The surface on the top of your foot is as smooth as a baby’s bottom. The bottom of your foot is rough, cracked, ugly, and smells bad. It’s the bottom that matters though, because it shows us who we truly are. Are you someone who always wears shoes with no adventure or someone who goes through a whole summer with no shoes to feel what the world feels like? What kind of person am I?

My feet determine where I’ve been, where I am now, and where I am heading. Now, as a junior in high school, my feet have left gymnastics, my feet are at school and at work all day, and my feet are moving towards my hopes and dreams of going to BYU.

Every other day my feet drove me to gymnastics. They took me to train, to become a newer and better gymnast. Some days it was like heaven on earth, and other days it was hell. But my feet were there to support me. Whether I was doing a round-off, back handspring-full layout on the floor, jumping from one uneven bar to the next, or twitching my first two toes as I got nervous at a meet, my feet were constantly moving. My two feet interlocked with the arch of my right foot fitting in my left toe for a tight snug on the balance beam, naturally. As long as I keep or land my feet on that six inch beam, I was safe. My feet allowed me to become the gymnast I wanted to be. No one could take that grin away while I was talking about or doing gymnastics except for that doctor who insisted I quit. My feet didn’t let me down. They were more then willing to keep going, keep me fit, keep me enjoying it; my wrist were just not up to it anymore.

Now, three years later, I’m sitting in class, taking notes on subjects I will never use again in my life. I feel no pride in knowing the unit circle or the periodic trends on the periodic table. The other half of the day, I’m at work, standing for 5 hours straight. My bank account is not complaining, but my feet are. My feet are so out of shape; they have forgotten what it feels like to have fun. I feel sorrow in the thought of what I could be doing instead; hanging out with friends, snowmobiling, swimming, or even just laying in my bed. Still, three years later, I find myself crying after simply jumping on the trampoline. My whole body is up for it, my wrist have just let me down again.


It’s the thought that in a year and a half I can be out of high school and on my way to college, which keeps me going. My feet keep walking down the halls of Lone Peak to classes that can help my chances improve of getting into BYU. They keep driving to work so I have the money to go. If I keep going, maybe I will find my feet in brand new TOMS walking the campus of BYU.

What do my feet say about me? The bottom of my feet show my determination, my willingness, my service to the community, and my scars of my past gymnastics career. Although my feet show strengths, my feet show many weaknesses. Sometimes you will find them very lazy after many days of lingering thoughts down memory lane keeping me on my bed. Other times you might find grass stains on them from playing with my dog outside. It truly depends on when and where you look at my feet. I wish I could still say that you will see definite muscles definition in my feet, but it’s time to move on, time to find a new purpose for my feet.