The foot is the best piece of running equipment there is.
– Percy Cerutty
Ah, our lowly feet: shunned like lepers by some, abused by others, forgotten by the rest. If they’re not being squeezed into suffocating containers for hours each day, then they’re bound, writhing and naked, onto rigid slabs, the heels lifted provocatively, the toes crushed mercilessly, their contorted suffering visible to all. Our feet are the playthings of the fashion gods, and subjecting them to stylish tortures seems to be a price many pay all too willingly. If what we’re doing to our feet wasn’t so pernicious, it might be funny; can we blame them for being the source of so much discontent?
But what we wear on our feet is only part of the problem. For many of us, the feet are so removed from our everyday awareness they seem to exist only in the imagination, perhaps occupying a dusty corner of our consciousness as some barely-remembered, far-off land we once visited. Yet despite their physical and emotional remoteness, the feet are vital to both yoga and running, and we rely on them to guide and support us as they connect us energetically and mechanically to the ground. Our emotional and physical stability is dependent in large part on our ability to create connection through our legs, particularly through the feet.
That our culture acknowledges the significant role of the feet in creating a life of purpose is evident by the many commonly used foot-based metaphors: standing on our own two feet (independence); having both feet on the ground (stability, rootedness); knowing where you stand (confidence, decisiveness); getting off on the right foot (making a strong start, moving in the right direction); putting one foot in front of the other (moving forward with deliberation); putting your foot down (establishing boundaries). The list goes on, but these symbolic references all imply the necessity of using the feet to create a strong foundation for a meaningful and grounded life.
Even as our language shows the value, if mostly only symbolic, we place on our feet, history is full of examples that illustrate how ambivalent our relationship with the feet really is. They are the basis of the near mythological status attained by Ethiopian runner Abebe Bikila, who ran barefoot through the streets of Rome to win the 1960 Olympic marathon. Devout yogis prostrate before “the lotus feet of the guru,” believing those feet to be the repository of divine energy and a “terminal of magical and spiritual power and grace.” But for many centuries in Japan, women cultivated tightly bound, mutilated “lotus feet” in a belief that small feet were beautiful, even erotic. Some of us decorate and proudly display our feet; others see them as fonts of unsightly afflictions and a source of embarrassment, if not shame. In the Hindu social structure feet are symbolically “dirty”, and the servile or “Shudra” class is typically assigned to the lowest limb of the Cosmic Man to denote their low status. But just as the feet are vital to a fully functioning human being, so the Shudra class is important to the wellbeing of society. And so it goes . . . contradiction follows contradiction.
Given this bi-polar relationship, it shouldn’t be a surprise that runners obsess over nothing as much as their footwear. They believe that the right pair of shoes will save them from injury, protect them from the elements, elevate their status, shave minutes from their race times, and cushion them as they traverse rough terrain. But in yet another foot-related contradiction, a fringe group known as minimalists preaches that society’s accepted idea of footwear is absurd, that overbuilt and over-cushioned shoes are the source of misery and suffering for runners. Minimalists believe first and foremost in the architectural wonder and beauty of the foot, and in the foot’s ability, when used correctly, to absorb the punishment of running as it goes about its job of support and locomotion.
The foot/ankle complex is a focus of attention in this course because, as yoga teacher Tias Little tells us, “the foot is the foundation to the temple of the body.” But the feet are more than a foundation, they are the starting point of the body’s kinetic chain and the only point where the body interacts with the ground. Feedback from plantar sensors on the sole of the foot plays a central role in safe and effective locomotion, in stabilizing our pelvis, and in maintaining balance. The ankle is the first significant joint in the body, and as such it forms a crucial starting point for the “joint-by-joint approach”, a way of looking at the alternating mobility and stability needs of our body. As we will see, dysfunction in the foot or ankle initiates a biomechanical wave that flows through the body, usually with negative consequences. And because kinetic forces in the body are magnified significantly when we run, the opportunity for dysfunction is magnified as well.
The Listening Foot
Conceived by physical therapist and movement specialist Joanne Elphinston, the “listening foot” concept asks us to look beyond our limited ideas of the foot’s purpose and capacities. As runners, we typically think of our feet in mechanical terms: do the feet pronate or supinate? But our pre-occupation with the foot’s mechanical workings can prevent us from seeing the bigger picture, that of the foot as sense organ with a significant sensory and motor representation in the brain (only the hands and face have more representation by the sensory and motor homunculus of the brain). Elphinston wants runners to understand and appreciate the subtle but powerful dynamics of the feet, and the importance of the information the feet draw from their connection to the ground. It’s only then that we begin to understand the vast capabilities of the feet, which far surpass the somewhat mundane mechanistic viewpoint held by most runners. Looked at this way, the foot transcends its role as support and locomotion and morphs into a highly sensitive piece of running equipment.