If you give a friend ‘Born to Run’
If you give a friend the book Born to Run, he’s going to stop wearing shoes. If he stops wearing shoes, he’s going to go grocery shopping in his bare feet…
That’s the foot of my newest recruit, headed to Kroger without shoes. The sock line gives it all away. You can tell his stomper hasn’t seen the sun this summer, but a few barefoot runs, a little melanin and he’ll look like a natural.
Playing catch up
So far it’s been a great summer for barefooting—so great in fact, that I have neglected blogging. I appreciate all those who have checked in and asked how I was doing. Here’s a recap:
Free at last!
My youngest child took off his shoes after the last day of preschool and hasn’t put them on since. That’s a full six weeks without shoes. I’m anticipating a tough transition when he returns to the shod world in August.
Kicking it around town
We’ve been all over in our bare feet, including a museum, a baseball game, shopping and out to eat. My kids’ friends are often with us and they usually end up barefoot, too.
Swim. Bike. Run.
I finished my second triathlon. I participated as part of a relay team, as well as an individual. It was during this race last year that I broke my foot and ended up hobbling across the finish line. I am happy to report that this year I sprinted across the finish on two healthy feet.
Of course, no one wore shoes for the swim portion of the race. I laughed at all the normally shod folks gingerly walking down to the water like they were crossing a tile floor covered in Legos. I wore cycling shoes for the bike portion—I have yet to try barefoot biking—but after the ride, I tore off those shoes and hit the trail. Some people actually thought I had just forgotten to pack my running shoes and was running barefooted, so I didn’t have to forfeit the race.
The Shoe Police
Over the weekend, I had my first encounter in a long time with the Shoe Police. I was out with my husband, celebrating our half anniversary (yes, we do that), when I was told by the server that I had to put on my shoes. Really?! Normally, I politely resist and am eventually allowed to continue what I am doing without anything on my feet. However, not wanting to embarrass my husband who hates a scene, I did not argue. Instead, I simply stood up and walked out.
And now you’re caught up.