I’m often asked if, out on the open road, I fear the unfamiliar people.
People I’ve met have been fantastic– I’ve never once been attacked, robbed, run over, etc.
If I’m to “fear” anything, it’s stuff like this: a spike sticking up unnoticeably in my pedestrian path.
As I narrowly missed that mondo, dirt-road rattlesnake near Deming, New Mexico,  this spike gave me my most painful (and scary) step of the entire Walk. I don’t even keep any sort of running tally on pains and challenges across the miles. Speaking solely of foot fumbles, I’ll always have a broad selection of stories to share, including:

• debilitating blisters have pulled me off the road on several occasions;
• plantar fasciitis was VERY challenging for over a thousand miles, all across California, Arizona, New Mexico and into Texas;
• I’ve painfully twisted my feet on invisibly uneven surfaces, rocks, curbs, etc.;
• I’ve felt the fire of hot blacktop through my soles while walking on scorching summer days;
• I’ve walked for hours at a time with wet feet; my feet are the first to freeze on cold nights outdoors; and,
• they overheat in socks & shoes on warm days.

None of these experiences shocked my reality with the magnitude that this spike did today, however. As state routes in Alabama often have neither shoulder nor sidewalk, I’ve been relegated to the grass for hundreds of highway miles. I can’t move nearly as quickly or efficiently in the grass, but complaining is counterproductive, and the gratitude attitude is a most valuable asset anywhere; so, I simply continue forward with the best of what I have. And today, walking in the grass drilled this steel surprise right through the thick sole of my sandal into the bare skin of my foot.
At first, feeling the powerful spike strongly pierce my thick sandal sole and punch my foot, I honestly thought the spike poked a hole in my foot as well. A reactionary scream of devastation escaped from me on contact. Such a serious foot injury could pull me off the road for months. Looking down to my sandal, I wasn’t seeing any quick rush of blood. This was my first major relief. I still felt the pain though. Pulling the sandal off and examining my foot, I fortunately found nothing more than a serious blood blister on the joint near my big toe. The spike had perforated the sandal in one of the most advantageous spots, to my good fortune. The spot was tender and sore, but I could continue to walk.
I couldn’t see the spike from the grass around me, but new about where I stepped, and as there was no sidewalk aside this stretch of busy road, not only was I curious as to what I stepped on, more importantly, I knew I needed to find the spike or eventually, someone else would step on it to. I had to gently feel my way through the grass till I finally came into contact with the spike. Pulling it from the ground, the pictured spike is what I found. It must have held up some sign at some point, I suppose. I couldn’t figure any other reason for it’s being there.
As “preventive health” is at the core of my Walk, I of course wondered to myself: “How can I prevent a similar such incident from occurring in the future?”
The answer? I can’t, sadly. This spike was hidden like a land mine, and if I’m to slowly inch my way across the country, meticulously examining each square centimeter of soil for dangerous debris, I’ll never make any progress. (I already spend a great part of my day spotting and avoiding road hazards.) So, I simply have to accept that such risks exists, continue forward, and do what I must to make the best of any scenario that awaits me. Stuff like this may be a threat, but fortunately, the wonderful people across the miles await me like angels .

After completely puncturing my sandal, this metal spike almost impaled my foot as well...

Stepping into a spike buried within the grass proves walking in the grass is dangerous, but is there any easy option B? Unfortunately, in many places, there is not.