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Aiden Kjeldsen

Mrs. Gardner

Hon. English 10, 6

20 January 2017

A Foot or a Mile

It was a few simple steps, she said demonstrating on her shoes, first you cross them, then you

make a loop with one of them, then lastly the bunny goes around the tree and threw the hole. If you

follow these steps you will not fly head over heels by tripping on your shoe laces.

I tried on my black Vans for ten minutes. I repeated the steps constantly in my head trying to

remember the steps my cousin, Hannah taught me. I finally did it, being so proud of myself I walked

around testing their strength. They came untied almost immediately, so I tied them again but this time

tighter.

This was the very first time that I could go anywhere without asking my mom, Whitney for help,

this was the first time I could go outside on my own, that was the first time out of many more I laced up

my vans to walk. Feet are like a car, they take you to the destination your heart desires. The engine of

the car is your heart which fuels the vehicle and moves it forward. But ultimately the feet carry out the

command.

You see these, said my mother gesturing at my feet with her hand, these will take you everywhere on

are trip.

I stared down looking and wondering, how much walking would it take for my feet to stop

working? Perhaps it was five mile, maybe ten? no that was to many so I settled with eight, but that was if

I was barefoot what about if a had shoes on? There was no sole purpose to my arguing with myself,

because they only way to figure out was test them out.
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That was the day before our first travel to Europe: June 7 2008. That would be my first time out

of California, ready to see another country. Even though I was young, I believed with my new Heelys

shoes I got on May 31, I could walk more than anybody else in my family. I imagined what I would see

and where my feet would take me in this foreign land for seven weeks. I laced up my shoes, ready for the

great adventure that awaited. If the shoes are the wheels of the car then the trunk is the mind were

memories are stored. This was the first time I got to store a travel memory in the trunk of my car and

using my wheels to transport me there.

The sun was hot on the back of our necks in Washington D.C. back in the spring break of 2011.

Like most of our travels, we walked everywhere. Once again I forgot to pack running shoes and I was

stuck in my worn out Vans, at this point cardboard would have been more comfortable to walk on.

Through out our other adventures we had never walked so much, this was where I almost met my limits.

Mom, can we please please can we stop I am so tired of walking! I panted walking with

my brother Lucas and Gavin, behind my fast paced parents.

We are almost to the Lincoln Memorial. My mom replied in an energetic tone.

This annoyed me because, how could she be so happy walking for almost ten miles. Was the end

goal of all of this walking worth it? Why cant I choose what we do? These thought passed through my

mind as I trudged along waiting to see what awaited us. We finally arrived and as the memorial came into

view I thought to myself, yes this was worth it. The giant marble sculpture of my favorite president filled

my vision and my thoughts. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

That experience gave the answer to the age old question, Is it the journey or the destination that

is important? It is both, because the journey enriches the experience of the end goal. The journey gives

it further depth and meaning, since the memories were made on the journey. The destination would have
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less value if one took the easy way to get there. It gives a sense of accomplishment and purpose to the

destination, and the destination gives purpose to the journey. I still believe this today- enjoy every part of

any journey one embarks on in life- because doing it the right way gives a sense of accomplishment and

worth.

My feet have taken me to new heights, new experiences, and new depths previously undiscovered

by me. Feet can walk forever; however, one must be careful with them. On one such occasion I was not

careful and I learned my lesson.

It was the summer of 2012 in lake Garda Italy. The bed and breakfast we were staying at had a

large old wooden dock on the lake. It was a hazard to step on without shoes, because the chance to get

splinters were quite high. One nice morning I decided to take a walk on the dock barefoot. I, previously

never having a splinter, saw no harm in what I was doing. The dock was wet and I slipped on it lodging a

1 inch piece of wood in my foot. The pain was excruciating and I had to hop back to the room to get the

splinter out. My dad got it out using tweezers he had on his Swiss Army knife.

When I now walk, I always remember what happened when I was not careful. I still walk

barefoot sometimes, but I make sure to tread carefully. This experience scared me, because with this

minor incident I was not able to walk for a little while. What if I broke my foot? What if I broke a leg?

How long would it be before I could walk? In a medical book that I read in doctor's office once stated,

A subtly fracture to the limb should take an estimated six to eight weeks to recover. I never want an

injury to hold be back, from doing something or seeing something I had never done before. With a car

one need to take care of the vehicle, so as one needs to take care of their feet and keep them safe. So they

can run for an extended period of time.

My feet can do many useful things. They make me able to walk, to run, and to stand. Every

place my shoe has touched it represents a mark or memory of me being there. Every new day and every
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new foot fall are a new page in my story that is about to be written. Like every time you hear the sound of

the car turning on you know you are going somewhere to do something. Similarly, every time you hear

the sound of feet tramping on the earth, you know they are doing something or going somewhere. But, of

course the car or body could not be moved without its wheels: the human feet.