[Today’s run: sick day]
I want to tell you that my feet are ripped. When I was younger, I heard about this old-guy body-builder named Bass. He wrote books called “Ripped” (Ripped 2, Ripped 3, etc.).
I’m kind of like Mr. Bass at both ends, but not at all like him in the middle.
So anyway, here’s a picture of my feet. Obviously I could use a manicure, and toenail fungus takes it’s toll. And I don’t know how to really get them pumped and oiled and flexed for a picture. Sorry. Just take my word for it. My feet are ripped. There’s no fat south of my ankles. The blue veins course along just under the skin. You can see the parts moving when I wiggle my toes.
These days I’m doing well to weigh less than 195. 10 years ago I weighed about 175. The lowest I have been as an adult is 155 about 24 years ago. And all that time I’ve been a jogger, a runner, whatever you want to call it. These feet are a size 9.5, more or less. * So these feet have covered some miles carrying a heavy load. My pinky toes have a tendency to curl under. I have to trim the callus on them periodically to keep that under control. (And I have graduated to large-toe-box shoe models.) Otherwise, they don’t give me many problems.
We can talk about the top-end commonalities I share with Mr. Bass another time.
* Google search failed me in trying to find a Weight / shoe-size ==> PSI calculator.