast, I cinched up my boots. Seriously, I think they might have been air tight. Ends up that this didn’t help at all, zero blood circulation notwithstanding. While the rest of the group zoomed around in a figure eight pattern (more complicated than it sounds) I attempted to, and then threw myself to my knees in a frantic attempt to jettison myself from my boots. I thought at one point I had no choice but to call in the Jaws of Life for emergency extraction.
- Phase 2: Loosen said boot bejeezus
After a cooling off period where I took it upon myself to actually bathe my aching feet in snow, I gingerly reinserted my southerly appendages into the boots. I attemped to glide about the figure eight pattern. Gliding, for me, is not without a great gnashing of teeth and flailing appendages, but my feet did feel better. I did however feel quite tenuous in my position, and thought that any sudden movements would seek to separate me from my boots and therefore the crime-fighting PBoJs. And we can’t have that, can we?
So, after five laps on the Green (MOOOOOSE TRAIL (an O for every lap)) Course, resting my feet with frequent double poling, which helped my recovery, I got my heart rate up and even started to feel confident that I might have solved the foot puzzle. Oh, and a quick note about the PBoJs: They’re fast. Very fast. Nigh breathtakingly fast. Consider yourself warned.
I finished with my four laps on my favorite straight up and straight down sprint course (while enduring the puzzled “What is wrong with you, why on earth are you doing that?” looks from my fellow skiers) and called it a night.
Looking forward to a few nights of fentoozling to break up the hectic pace of skate skiing, but will remain forever vigilant in thwarting the evildoings of evildoers, particularly politicians.
