212 – Feet

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I like to walk on the beach. It is good for the mind, body, and soul – and refreshing on my feet.

Those words start and end every beach walk essay. While they are an excellent description of my time as a snowbird, they also directed me to today’s topic – one I’m surprised I haven’t done.

Feet is the plural form of a foot. I guess someone way back when decided feet is a better word than foots, footes, footies, or footsies. As I walk step-by-step one foot at a time across the sand, I wonder how many times I will stop to look down at my feet to ponder.

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My mind immediately takes me to my years of teaching human anatomy and physiology. Our feet are at the end of each leg – feet with a heel, arch, and long bones leading into toes. Feet with ankle bones serving as a connection point with the lower leg bones. Feet with 26 bones, joints, ligaments, tendons, and only a few muscles. 

Feet with collective terms such as tarsals, metatarsals, and phalanges. Yes, our toes and fingers share the same name. Some readers may know the ankle bone is the talus and the calcaneus is the heel bone, but the other names are less commonly known.

I think about how our feet are our primary mode of changing position. Thinking of all the places we walk is overwhelming, but I think of the many feet that blazed trails. In earlier times, people didn’t own horses – so their feet were how they went from place to place. No wonder much of their life was limited to a town or two.

Because we use our feet so much, I think about the shoes and socks that protect them. We have many types of shoes, but I’ve written an essay about shoes. Here, I’m in flip-flops, but they are waiting for my return at the walkway.

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I’m barefoot at this moment. I enjoy feeling the grit under my feet and the water passing over them. I think about the other times when people are barefoot – activities like swimming, water skiing, gymnastics, and martial arts come to mind. I can’t forget beach volleyball and the occasional runners jogging on the beach – but I also enjoy being barefoot when I’m inside.

Passing the heron causes me to think about other feet in the biological world – feet modified into hooves, claws, webs, protective paws, and even suction cups. Let’s not forget the fins and wings. Feet for running, climbing, grasping,  holding, and swimming. Feet with a different number of toes, but modified as an adaptation with a purpose.

I think about my feet and where they have been. When vacationing, we enjoy wandering the streets of unknown places. I wonder if my feet occupied the same spot as the feet of Caesar, Churchill, Napolean, kings, queens, popes, and other famous people.

My paternal family dates back to the same small town atop a Tuscan mountain to the 1500s, so walking the main street and steps is a special feeling. Walking the grounds of horrors such as the Holocaust, the Battle of Gettysburg, and riots is eerie – but walking on a college campus is serene for me.   

I think about the striking structural similarities between our hands and feet. Yet their purposes are very different. This leads me to broken bones, sprains, blisters, flat feet, bunions, hammer toes, gout, plantar fasciitis, and those suffering from neuropathy talking about the pain they feel in their feet.

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I think about how people tap their feet to music. Some musicians do it to keep the time, but listeners do it to show appreciation. As a former marching band person, I think of the feet moving in unison – moving up, down, and across the field to entertain the crowd. Even times stepping in place or marching down the street in a parade. I cannot forget attending the moving extravaganza of military bands at the Edinburgh Tattoo. 

I think of my feet in the world of ballroom dance. Using them to push off the floor. Knowing when to slide them, when to point the toes, or lead with the heels. While the feet keep me balanced, I realize that the position of my head is what most commonly puts me out of balance.

I think about how dancing is like walking – one foot at a time – one firmly planted while the other begins to move – both feet seldom planted together.

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Feet allows us to stand tall and cushion each step like a shock absorber. We can put our best foot forward, have a foot in the door, or wait on someone hand and foot, but those are very different from having cold feet, flat feet, a hot foot, or being underfoot.  

We can be on the wrong, right, front or back foot, have our feet in both camps, be fleet of foot, or have a shoe on the other foot, but we don’t want one foot in the grave, foot-in-mouth disease, or insert our foot into our mouth. However, maybe a lucky rabbit’s foot will help – but I don’t have a foot fetish.

During my time as a snowbird, my feet take many steps. The first walk of the season causes me to proclaim, Let the exfoliation begin. When my time is up here, the soles of my feet are much smoother than when I arrived. Toward the end, I notice my soles having a tender glow. After all, I like to walk on the beach. It is good for the mind, body, and soul – and refreshing on my feet. 

See what other bloggers have posted about Feet

• Keep Your Feet (a poem)
• Feet on the Ground (a personal essay)
• Cold Feet (a poem)
• Foot Freedom (a personal essay)
• Heavy Feet (a poem)

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