At Disney World today it rained like crazy just as we got there, so I spent the vast majority of the day barefoot. This was, how should I put this? Effing awesome.
The surfaces I walked on were a veritable treasure trove of textures and temperatures -- cobblestones, smooth polished chipseal, wood, rubber, glass, exposed aggregate concrete... it was a feast for the soles, and it was warm and soaking wet to boot, so I got so splash in puddles. There was extra super bad ass bonus magic in this trip to the Magic Kingdom.
The place is immaculate, so I had zero fear of stepping on anything. There's an army of smiling, theme-dressed people with brooms and dust pans keeping any significant debris from collecting. More about them later.
I was the ONLY person barefoot, which mystified me at the time. God, it was so NICE. Especially given the rainy conditions, why didn't it occur to a single other human soul there (and there were a sh1t load) to whip off their shoes and enjoy the rain? I'm baffled, still. What a powerful force social mores must be about "needing" to wear shoes. The only time I put them on was in the bathrooms and restaurant.
About those sweeper people or, "cast members," I was told once, by a friendly older lady in Frontierland that she was very sorry, but had to ask me to please put my shoes back on for safety reasons. I just shrugged and whipped out my flip flops until she was out of sight, at which time I whipped them right back off. What safety reasons? So I don't step on something dangerous? Isn't that your job, anyway? Maybe so someone doesn't step on my toes, or I don't stub a toe and sue them. What a stupidly litigious society we live in. Anyway.
I was also taking mental notes on the route of the Disney Princess Half, though I'd never in a million years put in writing that I'm wanting to run that race. Or anything like that.
This was kind of a first for me. I'm didn't get into barefoot running intending to become obsessed with my feet (and other people's feet too, I will not lie) or a weird eccentric. I may be turning into one or the other, and if that's the case, then so be it.
The surfaces I walked on were a veritable treasure trove of textures and temperatures -- cobblestones, smooth polished chipseal, wood, rubber, glass, exposed aggregate concrete... it was a feast for the soles, and it was warm and soaking wet to boot, so I got so splash in puddles. There was extra super bad ass bonus magic in this trip to the Magic Kingdom.
The place is immaculate, so I had zero fear of stepping on anything. There's an army of smiling, theme-dressed people with brooms and dust pans keeping any significant debris from collecting. More about them later.
I was the ONLY person barefoot, which mystified me at the time. God, it was so NICE. Especially given the rainy conditions, why didn't it occur to a single other human soul there (and there were a sh1t load) to whip off their shoes and enjoy the rain? I'm baffled, still. What a powerful force social mores must be about "needing" to wear shoes. The only time I put them on was in the bathrooms and restaurant.
About those sweeper people or, "cast members," I was told once, by a friendly older lady in Frontierland that she was very sorry, but had to ask me to please put my shoes back on for safety reasons. I just shrugged and whipped out my flip flops until she was out of sight, at which time I whipped them right back off. What safety reasons? So I don't step on something dangerous? Isn't that your job, anyway? Maybe so someone doesn't step on my toes, or I don't stub a toe and sue them. What a stupidly litigious society we live in. Anyway.
I was also taking mental notes on the route of the Disney Princess Half, though I'd never in a million years put in writing that I'm wanting to run that race. Or anything like that.
This was kind of a first for me. I'm didn't get into barefoot running intending to become obsessed with my feet (and other people's feet too, I will not lie) or a weird eccentric. I may be turning into one or the other, and if that's the case, then so be it.