I remember the day mom put me on a pair of sandals and made me accompany her to the groceries store. I was 3 years old and I was horrified of seeing my toes peeking out the front end of those "trospid" shoes. (Yeah, /tross/peed/, a new word you'll find indispensable once I tell you the meaning).
Maybe I had never liked feet and barefootness, or maybe those sandals were a point of inflection (for bad) that made me hate feet and barefootness for the next 20 years. Other facts also contributed, I guess. I never saw my own feet as being beautiful. When I was younger I had really flat feet and even if that has corrected itself overtime I still think my feet are a bit too big. I use an Euro 44 size, which is like an US 11?. It's not that big for a guy, but I'd be happier if it was a 42.
But this post is not about how I dislike myself but how I learned to like myself and to like the way I am. When I was like 23 I started writing a novel for my enjoyment. I finished it a couple of years ago but I doubt I will ever be properly edited. The story told about a renegade girl called Nima (Nee-mah, which later I learned it's a Farsi name for boys ) that lived in the woods separating two enemy countries, and she worked as a smuggling guide for people who wanted to cross from one country to the other. To give her a romantic touch I made her walk barefoot. At some point the story explains she quit wearing shoes as a way to break up with her past.
The writing took almost 10 years (as I told you, I'm not a pro, just an aficionado) but I used to think a lot about Nima and how she moved around. I guess that started to modify the way I saw barefootness. I started to accept it and I started to accept myself. Now I can't remember when was the last time I was on sleepers at home, much to my wife's annoyment (although she has also accepted it almost completely).
I guess life gives you different point of views as you grow up. You learn to accept yourself, and to don't give a dime about what others may think about things you believe in. I don't mean it's easy or that it comes by itself; you really have to wish for a change. You change your mind little by little and finally one day you dare to step forward on your convictions, and when the others ask why your answer is 'why not?'
I admit, however, that did not happen to me that easily. I already explained how I got into minimalist running (you can see an excerpt in my profile page), but coming to barefoot running took some time and I hid it from friends and family for quite a time. I didn't even practiced it regularly because it wasn't easy to find places away of scary stares. It wasn't until last Christmas when I decided to really go for it, which can be understood as new step in my way of self-acceptance.
Last but not least, feet are mechanical marvels of the Nature, are mechanically wonderful! So why crampling them under heavy shoes?
Run long and prosper.
Maybe I had never liked feet and barefootness, or maybe those sandals were a point of inflection (for bad) that made me hate feet and barefootness for the next 20 years. Other facts also contributed, I guess. I never saw my own feet as being beautiful. When I was younger I had really flat feet and even if that has corrected itself overtime I still think my feet are a bit too big. I use an Euro 44 size, which is like an US 11?. It's not that big for a guy, but I'd be happier if it was a 42.
But this post is not about how I dislike myself but how I learned to like myself and to like the way I am. When I was like 23 I started writing a novel for my enjoyment. I finished it a couple of years ago but I doubt I will ever be properly edited. The story told about a renegade girl called Nima (Nee-mah, which later I learned it's a Farsi name for boys ) that lived in the woods separating two enemy countries, and she worked as a smuggling guide for people who wanted to cross from one country to the other. To give her a romantic touch I made her walk barefoot. At some point the story explains she quit wearing shoes as a way to break up with her past.
The writing took almost 10 years (as I told you, I'm not a pro, just an aficionado) but I used to think a lot about Nima and how she moved around. I guess that started to modify the way I saw barefootness. I started to accept it and I started to accept myself. Now I can't remember when was the last time I was on sleepers at home, much to my wife's annoyment (although she has also accepted it almost completely).
I guess life gives you different point of views as you grow up. You learn to accept yourself, and to don't give a dime about what others may think about things you believe in. I don't mean it's easy or that it comes by itself; you really have to wish for a change. You change your mind little by little and finally one day you dare to step forward on your convictions, and when the others ask why your answer is 'why not?'
I admit, however, that did not happen to me that easily. I already explained how I got into minimalist running (you can see an excerpt in my profile page), but coming to barefoot running took some time and I hid it from friends and family for quite a time. I didn't even practiced it regularly because it wasn't easy to find places away of scary stares. It wasn't until last Christmas when I decided to really go for it, which can be understood as new step in my way of self-acceptance.
Last but not least, feet are mechanical marvels of the Nature, are mechanically wonderful! So why crampling them under heavy shoes?
Run long and prosper.