Friday I miss my train by 2 minutes! That’s it! Two minutes. I left my office at 5:21. I have 9 minutes to make my train. I could either run eight tenths of a mile in 90 plus degree heat or I could take the T and chance it.
I took the T. I went in the State Street entrance and as I am coming down to the platform, a train pulls in. I totally have a shot at making my train now! We all pile into the T and head towards North Station. We stop at Haymarket and no one gets off. The doors close and I am psyched that we are on our way. Every last second counts right now.
As we approach North Station, people start lining up at the door in their “On your mark. Get set. GO!” stances. People are already telling people to get out of their way so they can run to the train. I look down at my feet and realize I have flip flop gladiators on. I am sporting flip flop gladiators because I was a dancing diva at a wedding the previous weekend and obtained some awesome blisters (and by awesome, I really mean hideous and painful) and the only shoes that would avoid making my blisters worse were flip flop gladiators.
I am instantly bummed. I am probably not going to make my train. I refuse to run amongst the herds in open toed shoes… period and I will tell you why.
A few years back, I was in a similar situation. Everyone was in the “On your mark. Get set. GO!” stance on the train. Including me! As the doors opened, we all dart out toward the escalator. I am almost to the top when a guy in a suit throws me out of his way and my foot got jammed in the escalator. My big toe got mangled! I continued on running and I did make my train that particular day. I was so enraged with adrenaline that I pushed through my pain to make the train. There was no way I was getting an injury like that and being left behind on the platform. NO WAY!
When I took my seat on the train that day, I grabbed a tissue from my purse and threw it over my toe. I am squeamish so that was all I could do. I didn’t feel like passing out on the train so I waited until I got home to deal with it.
After I got home and cleaned up my toe, I was a hobbling mess. I informed my husband that after dinner that night, we’d be going out to purchase a pair of steal toed boots. He then told me that I was over reacting and that steal toed boots didn’t exactly go with skirt suits. In the name of fashion, I agreed with him and we settled on finding a cute pair of rubber toed tennis shoes.
Since that day, no matter how hot it is, I have worn closed toed shoes every day! Every day until last week! So, to reduce further injury to my feet on Friday, I speed walked to the platform behind the herd of runners from the T and I missed the train by the skin of my teeth. My big toe thanked me but my weekend started about 20 minutes later than usual. I guess ya gotta do whatcha gotta do!