Three-mile barefoot walk

Discussion in 'Barefoot' started by Booga, Aug 1, 2006.

  1. Booga

    Booga Member

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    I'm not a full-time barefooter. In fact, I hardly qualify as a part-time barefooter.

    At thirty-four, I'm at least a decade past the age where going without shoes will be smiled at as a sign of youthful naivete. Walking barefooted into a store, say, I'd much more likely be taken for a drunk or some other kind of fringe character. Unless I'm at home or poolside, my feet stay respectably smothered--er, covered.

    But because I live in Phoenix, where the sidewalks are generally clean and (at night, anyway) just warm enough to feel like a radiator on low, I can only refuse my feet's desire so long. Once, twice each month, I have to leave my shoes at home and walk--somewhere, convention be damned. Usually, I settle for the Tempe Town Lake, where I'm likely to be mistaken for one of the boaters who stand shoeless along the banks.

    But the other night, I grabbed at the chance for a longer shoeless excursion. I had spent the evening at the house of a friend, who lives three miles from me. My friend, being even older than I am, tends to turn in at nine-thirty, and pushed me out the door at nine. The night was warm, but not crushingly hot. The streets seemed empty of anyone likely to gawk or judge. On a whim, I took off my shoes, tied them by the laces to one of the belt-loops of my shorts, slipped off my socks, and put them in my cargo pockets. My friend lives in a safe area, so I left my car parked across the street from his house, figuring I'd walk back for it early next morning in time for work.

    And I began walking home, on naked feet.

    Nothing could have pleased my feet more than that warm, clean sidewalk. They felt cozy and well cared-for--but not confined, as they might have in thick wool socks. As each foot hit the ground in turn, it made a light, sharp slap that I found very satisfying. The pavement seemed designed for them, being too smooth to chafe, but just rough enough to be interesting. Writing that my feet felt as though they were walking on a hard, straight cow's tongue probably won't do much to recommend the experience--but there it is, anyway.

    In patches along the sidewalk, and in the spots where the sidewalk gave way to asphalt, my feet caught some gravel. After a few corners, I worked out a method for minimizing the discomfort. By holding each foot a centimeter or so above the ground and sweeping it forward, I could clear a safe landing patch. Any witnesses might have wondered at seeing a barefooted goose-stepper, but at least my feet didn't get cut.

    I made it home in a little over an hour--more or less what the trip would have taken had I worn shoes. I checked my soles: a little dirt, but nothing a good minute's scrubbing didn't fix. In two or three places, hard pieces of gravel had left small, red dents, but I had managed to avoid glass.

    Good stuff. Went to bed feeling very relaxed.
     
  2. RawAndNatural

    RawAndNatural Member

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    Thanks for sharing. I went on my first bare foot hike on a three mile nature trail today. Your titile of a three-mile barefoot walk emediately caught my eye. I've been barefooting around the small farm here, but my feet have some toughening up to do.

    I found your dragging your feet method of clearing for your step to be interesting.
     
  3. Boogabaah

    Boogabaah I am not here

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    oooh i love warm evening summer sidewalks! the sidewalks here are HORRIBLE! it's the one thing i really miss about cali.. decent no gravel, no sticking up, no uneven or crappy sidewalks
     

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