Shedding My Shoes

Yesterday I discovered something wonderful.  I discovered that I don't have to wear shoes.  And I discovered that I'm not the only one who thinks this is wonderful.

As a child I wore shoes only when I had to.  I carried this behavior into my adult life, but my perception of when I had to wear shoes greatly changed over the years.  Up until yesterday, I'd take of my shoes in the house or at the yoga studio, at the beach or park, sometimes when hiking or when sitting on a plane or at my desk if I was feeling rebellious, but that was as far as I went.  

Life in shoes has  done a number on my feet.  It's limited my ability to walk (that is, I've had to cut back my pleasure-walking daily mileage to under 6 miles) and run, sent me to the podiatrist, put me in orthotics.  Blech.

Well, yesterday I was looking online for something to do this weekend.  Particularly, I was looking for someone who might want to go barefoot hiking with me.  Turns out there's a group of such hikers in my area.  There are also national (and probably international) groups for barefoot hiking, barefoot running, and barefoot living.  Lovely!

This site in particular gave me tons of information, including:

• It is healthy for your feet to go barefoot. 
• It is not against the law to go barefoot into any kind of establishment including restaurants.
• It is also not against any health department regulation.
• It is not against the law to drive barefoot.

Who knew?  Not me, certainly.  So yesterday I left my shoes at home.  I walked straight out the door barefoot, down the sidewalks, across the streets, to the coffee shop.  It was wonderful, despite the tenderness of my coddled soles.  I got to feel textures that I never get to feel.  My breathing opening up.  And many of the people I passed smiled at me. 

 A man with a brief case and a business suit even stopped me and asked about it.  I told him about my foot problems, that orthotics only seemed to be making things worse.  He said he was wearing orthotics, too.  "People do say we're not meant to wear shoes," he said, seeming to envy my freedom.  Then he got into his car, and I walked away.  But before I did, I saw him bend down.  I like to think he was taking off his shoes.