One of the things I did not expect when I made the decision to try out the barefoot lifestyle was the childlike sense of freedom that I have rediscovered. It has been an amazing journey, and one which is not yet over.
I have always been more athletic than the average person, but only by the faintest of hairs. I did a lot of walking growing up, and loved to bike and swim. These were countered by sedentary hobbies like reading and art and videogames, which prevented me from ever becoming particularly athletic. While I really enjoyed the physical activities I engaged in and always felt quite fit, running was a different beast. It always seemed like a chore, even for short distances. I was quite happy to walk, thank you very much.
After moving south to college and finding myself in the suburbs rather than the northwoods of Wisconsin, even the biking and swimming dwindled. Then college studies ramped up and the battle between activity and stillness swung heavily in one direction. Running became a real practice in torture, which I occasionally forced myself to try anyways. It never lasted very long.
One thing was certain, although I wouldn't recognize it as significant until later. When walking around on daily business it would never cross my mind to run. It was neither the time nor place, and I didn't have to stop and think about it to know this. It just never entered into the equation.
Fast forward to this past year when I moved north again, and I discovered that my time in Florida had allowed me to wear sandals so long that I could no longer stand the feel of regular shoes. During my seven years in the south the only time that I had worn close-toed shoes was when I flew across the country to visit family. Trying to go back to those tight, sweaty foot-cages was just not happening.
Unfortunately for me, Seattle's wet conditions made sandals less than ideal. I have always had particularly smelly feet in shoes, and this does not translate well to wet sandals. In my case it produces a similar effect to a closed shoe, only without trapping the aroma inside. I don't know many people to have this problem, but since I do, sandals simply weren't an option.
Determined not to return to conventional shoes, however, I tried out Vibram Five Fingers. These worked out better for me than open sandals primarily because less water gets in, less smells get out, baby-powder can help keep them dry, and they can survive regular assaults by the washing machine (and even dryer). So basically I would regularly sanitize the heck out of those poor Vibrams, something most people neglect to do with their regular shoes. I worked out really well, and I thought I would live happily ever after with my Vibram Five Fingers.
But of course, the story didn't end there.
After spending several months in my vibrams I began to notice how much stronger my calves and ankles were becoming. I noticed it mostly in the way the minor muscles there took longer to fatigue, and eventually stopped getting tired all together.
It fascinated me, and I began paying more attention to news and research about our feet and the way we move. At some point I discovered local barefooters and decided to see what it was like setting aside my Vibrams for a short while. Not at home, mind you. I'm always barefoot at home. This was venturing out into the wider world with no protection but your own reflexes and nature's original shoe leather.
It was like taking off a blindfold. A short while without shoes quickly progressed into only adopting shoes when I absolutely had too. There was a childlike feeling of wonder and connectedness which I had forgotten existed, one of the many sacrifices made on the altar of adulthood. But as the nerves in my feet woke up, so did the rest of me.
The more time I spend barefoot the more I find a sense of soulful energy, the more I feel a desire to simply move. It has progressed to the point that I now have to check myself in public. A simple task like walking to the grocery store has me wanting to break into a run. I get excited when the walk sign at street crossings starts to flash that warning orange hand: that means its okay to run to the other side now, right? Crossing a driveway that a car wants to turn into? Oh, let me just pick up the pace here so you can get in!
I have now been living the fully barefoot lifestyle for 5 or 6 months, and I feel myself chomping at the bit to take the next step. While I have never enjoyed running and never been particularly successful with it, I now find myself actually wanting to run. Rather than wanting the benefits of having already run, I am developing a deep desire to simply cover long distances with my feet.
One day I did an hour of speed walking to a destination outside of most people's walking-distance threshold, and I did it barefoot. The simple yet sublime pleasure of seeing sights come and go as the miles melt away is addicting enough on its own. Now add to that the extra layer of awareness that comes from having a second set of eyes in the soles of your feet, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about the feelings I had that day.
More recently I ran a half mile on gravel. It was mostly for curiosity's sake, to see how my feet would react to it. But although I was incredibly winded and panting like a dog, my feet and legs felt amazing. These things have only thrown gasoline on the fire that's been slowly building.
I want to run.
For the first time in my life I actually want to run, and for no other reason than the experience of the activity itself. No mile counting on a treadmill. No calorie burning calculations or weight-based obligation. Just the genuine feeling of miles passing beneath my feet.
I want to run, and I only hope that rest of my body can keep up with what my feet and brain are craving.
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