For twenty years, I treated my feet like afterthoughts. I’d spend hundreds on running shoes, massage guns, and recovery drinks, then shuffle around my house in flat, paper-thin flip-flops that offered about as much support as a sheet of cardboard. My heels ached every morning. My arches burned after long coaching sessions. And I just accepted it as the price of an active life. Then a physical therapist friend looked at my battered, unsupported feet during a post-workout evaluation and said something that stuck with me: “You spend all this time strengthening your body, and you walk around on surfaces…