Just before turning 14, at the tail end of the spring soccer season, I was running up and down artificial grass as a mid-fielder just as I'd done all season when suddenly a pain shot into my lower back. Three of my friends who had been watching came up to me, and with no clue as to what I was feeling started joking, asking what the hell I was doing. I laughed too.
On the drive home, my mom asked me why my back was hurting. I breathed heavily and said I had no idea. She asked maybe it was related to the locking calf muscles that had been affecting me recently. I shook my head, "it's only in my back. No where near my leg." Without public eyes on me my earlier tolerance of pain was gone, I barely made it to the front door from the driveway, a walk that takes only 10-12 steps. My mom had to help me like a crutch.
I spent that coming summer in Korea, where I saw a funky doctor who prescribed me orthotics. When we paid for them I heard that they cost $200 dollars worth of won. I'd proclaimed that it was a ripoff, I'd seen Dr. Scholl's selling in America for 20 bucks! What the fuck was this?!
The doctor and I had gotten off to a bad start. More bad for me and him simply being patient. But the whole time he never had a bad attitude; his face remained calm and maintained a grin even. When he told me that my back pain was due to my feet, I said he was crazy.
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