Size 8, they grew half a shoe size with each pregnancy, now nearly 60 years old, my feet take me.  Whether walking toward or away, my feet sometimes have to override my brain.  Step by step, life happens like a map unfolding in front of me. 

More often a bit calloused than smooth, rocky and rough roads require tough skin.  Connecting me to Mother Earth in so many important ways.  As a child, my feet ran, jumped, swam, peddled, stood for the pledge, walked in a single file line, and moved in tandem with my family.  My feet learned to work an accelerator, brake, and eventually a clutch.  They took down many corridors in school, work, and life. 

Now nearing my 60^th birthday, my feet are still running, jumping, swimming, peddling and more.  I had an inspiration to pair a couple of my favorite things running and beautiful scenery in nature.  I signed my feet up for a Spartan 10K trail run in the scenic Texas Hill Country.  My feet started doing the work but quickly encountered an object harder than my callouses, rolled my ankle, broke a bone, had to skip that race. 

Of course, it wasn’t my feet’s fault but they got a rest.  That rest was an opportunity to appreciate my feet and so much more.  My broken foot healed and my two feet got back to working together. 

I can’t write about my feet without mentioning shoes.  I have a long love affair with shoes.  I remember the thrill of shopping at “Payless Shoes” as a child, walking down the isles so excited to find just the right ones.  From the sneakers of my youth, to sexy heals, and serious professional shoes of my early career, my feet have been shaped by the chapters of my shoe life. 

Inspired once more, I again entered the Spartan 10K Trail run.  As a runner, I have numerous running shoes of varying ages and purposes.  I have this really cool lime green Hoka trail running shoes.  I don’t run trails too often but they were adequately broken in and comfortable.  So those lime green cuties were my feet’s race day attire.  Standing in the start area, minutes before my feet were to run over 7 miles of rough and beautiful country side, I noticed the sole was separating from the upper.  My thought was “don’t freak out, see how it goes, enjoy the experience”.  The front of the right shoe separated in the first mile.  The bright red “Spartan” tape marking the trail improvised a solution to holding my shoe together.  Not as fast as my feet would have liked, I kept the tape adjusted to avoid tripping.  My left shoe separated from it’s sole about mile 5.  My feet were so thrilled by the scenery and excitement of the adventure that they just keep putting themselves down, right, left, right, left.  Another piece of tape secured the left shoe and created a cohesive look for my feet in those lime green cuties. 

The final mile of the course was a beautiful rabble of prickly pear.  The finish line included a Spartan fire to jump over.  Although it might have been fitting that my undone shoes fall into the fire, I was hoping that my feet would carry me over to celebrate the victory and joy of the moment.  My feet, my Spartan taped lime green Hokas and I all arrived at the finish line gleefully.

I am so grateful for my feet!