Brounstein 1

Jordyn Brounstein
Ms. Gardner
Honors English 10, 4th Period
27 January 2015
A Run Through the Past
My name is Jordyn. I have two feet, each containing twenty-six bones, thirty-three joints,
and over a hundred muscles. Over the course of many years, I have grown to appreciate these
somewhat absurd appendages through my love of movement, despite the hardships that were
included.
I think its kinda funny how no matter how much I ran around my little city, I just kept
going--and going--and going. I remember being an oversized, clumsy toddler, with all the
energy in the world. I would sprint around the playground in my rustic looking preschool, fall
systematically around the stage of my old dance studio, and kick a soccer ball to my best friends,
until the moment when I would eventually fall flat on my face.
As years passed, my feet took me to an array of camps for girls around my age. I
consistently would sing at the top of my lungs every morning as we traveled on many hikes
throughout mystical woods, and no matter how tired I, or my new friends, became, we just kept
trekking forward. IM ALIVE, AWAKE ALERT ENTHUSIASTIC!! (clap! clap!) Eventually
my educational journey led me across the north western part of the continental U.S, where I
made my way through Yellowstone National Park and up to Mount Rushmore. Despite the long
car rides, repetitive tune of Da moose! Da moooose!, and a very low stash of food that made
my stomach growl for hours on end, my feet felt excited to be touching the new and foreign
soils. Running felt more and more like a blessing as time went by.

Brounstein 2
When entering middle school, I quickly realized that my idea of running was not the
same as those who claimed to be Physical Education Specialists. To me, running could be a
short sprint, a long jog, or anything inbetween. The only thing that mattered was that I was
enjoying it. In what I liked to call, Physical Hell Itself, running was not enjoyable: it was
punishment. I often felt insecure over the fact that my large feet werent able to provide me with
the speed and strength needed for the class. This fulfilling act of movement no longer amused
me as I suddenly realized I was one of the worst runners in the abundantly physique school. My
running days were behind me, and I learned to accept that.
It didnt take me long to understand that my constant clumsiness was due to my fastgrowing body. I mean, most first graders didnt fit into a size six shoe in women's, most second
graders didnt fit into a size eight, most third graders into a nine and a half, and most sixth
graders into a size eleven. My mother once told me that Great Dames were born with the feet
that was proportional to their adult body; until they grew into their right proportions, they were
doomed to the repetitive motion of tripping, falling, and making abrupt contact with the ground.
As a child, I used to say to myself, You just have puppy feet! Youll grow into them! It was
true: I did grow. However, much like the Great Dames, as I grew older I slowly lost my urge for
the annual amble to the youthful park down the street.
When reflecting and observing my feet, I came to the conclusion that my feet were
bizarre. I used to go through a pair of shoes in a month, because they didnt fit anymore; not
because they were worn out like most kids shoes were. When I was in the third grade, I got this
weird toe infection that made it difficult to put my tight-fitting tennis shoes on. Instead of
buying a new pair of shoes, my dad just cut a hole where my infected toe lay. For a week I
roamed around the schoolyard with my toes hanging out of my shoe, and as a youthful ball of

Brounstein 3
energy, I didnt care about how my feet looked to others. As time passed and comments such as,
Oh look! Bigfoots on the loose! and, Watch out! The giants gonna flatten you with her big
foot! my insecurities crashed into my mind and with it came a few years of constant recognition
of my feet and feet in general.
As I have grown to be proportional to my obscenely large feet, I have come to realize that
everyone has their own unique pair of feet that they had to grow into as well. Their twenty toes
are uniquely individualized to suit their owner and provide a lifetime of active motions. Some
feet are hairy; some feet are smooth. Some feet are long, while others are very wide. Some feet,
like my own, obtain toes that are ordered from tallest to shortest, yet some feet have toes that are
taller than the big toe. These unique traits make us, as a population, different from one
another. Different may be scary, but different is also good.
My name is Jordyn. I have two feet, each containing twenty-six bones, thirty-three joints,
and over a hundred muscles. Over the course of many years ,I have grown to understand how
something as simple as the human foot can show the diversity and uniqueness of the entire
human body.