Barefoot Science: Part 2 -- The Reality

In a recent post, Barefoot Science, I sung the praises of going barefoot thanks to an article on the New York Magazine site entitled You Walk Wrong. The author laments our deteriorating podiatric health as a result of being swaddled in shoes since infancy. The solution? Go barefoot, of course.

So I've taken the cure, but I can't take it very often. As healthy and Bohemian as going barefoot may be, it's more difficult than one might imagine to spend any length of time barefoot if you're anywhere but at home, the beach, or a park. That's because there's a lot of Barefoot Bashing ingrained into our society.

With the exception of Summertime at a resort town near the beach, most businesses -- especially restaurants -- don't want your patronage if you're barefoot, even though the health codes regarding footwear generally refer to the employees of a given establishment, not the customers.

So I've begun an evening ritual of taking a mile or so walk -- yes, barefoot -- around the neighborhood. It actually began as therapy. I managed to injure myself a few weeks ago stepping on a pernicious pine cone in a dark driveway. I twisted my ankle, but injured my foot -- if that makes any sense. If I were to guess, I'd suspect a stress fracture in the fourth or fifth tarsal of my left foot. I say suspect because I haven't been to the doctor. It's sore....a bit, but it didn't swell and I can walk on it. If I sit for any length of time, I'm hobbling the first dozen steps or so before it feels okay again.

Amazingly, it feels the best during and after a barefoot walk. It's also a great way to see the neighborhood and meet some of the neighbors. They all wave and smile, but I notice some of them give me sideways looks -- like, What's with this lunatic wandering through the streets in his bare feet? It makes me wonder if they're polite just because they're afraid that some unknown shoeless freak might just wig out on them if they piss him off.

I've had several people feel it their duty to point out the "Ick" factor regarding the plethora of unmentionable things it's possible to step in whilst shoeless. Fair enough, but I have the utmost faith in my own skin's ability to protect me from nearly anything other than glass and rusty nails. Really, unless there's an open wound, the skin keeps out just about everything nasty whether it's on your head or the soles of your feet.

So I will continue to push the boundaries of barefootism despite being treated almost like a streaker from the 70s. Remember them? They'd duck into a secluded spot to disrobe, then explode into the public view to the shock and amusement of all before disappearing to re-dress themselves and then blend back in as if nothing had happened -- pretty much the story of my barefoot life, except I don't think I'll incur a citation for public indecency (unless I happen to be sporting a nasty hangnail).