Foot Fetish

Because I have no saturday night social life and my children were all busy staring at the digger we currently have sitting in our back garden, I decided to be brave and scroll through my Instagram photo gallery.

Last week marked the four month anniversary of our arrival in Sydney and since I’ve been back I have found it too sad to look back at my London photos. It just upsets me and makes me ridiculously homesick for my life back in the UK.

Anyway before you leave thinking this is just a depressing blog post about how much I miss London, it actually isn’t …

As I started to scroll back it dawned on me how many photos I take of my feet.

I don’t even particularly like feet. I hate touching other people’s feet, don’t really like touching my own and although I am a huge fan of the pedicure, I detest the process of actually getting pedicured feet. I don’t like anyone touching my feet. I do however love shoes, they are my retail weakness and I have a vast collection of them. My babies.

The only thing I can think of is that as a runner I’m quite proud of my feet. They do amazing things for me and maybe it stems from that? Maybe that’s why I spend so much time snapping away at my tootsies?

However when I got to my very first photo, that according to the Instagram Gods I uploaded 77 weeks ago, I found this.

Naaawwww, my very first Instagram photo. The first of 1745 of them.

I’m a little alarmed at how clean that rug is actually. It’s now fifty shades of grey (with some dog spew and who knows what else mooshed into it), but there you go. When I joined Instagram the first thing I wanted to share with the world was my left foot.

So I can’t blame my running for my foot narcissism because I hadn’t quite caught the running bug back then. The sad thing about this photo is that I haven’t worn those shoes since it was taken, I might just dig them out next week if it ever stops raining. They’ll be great with my house the way it is, moated by mud thanks to our pool being built in a deluge.

I was also a little alarmed at how many new running shoes appeared in my gallery … I’m like a walking free advertisement for Asics.

My feeties did quite a lot of travel in 77 weeks. They were photographed on the slopes in Austria, at the Greenwich Meridian in London, poolside in Dubai, in a hammock in Thailand, at the Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris and of course in Sydney.

They also got tattooed!

Twice!

There were far too many running injury photos.

But I do like that I mostly managed to get my physio to only use pink kinesiology tape. Because even if you can hardly walk, let alone run, you still match. It’s important you know.

There were photos that made me really sad and that made my heart hurt. Oh boy I miss London,

And others that cracked me up. Like my London Underground tube shoe competition (which for the record I still absolutely believe I won).

So there you have it. A blog about my feet … My feet that shit me when they’re injured, that I love and admire when they carry me 25kms in one run, that look pretty in all the expensive shoes I’m so drawn to and that I hate being touched.

Feet of awesome. They deserve 93 Instagram photos don’t they?