Have you ever been someplace where walking was important, say on vacation, developed a blister due to an ill-fitting sock, and suddenly been transformed into an orthopedic cripple? Then with several miles of boardwalk before you, experienced the true meaning of the expression, "the longest mile?"
I can go for years without getting a blister, and one seldom plans on getting them. You can even nurse yourself along when the skin has just bubbled up, forming a kind of small balloon on the surface. When that bubble bursts, however, there's nothing but raw flesh between yourself and an abrasive environment, and you begin to appreciate just how many nerve endings lie in a few centimeters of body surface. These nerves all loudly sing their presence and indignation when they are rudely exposed by a rubbed-off, burst, and now angry blister!
You know those low-riding, half-socks that they sell that extend no further up your leg than the ankle?--Shun them, at least if you plan on doing serious walking, for they are the socks of the devil, or at least the Spanish Inquisition! They tend not to remain planted on your foot but rather ride up and down, sliding around on and against your heel with prolonged stepping.--That's right, they are a blister-generation device! If you see serious hikers, you'll notice that they almost always wear quality thick full-length socks, even when wearing shorts. Hikers wisely value function over style, and know very well that if their feet are hurt, the game is over!
So when I limped in agony those last excruciating steps up the boardwalk to join my better half, I was asked, "What happened to you?!" I had learned the painful lesson of the importance of wearing the right socks and footwear.--Did you know that a blister became infected, and killed the son of President Calvin Coolidge? Respect your humble feet, and treat them well, or suffer the painful consequences!