Dr. Daniel Howell is one barefoot runner who actually has the academic credentials to back up what he says. Most of the rest of us just blather away, claiming to offer good advice. Let me be honest: I understand barefoot running like I understand female arousal. Both topics fascinate me, but I'm pretty sure I'm missing a few critical pieces of the puzzle. And that's not due to a lack of effort.
So I just finished reading Dr. Howell's article,Infectious Fears. He writes that "most people believe there are armies of germs just waiting to attack naked feet and then render the barefooter lame or blind… or dead..." He confirms that, "nothing could be further from the truth" and goes on to discuss how "shoes are incubators for bacteria and fungi." Ick.
Look, I'm not squeamish. But that was the point in the article where I had a flashback to one of the grossest moments of my life. We all have a moment like this in our past. You know, that time when one or more of our senses was so overwhelmed that the foregone conclusion was losing your lunch.
My moment happened at a party in college. It was hazy dark, beer cans and cups strewn everywhere. I stopped dancing with my girlfriend and grabbed what I thought was my cup. Thirsty, I took a deep drink. Except this wasn't my cup. Apparently this was the communal cigarette ash and tobacco spitter cup for everyone on the dance floor. Step 2: projectile vomit.
Dr. Howell is right. Shoes stink. Anyone else here remember the '80s? Yes, I too try to block out that decade, but it was junior high and high school for me, so I have fond memories of...hmmm...okay I don't have any fond memories. But it made me think of Don Johnson and Miami Vice.
No socks, remember? I told my mom I was never going to wear socks again. She took one look at me and said, "You WILL wear socks to church." I said, "But Jesus didn't wear socks." She said, "The day you actually personify ANY of Jesus' qualities, I will allow you to go to church naked." Geez mom, chill out.
So it took about one month for my Pony tennis shoes to incubate. I didn't really notice. It's kinda like jock itch. You don't really know you have a problem until you get called to the board in math class and realize you still have your hand in your pants and it's not because you are enjoying yourself.
I first realized I had a stinky shoe problem when I went on an overnight debate trip. I had to share a hotel room with my debate partner. We got to the room and I immediately removed my shoes. My partner came out of the bathroom and almost fell over. "Christ, Jake, your feet stink!" Just then two other guys came into the room. "Oh my God, what died?"
Uh oh. Now what? I didn't have any other shoes. Ah ha! Cologne. Fifteen-year-olds always carried cologne. We sprayed both shoes and waited.
Have you ever tried to make taffy and burned it? Okay, take that smell and mix it with the odor of that guy with the hairy shoulders and the striped socks who was in line in front of you yesterday at the 7-11. That's what my shoes now smelled like.
We survived the debate tournament. But that was the end of the Pony shoes and my sockless phase.
So what's the point? First, I try to bathe more these days than I did at 15. Second, it is up to us to change society's perception of shoes and the dangers of going barefoot. I'm going to do my part by adding Dr. Howell's website to my favorite links section of this blog. I hope all three of my faithful readers click on it.
Happy Holidays!
*Posted here at BRS and at www.runbarefooteurope.blogspot.com
So I just finished reading Dr. Howell's article,Infectious Fears. He writes that "most people believe there are armies of germs just waiting to attack naked feet and then render the barefooter lame or blind… or dead..." He confirms that, "nothing could be further from the truth" and goes on to discuss how "shoes are incubators for bacteria and fungi." Ick.
Look, I'm not squeamish. But that was the point in the article where I had a flashback to one of the grossest moments of my life. We all have a moment like this in our past. You know, that time when one or more of our senses was so overwhelmed that the foregone conclusion was losing your lunch.
My moment happened at a party in college. It was hazy dark, beer cans and cups strewn everywhere. I stopped dancing with my girlfriend and grabbed what I thought was my cup. Thirsty, I took a deep drink. Except this wasn't my cup. Apparently this was the communal cigarette ash and tobacco spitter cup for everyone on the dance floor. Step 2: projectile vomit.
Dr. Howell is right. Shoes stink. Anyone else here remember the '80s? Yes, I too try to block out that decade, but it was junior high and high school for me, so I have fond memories of...hmmm...okay I don't have any fond memories. But it made me think of Don Johnson and Miami Vice.
No socks, remember? I told my mom I was never going to wear socks again. She took one look at me and said, "You WILL wear socks to church." I said, "But Jesus didn't wear socks." She said, "The day you actually personify ANY of Jesus' qualities, I will allow you to go to church naked." Geez mom, chill out.
So it took about one month for my Pony tennis shoes to incubate. I didn't really notice. It's kinda like jock itch. You don't really know you have a problem until you get called to the board in math class and realize you still have your hand in your pants and it's not because you are enjoying yourself.
I first realized I had a stinky shoe problem when I went on an overnight debate trip. I had to share a hotel room with my debate partner. We got to the room and I immediately removed my shoes. My partner came out of the bathroom and almost fell over. "Christ, Jake, your feet stink!" Just then two other guys came into the room. "Oh my God, what died?"
Uh oh. Now what? I didn't have any other shoes. Ah ha! Cologne. Fifteen-year-olds always carried cologne. We sprayed both shoes and waited.
Have you ever tried to make taffy and burned it? Okay, take that smell and mix it with the odor of that guy with the hairy shoulders and the striped socks who was in line in front of you yesterday at the 7-11. That's what my shoes now smelled like.
We survived the debate tournament. But that was the end of the Pony shoes and my sockless phase.
So what's the point? First, I try to bathe more these days than I did at 15. Second, it is up to us to change society's perception of shoes and the dangers of going barefoot. I'm going to do my part by adding Dr. Howell's website to my favorite links section of this blog. I hope all three of my faithful readers click on it.
Happy Holidays!
*Posted here at BRS and at www.runbarefooteurope.blogspot.com
