Telluride Times, May 28, 2026

“The human foot is a masterpiece of engineering and a work of art” — Leonardo da Vinci.

Those of you with foot issues will understand when I say to the world at large: Please, fellow bipeds, take care of your dogs. Considering the single square foot of real estate that your entire body is perched upon and what we do daily to these personal pedestals – or don’t do – it becomes clearer and clearer that care should be lavished – even thrust — upon these precious lower extremities.

And, honestly, I say this as someone who has never worn heels or any other shoes so uncomfortable they required sacrifice – early ski boots possibly being the sole (the plastic sole) exception.

An estimated 75 percent of the US population has dealt with foot problems at some point in their lives. Considering the 26 bones, 33 joints, 107 ligaments, 19 muscles and tendons and 125,000 sweat glands in each foot, it is a miracle they last as they do, especially when it is estimated that the average number of miles walked in a lifetime is 100,000.

That staggering number is even more over the top if one is or has been a nurse, postal worker, restaurant staff, warehouse worker, or urban delivery person. You can add nomad, pilgrim, farmer, or urbanite to that list, as well. Or restless COVID survivor: I have friends in NYC who woke up at 5 a.m. every day during the pandemic to walk between eight and ten miles in giant city loops in order to keep themselves sane during life without their workout routines. If you are a woman and wear heels, or a retired ballet dancer, then you’ve had even more to attend to.

My personal foot narrative begins with bunion surgery on my right foot 40 years ago, something I would not do again, if given the choice. I walked an hour and a half on pavement daily in New York for four years when I lived there, before the advent of super-sneakers. I waited tables for years after moving to the mountains and can attest to the number of nightly steps involved.

In the last ten years, mainly I have hiked, but have developed Morton’s neuromas, bunions in both feet, and some incipient heel pain. I’ve gotten rid of many shoes and boots I cherished and wear spongy looking things altered with insoles to make them as comfortable as they can be.

Biomechanically, I have a long second toe (sometimes associated with the Morton’s) and hyper mobile joints, which can wreak havoc if strengthening is not attended to. In thinking about the compressed nerves in neuromas, I now hypothesize that for years I scrunched my toes while skiing and that this set my feet up to do what they eventually did. Idiosyncrasies like the arch of the foot, the position of my spine over my hips, and lots of other subtle structural compensations accumulated over a lifetime also factored in.

Why all this personal detail? Consider it a cautionary tale for those who need one.

I have tried that surgery, custom insoles, injections, Shock Wave therapy, reflexology, acupuncture, Rolfing, castor oil, myofascial release, ice, heat, hot water, cold water. I loved zero drop sneakers (no drop from heel to toe) until I discovered that without enough arch support, the bunions got worse and then further aggravate the neuromas.

At the moment, I do a variety of foot stretches, manipulate and massage my own feet and stay open to new ideas. One thing I do not do is stop walking – because that is my greeting to the world every morning, and I will do whatever it takes to continue.

Most of us have seen the occasional old shoe or boot at a local mine or at the museum and, if you’re like me, especially if you suffered from foot pain, you marvel at the resilience of a foot being jammed into a hard, laced-up leather boot with a substantial heel and then walking around in it in the freezing cold and blazing heat year after year. You consider the pampered state of your own feet. You thank your lucky stars.

And yet there is growing evidence that many pampered modern feet have become weak — compressed by narrow shoes, flattened surfaces and lack of varied movement. Many traditional and indigenous cultures had stronger, wider feet through barefoot walking, squatting, climbing uneven terrain and wearing flexible footwear that ensure the foot would move naturally.

So. Walk on grass, use a foot roller, massage your feet, strengthen your ankles, mobilize your toes, and stretch your calves. Give your feet consistent attention starting now so that healing can begin!