Feet and shoes

I catch a lot of hell from people who think it's odd that I take pictures of my shoes, and my feet.
I take them from above, looking down at them.
Boots. Flip flops. Sandals. Skates. Barefoot. On the wood floor. Concrete. Sand.
It's not that I want to brag on my feet, which some have said kind of look like hands, but that's another story.
My shoes aren't that hip, either -- nephew Philip thinks I have really weird taste in shoes and laughs uncontrollably when he sees most things I wear, particularly the burgandy Keens.

Then, there's niece, Marisa, who thinks AL (Aunt Liz) is just weird about her feet. ... and has weird taste in shoes.
But when I take pictures of my feet, it's not necessarily about the shoes. It is a reminder about what they have done for me, physically, yes, but especially mentally.
With no experience, except a daily routine of walking one hour before work, everyday for a few months, a $20 pair of Adidas that I bought at Costco, and some encouragement from friends, my feet got me through to the finish line at the White Rock Half Marathon in December 2006.
I'll never forget those shoes -- I can't. A reminder is the split big toenail on the right foot, and the reason I got fitted for running shoes.
The next pair -- Asics -- got me through another half marathon, and my first and only full marathon. I'll never get rid of those shoes. They are the Circle 30 shoes you see on this blog.
My feet led the way to four other events, with three other pair of Asics, and a pair of Brooks.
And last week, I brought home my new pink Asics I wrote about Friday. They are sweet, and make my feet feel awesome. I don't think I'll ever run in any other pair again.
I have high hopes again for that new pair, and yes, my feet, too.