No Category selected A Girl and her Feet

    A Girl and her Feet


    Once upon a time, there was a drunken girl with great shoes and pretty feet. The loved girl loved beer and shoes, particularly saucy, sexy high heeled shoes. While her feet were never comfortable in such shoes, footwear completes an outfit, so the feet tried not to complain.

    The girl would take her feet drinking and dancing. She never meant to be abusive to her feet by disregarding their feelings; it was the alcohol. The more she danced the more her feet would complain about the discomfort of the saucy, sexy shoes. The more she drank, the more her feet decided to rebel and cause the girl to stumble. Sometimes the feet would try to send early, subtle hints in the form of small missteps here and there, but the girl was too busy drinking and dancing to notice anything was amiss. The feet regretted having to send a cleared indication of their dissatisfaction, but what else were they to do, she wasn’t paying attention to their needs.

    Before she knew it, the girl was staggering off balance while being escorted out of the bar, by the elbows. The feet had tried to gently warn her of their discontent. They were not proud. It was too bad it had to come to a trip, a wobble and an ungraceful fall to convince the bouncers that they needed to persuade the girl to go home and put her feet up.

    These days, the girl and the feet live a different life. The feet don’t go out dancing anymore because the girl doesn’t go out drinking anymore. They don’t find themselves stuffed into pretty shoes, which they can’t complain about. The girl and the feet are happiest when they are bare and second happiest when they are in running shoes.

    The heroine of our story loves to take her feet out running. When the feet feel the running shoes slip over them, they get so excited. The feet love to run. They love to go slow and they love to go fast. A short run is ok, but the farther they travel the better.

    They are so grateful for the girl’s decision to stop staggering and start scampering. They are so proud of their accomplishments. They enjoy the daily run, but what they love most is to compete. Race day is their favorite day. All the kilometers logged on their training runs pay off on race day. Early runs, late night runs, hot runs, cold run and wet runs all lead to the starting line. In the moments before the horn sounds and the clock starts, the feet are as antsy as racehorses with their noses at the gate. The feet are high with the anticipation of performing.

    If The Sports Network or Outdoor Life Network ever aired a segment about the hardworking duo, viewers would learn that during a race or a long training run, the feet do suffer. They do, become sore and tired, but rarely do they complain. After seeing the girl’s feet, a woman once asked with disgust and alarm, “Oh! Look at your feet! Is all that running about worth it?”

    The feet are calloused and blistered. There are blackened toenails and there are toenails completely missing. The girl never takes her feet for a pedicure anymore, as they have worked long and hard to make those callouses and it would be a setback to have anyone soften and remove them.

    The feet are no longer pretty and the days of saucy, sexy shoes have come and gone, as has the dancing and drinking. The girl’s daughter encourages her mother to wear her feet like trophies and to be proud of every flawed inch of them, as their efforts are award worthy.

    To the disgusted lady…Yes, it is worth every ache, pain and blood blister.

    These happy feet were born to run.


    1. Well written Christa. Thanks for sharing such a private part of your life. Keep up the amazing writing. You were born to inspire!

    2. Well done Christa. In sharing your story it makes each of us realize that everyone stumbles and falls. The inspiration and courage comes from getting back up again.

    3. I just found your blog…it was an omen! when I opened the Irun mag. and read your history, I HAD to learn more about your story. We share a “past” which is still my “present”. So reading of your antics and journey, I pray will someday set me free too.

      Don’t stop! You are helping without knowing how much!

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