I dreamed last night that my feet had begun to change shape from years of running. They were very flat and flexible, and you could bend them so that the toes touched the shin, like with a newborn. The toes had the thickness similar to a pancake and curled upward at the end. They were very bruised and bluish. I showed them to my wife, though neither of us were overly concerned.
What is odd about this, is that after over 14 years of not missing a day of running, I hardly ever run in my dreams. My dreams are about other things that have nothing to do with my real life. Weird stuff. Like the one I had about giving golf advice to Phil Mickleson at our house in St. Louis while babysitting a kid with no body.
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