Found at cavemandiaries.wordpress.com
In the last post I talked about what technologies I have adopted and which ones I have rejected. My rejection of cars seem to be one of the big things that prompts utterances of words like “backward” and “Luddite”. It seems that this modern wold simply cannot exist without cages of metal with combustibles attached zinging along at a million miles an hour mere feet away from other death traps traveling in the opposite direction.
This is fine for me. The subject doesn’t come up all that often, only at those rare times when someone offers me a ride somewhere. One cannot see that I don’t take a gamble with my life in a car by looking at me, but one quick glance reveals that I don’t use shoes.
My rejection of shoes fascinates people. The stares are constant. The questions unending. The quips everlasting. It makes me wonder at times whether the foot is a private part of sorts among the Moderns. The obsession with feet borders on the creepy.
Still though, there are many people who comment positively on my naked feet. They remember a time, a more innocent time when they were barefoot for entire summers, or when they were at the beach, or nicely drunk, or otherwise naked for naked type recreation. Based on these comments, the best times of life are experienced barefooted. Yet even these positive commenters react with horror if they learn that I run barefoot.
I see other runners a lot while I am out during the day. Running is a hobby among the Moderns and there is little reason to wonder at that. They run simply to run and wear thick, thick soled boots that are cut off nearer the ankles. They stomp around their running routes with these boots, whump whump whump. I wince as the whumps draws closer and as they withdraw. It sounds painful.
Apparently it is painful. Don’t get me wrong, running is exercise, and like any exercise if you go further or faster than normal, you are going to get sore. Include slipping on ice, mud, or tripping and it natural to be injured from time to time.
These boots seem to do something different to the body. Other runners complain about constantly sore knees, inflamed or torn tendons, fractures of toes or heels, toenails falling off, weak and aching ankles, falling and flat arches, back pain, more back pain, and deformed feet. They speak of time lost from training, time off the trails, how long they are “down”. Additionally, these injuries aren’t coming from what I mention above. These poor runners are not running further or farther. Many times they are actually reducing the amount they run and still have these problems.
I don’t know what exactly the shoes do to them because I am positive they are guilty. My people run further, and over rougher terrain than they do. We had less medical attention and much less opportunity for rest. You can’t attribute it to concrete or asphalt because I run on both with no troubles, and millions do the same all over the world today. My people had no bunions or corns or black toenails falling off the feet. That is something you Moderns have done by running in boots.
What do the other runners say when I point this out? They need something to protect their feet from the ground, from glass or feral hypodermic needles. I understand this. I have used shoes to protect my feet when there is snow, or volcanic flows, but I don’t wear boots! I put on thin leather, or thin rubber, or something like that. Just a second skin for a bit of extra protection. I have always done this.
What do the other runners say when I point this out? They need to protect their feet from their feet! They need something to hold the arch up, to wedge the heels straight, to tilt the toes up, to pad the heel so they can stomp extra hard. To prop and squeeze the feet into submission as though the foot were something to be conquered.
So the runners stomp through their world of concrete and glass, they stomp through the forests scaring every animal before they see them, they stomp and stomp until something breaks. Then the runners complain that this boot doesn’t fit right. It’s so hard to get a good boot to pinch in the right way. Why can’t I just run? Why, oh why?
No. Maybe some day if I am drunk I may be persuaded to get in a car, but I am going to stay far, far away from those boots. I love to run too much!
In the last post I talked about what technologies I have adopted and which ones I have rejected. My rejection of cars seem to be one of the big things that prompts utterances of words like “backward” and “Luddite”. It seems that this modern wold simply cannot exist without cages of metal with combustibles attached zinging along at a million miles an hour mere feet away from other death traps traveling in the opposite direction.
This is fine for me. The subject doesn’t come up all that often, only at those rare times when someone offers me a ride somewhere. One cannot see that I don’t take a gamble with my life in a car by looking at me, but one quick glance reveals that I don’t use shoes.
My rejection of shoes fascinates people. The stares are constant. The questions unending. The quips everlasting. It makes me wonder at times whether the foot is a private part of sorts among the Moderns. The obsession with feet borders on the creepy.
Still though, there are many people who comment positively on my naked feet. They remember a time, a more innocent time when they were barefoot for entire summers, or when they were at the beach, or nicely drunk, or otherwise naked for naked type recreation. Based on these comments, the best times of life are experienced barefooted. Yet even these positive commenters react with horror if they learn that I run barefoot.
I see other runners a lot while I am out during the day. Running is a hobby among the Moderns and there is little reason to wonder at that. They run simply to run and wear thick, thick soled boots that are cut off nearer the ankles. They stomp around their running routes with these boots, whump whump whump. I wince as the whumps draws closer and as they withdraw. It sounds painful.
Apparently it is painful. Don’t get me wrong, running is exercise, and like any exercise if you go further or faster than normal, you are going to get sore. Include slipping on ice, mud, or tripping and it natural to be injured from time to time.
These boots seem to do something different to the body. Other runners complain about constantly sore knees, inflamed or torn tendons, fractures of toes or heels, toenails falling off, weak and aching ankles, falling and flat arches, back pain, more back pain, and deformed feet. They speak of time lost from training, time off the trails, how long they are “down”. Additionally, these injuries aren’t coming from what I mention above. These poor runners are not running further or farther. Many times they are actually reducing the amount they run and still have these problems.
I don’t know what exactly the shoes do to them because I am positive they are guilty. My people run further, and over rougher terrain than they do. We had less medical attention and much less opportunity for rest. You can’t attribute it to concrete or asphalt because I run on both with no troubles, and millions do the same all over the world today. My people had no bunions or corns or black toenails falling off the feet. That is something you Moderns have done by running in boots.
What do the other runners say when I point this out? They need something to protect their feet from the ground, from glass or feral hypodermic needles. I understand this. I have used shoes to protect my feet when there is snow, or volcanic flows, but I don’t wear boots! I put on thin leather, or thin rubber, or something like that. Just a second skin for a bit of extra protection. I have always done this.
What do the other runners say when I point this out? They need to protect their feet from their feet! They need something to hold the arch up, to wedge the heels straight, to tilt the toes up, to pad the heel so they can stomp extra hard. To prop and squeeze the feet into submission as though the foot were something to be conquered.
So the runners stomp through their world of concrete and glass, they stomp through the forests scaring every animal before they see them, they stomp and stomp until something breaks. Then the runners complain that this boot doesn’t fit right. It’s so hard to get a good boot to pinch in the right way. Why can’t I just run? Why, oh why?
No. Maybe some day if I am drunk I may be persuaded to get in a car, but I am going to stay far, far away from those boots. I love to run too much!
