Following the Footsteps
My first memory of feet comes from my dad. When I was a kid, our family of four drove several hours to the coast of New Jersey, to the Wildwood beaches each summer.
Sometimes my parents woke us in the night so that we slept on the way. I understand that reasoning better now, as a parent. Yet, I still wonder, when did he sleep? Other times we made the daytime trip and stopped halfway for lunch at Friendly’s restaurant. Getting a grilled cheese sandwich followed by a scoop of ice cream with an upside down cone as a hat and Reese’s pieces for the eyes and nose was a real treat.
Each day at the Jersey shore, I literally followed my dads footsteps from the Pink Shell Motel, under the Wildwood Boardwalk, to the oceans edge, through the silky warm sand.
The walk seemed an eternity to my young self, but perhaps it was about 15 minutes. The white sands stretched on as far as I could see, with idle amusement rides off in the distance at Morey’s Pier. There is something mysterious about a paused ferris wheel mid-day. As if the ride is nocturnal, sleeping and storing energy for the night ahead.
Dad stepped this way and that way to keep us kids moving to our beach spot each day.
Footprints facing North. South. Northwest. East. Southeast. And on and on.
When we finally claimed our space of sand for the day, dad and mom set up beach chairs, an umbrella a few sand toys, towels and a small cooler with food. Grapes, deli sandwiches and maybe some pretzels and lemonade.
We eagerly awaited the sing-song voice of the ice cream man with his rolling cooler.
“Get your fudgy-wudgies”.
I can still hear the seagulls caw-ing and the waves gently tapping the shore. This scene repeated summer after summer, like clock-work. Consistent. Duplicated. Year after year. The beach walk happening day after day.
When dad found seashells in the ocean, using his feet, he would hold the large wavy concave shells in place while I dove down and retrieved them. The collection gathered outside our motel room door and sometimes I brought them home to paint.
These early connections to feet imprinted something special within me.
My impressions could have been polar opposite. My dad could have not wanted me to touch his feet. My dad might have hated his feet. Yet, he was playful with his feet.
As I have learned, not everybody has a positive relationship with their feet. In fact some people are appalled by them. My high school best friend refused to touch her feet with her own hands because she found them to be gross. Some people only see their feet when they bathe or get a pedicure.
During college I entered into a career and played sports that required closed toed shoes. Sneakers with cushions. Narrow kleets. Snug fitting rollerblades.
By the time I learned about biomechanics in a meaningful way I had trained my feet to live in sneakers that had a heel and high arch supports.
I had been evaluated by a running store specialist and fitted accordingly and completely improperly.
It wasn’t until I began advanced education in biomechanics in my mid 20’s that my eyes were opened to the truth about foot bones, joints, muscles and mechanics. It took me a year or two to unwind the tension and patterns my feet had developed from the restrictions of the shoes I unknowingly subjected them to.
But after all of thar, my feet were free once again. 26 bones and 33 joints mobile once more. The way they are when we are first born. Over 100 muscles of possibility. Since that time I have worked with hundreds of feet on clients and alongside movement & wellness professionals in workshops. I’ve been fortunate to partner with incredible teachers like Stacey Lei Krauss.
Most people who come see me for Restorative Motion have not considered their feet as part of the issue. And neither have the other therapists they work with. There is something special about giving an adult toe exercises. They almost always smirk and even smile as they connect to their feet.
This is why I am leading Meet Your Feet on Friday 9/25/26 on Zoom at 1:30pm MST. If you can’t attend live, you can get the recording by registering. I hope you do so that you can meet and treat your feet.