| A Word Edgewise
by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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NO WONDER FEET GET SORE
Please, don't step on my feet! They are as touchy as a mouth full of rotten teeth at an ice cream party. I just thought I realized the potential for hurt in those body parts, until I looked at a skeletal picture and counted more than thirty bones in a foot. Even if the bones didn't hurt there is that complicated web of muscles and ligaments that bind the bones together, all with the possibility of aching.
When you walk or run, each foot is submitted to a force of five or six times your total weight--oh to be a light weight. No wonder mine hurt after all these years of such stress. Even without the torture imposed for style, feet are bound to suffer.
Shoes were first worn strictly for protection. The Hittites who lived on rocky terrain, designed and wore bootlike shoes with toes curled up to protect their feet. Egyptians, Greeks and Babylonians had open toed sandals for comfort, comfort and protection were the purposes then. By the mid 1300s, someone with imagination forgot the comfort part. Rich Europeans wore, for special occasions, narrow shoes three feet long with needlelike toes which were supposed to keep witches away. The toes had to be chained to the shins to keep them out of the way for walking.
Some days I get off on the wrong foot--but I didn't really know that I was letting bad luck enter the house. The ancient Romans thought it an ill-omen to enter a house with your left foot first. They even had footmen stationed at the door to see that no one misstepped.
About five years ago when I was complaining of foot problems, my coach son-in-law advised me to get some sneakers, or shoes made primarily for sports wear. He said, "Big name brand people spend millions determining shoes that support and protect feet. They should know what helps." I took his advice and paid more for a pair of "tennis shoes" than I had ever paid. I guess they helped. All I know for sure is that my feet have grown more than half a size since then--which makes my dress shoes torture--and I can still walk without help. Actually, since reaching my mature height, my feet have grown nearly two sizes. They may grow all my life.
It has never been the style in America to bind feet as the Chinese once did, making a grown woman have a foot three or four inches long, but we have used other forms of foot torture. Shoes with pointed toes, flat toes, high heels, are attractive, but not designed with comfort in mind. They seem primarily for the purpose of encouraging bunions. I wonder if Cinderella found glass slippers comfortable?
Especially for athletes, the Achilles tendon is very vulnerable to injury. That unprotected tendon attaches the calf muscle to the heel bone, puts spring in the step and helps one stand on tiptoe. Because it is an unprotected tendon, unlike others which have protective coverings, it got its name from Achilles of Greek mythology. When the warrior Achilles was an infant, his mother wanting to make him immortal, immune to wounds, dipped him in the River Styx. She held him by the heel for the dipping, therefore the heel never touched the water, so it was his one vulnerable spot. Years later, in battle, Achilles died when he was shot with an arrow in the heel.
Maybe I should move to one of the islands where bare feet are acceptable, like Hawaii. No wonder they call it Paradise. Walking barefoot on sandy beaches sounds like perfect comfort. With the abundant crop of grassburrs this year, barefeet outside the house, are out. My dad used to go barefoot except in the very coldest weather. He and I raced to see which one would leave off shoes the longest in the fall--school interfered, so he won. He had such great bunions that no shoe was comfortable, and he could walk in grassburrs that stopped the rest of us. Occasionally, a sticker would pull off in his foot and he would get me to pick it out with a needle.
The man who put remedies for foot ailments in the minds of generations of people was Dr. Scholl. He believed in advertising his product when he established his own company in 1907. His motto was, "Early to bed and early to rise, work like Hell and advertise." Dressed in a long frock coat he would walk into a shoe store, pull the skeleton of a foot from his pocket, toss it on the counter and give a lively lecture on the anatomy of the foot. He sold patches for corns, arch supports, and correcting devices for bunions. His name still means foot remedies.
With all these aches and pains--and I didn't even mention toe nails--I'm very thankful that I have feet that allow me to walk even yet, and that I am able to feel a little pain in them--mind, I said little . I've never painted my toe nails, used fancy foot creams, nor had many foot massages, but there may be a way to add beauty to even well used feet: "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" (Romans 10:15)