So, on Day 4 I had really bad shin splints, and told myself I need to take it easy by doing a different exercise on day 5. Yet I was really wanting to run. My shin splints felt fine, so I hopped on the treadmill. Lo and behold, toward the end, the shin splints happened again. Only my right shin, again.
The strangest thing--it didn't hurt while running. It mostly hurt only when walking. Yet, from my research, my posture is as it should be with both running and walking.
So, on day 6, I stepped on the elliptical, but had to stop 20 minutes into it because my ear was hurting like a bitch. During the elliptical, my toes in my right foot--the middle toes--fell asleep. What the fuck? I decided to just walk on the treadmill. I needed to practice walking at a fast pace anyway, 'cause my marathon battle plan involves a fair amount of walking. The splints were okay...just sorta ached. My toes didn't fall asleep this time, at least.
Sounds like shoe problems. I'm using The only problem is that I don't want to shell out $$$ for a good pair of running shoes. I'd rather use that money toward other important things. Like groceries. Or cat food.
But if this pain keeps bothering me, I will need to buckle down and probably head over to Filene's Basement or Nordstrom Rack to find some good, affordable running shoes. That in of itself is a whole 'nother problem. Believe it or not, I hate going shopping. The background music, the din of the chattering, the "pro shoppers" who shove past other people with their 5 big suitcase purses filled with crap they'll only wear once, the surly checkout clerks, the disappointment of "Yay, I actually found something that fits and looks good!" to "Day-um, that's a lot of zeros."
I really hate going into the big box stores, too. Say, actual Nordstroms. Or Sears. Or Macy's. I just hate it--too much stuff crowding me in, and it's a total sensory overload. I also hate it when the store employees silently judge me for wearing 5 year old shirts and pants, and carrying a cheapo Target purse instead of one of those fugly Coochi or whatchamatcallit purses with the huge-ass monograms stamped all over it as if you didn't know what kind of purse it was from just one monogram.
Either I put up with the pain of shin splints, or the pain of shopping and of a lighter bank account. Fuck.