Entering Harpers Ferry
My boots were delaminating - clomp, step, clomp, step. One side was pulling away from the toe, catching on roots and rocks, digging up little scuffs of soil, tossing it at my other calf.
The other boot wasn't even trying to pretend to hold together. After over 900 miles, it was well past the floppy toe bit. It was my princess-and-the-pea shoe. The rubber sole of the Sundowner had pulled gaps halfway from the toe to the heel. So, when it flopped forward and down during the swing of that foot, it would scoop up just the right-sized pebble to fall into the deep cleft between rubber and leather. The foot follows to the end of its arc and the hiker (me) starts to transfer his weight to that foot. Only when the full weight of the hiker (me, again) and his full pack presses down does the pebble exhibit its full judo-like steath ability to transfer the opponent's force against him, turning the aptly-named foot-pounds into precision focused jabbing pain in the sole of the hiker's foot (me yet again, and mine, too).
Stop, clear the boot of hitchhiking pebbles, reboot and go again. Until the next stealth pebble. The 'glue' I'd bought in Springfield Mall was gooped last night. Held up exactly three miles. I hoped beyond hope that my favorite A.T.C. field staffer had the chance to drop off a box for me at headquarters.