Low and Slow

Today I finally caved.

I moved from training in twenty-dollar shoes to something far more expensive — not out of desire, but necessity. The shoes I’ve been wearing have been crushing my toes together, creating a constant ache in my left foot that I can no longer ignore.

So I did it. I invested in two pairs of barefoot shoes with wide toe boxes. From the moment I put them on, they felt right. Comfortable. Spacious. I’m hoping they give my left foot the time and room it needs to stop screaming for attention.

Still no movement on the visa. The waiting game continues, dull at best. For now, I think the best thing I can do is walk, camera in hand, and see what presents itself.

I’m trying not to let frustration creep in, but the truth is this process is costing more than I expected — both financially and emotionally — and taking far longer than I would like. I keep telling myself there’s a lesson here, but at the moment I can’t see it.

As always, I suspect it will appear when I’m ready to notice it.

Until then, all I can do is keep moving — low and slow — through a pattern that feels repetitive and slightly laboured.

The day ended the way I wish more days would: a couple of hours of Tai Chi in the park. And it was beautiful.

Getting lost in movement is a privilege I never take for granted. It never grows old. It never feels wasted.

The evening closed with a simple meal and a conversation with an old friend. We caught up, traded new stories, and laughed at our shared attempts at navigating life.

It’s good to have friends like that. And it’s good to remember to tell them what they mean to you.