Footprints in the sand

I have always prided myself on having perfect feet. How can you argue with someone when he tells you he has perfect feet? You can’t do it, it can’t be done! The rest of me I’d consider as being so-so, but my feet, now there’s true perfection! Imagine my surprise when I realized that my greatest attribute, that which has carried me through so many races might not be so perfect after all.

There I was at home after a long run wondering why my right foot hurt all the time and my left foot never did. Later that day while taking a shower it hit me like a ton of bricks. My feet aren’t perfect after all, they’re different. They aren’t even the same feet. Keep in mind that I realize that like most people I have a set of feet which includes one left foot and one right foot, except when I dance. I noticed that my pinky toe and the two bigger digits next to it on my right foot are shorter than their brothers on the left. To correct this mirror discrepancy I suppose I could cut off the ends of the longer toes. Wait; there must be a better way. I think I’ll just leave them alone and pretend that they’re still perfect. Like the adorable child that grows up to become a hellion I will always remember the good old days when my toe children and I frolicked on the beach with the sand flowing evenly through my perfectly symmetrical size 8.5 4E hobbit feet.

Like two 5 headed lepers I will hid my feet from view with a veil of Asics Kayano II low cut socks and New Balance 758 running shoes, or equivalent. Lest I forget, some future paleontologist might find footprints and surmise that two individuals of similar height and weight, traveling in the same direction, one missing his left foot and the other his right…

Thanks for reading!