Important Footwear Update

So I'm out of town at a conference, and I've been running all over the hotel and the Minneapolis Conference Center in my little slipperesque Zem Gear flats, and they've been serving me just fine.

My calves are a little sore because I'm walking on the ball of my foot over longer periods of time than usual, but I'm sure that won't last. They look only a little odd (no one has commented), and are so much more comfortable than my semi-dress shoes that I might otherwise be wearing.

I may never wear any other shoes again, I'm telling you.

Well, maybe in the summer when a sandal is nice. Or the winter when these are just too thin.

But in the meantime, if you miss me terribly and want to know all about the Medical Library Association conference (and are not already reading the blog), please see the multitudinous posts produced by me and my fellow bloggers. I have not mentioned my shoes there. That's a secret between me and the people who read this blog. Shh.

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Footcovers

As previously noted here, I have a long, troubled history with shoes. I've therefore watched with interest the progress of the 'barefoot' or minimal shoe trend that's underway right now.

One thing about these shoes (the Vibram Five Fingers, with space for each individual toe, being a notable example) is that they tend to look a bit odd to people used to more conventional footwear.

People like me, and like the other people in my workplace whom I see on a regular basis. I'm not saying I'd be instantly fired for showing up to work in shoes with toes, especially since we have a loose-to-nonexistence dress code, but it would seem a bit out of place.

So while I've been intrigued by the idea of these thin-soled, flexible shoes, I haven't actually tried them. Not until now.

Now, I got a pair from a brand called ZemGear that, although they do make a shoe with a split sole (not room for each toe, but a separate space for the big toe and the other toes), also makes a more ordinary-looking one.

This is called the Playa Low. Pretty nondescript, right? It also comes in bright colors, but I thought solid black would fit in best in a work environment.

I have been wearing them around the office this week, and I must say, I have received no blisters or new shoe pain whatsoever. On that basis alone, these are among the best shoes I have ever worn.

It feels--and looks--like walking around in a light slipper, so it's not exactly like wearing an ordinary shoe, but to the casual eye I think it's not anything remarkable. They're made of a very light, stretchy fabric over a thin sole, so I'm not sure how well they'll hold up to long term wear, but I'm going to make sure to find out.

Your people who are really into stylish and adorable shoes will not be very impressed with these (sorry, Dr. Isis), but my main shoe concern these days is "will this cause me pain?" and if the answer is no, I'm halfway sold.

And if I can get away with wearing it at work, the sale is basically done.

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Pointless Whine of the Day

I kind of hate store credit. I have to remember to shop there again to use it, you know?

I don't blame L.L. Bean, specifically. They sent me the boots I ordered, just the way I told them to. What else were they supposed to do? They couldn't have known the boots wouldn't fit, any more than I did.

Until I tried them on. And then had to send them back, and now I have this credit that I have to use, and I really don't shop at L.L. Bean generally, except hope springs eternal that someday I'll find a pair of boots that fit.

Siiiigh.

My life is filled with hardship, sorrow and cold, wet feet.

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The Advance of Bare Feet

I see another in the line of exciting stories about barefootedness! This one, from New York Magazine, is crisply titled "You Walk Wrong."

It suggests that wearing shoes throws off one's whole stride, such that we bring all manner of foot and joint problems upon ourselves by tromping gracelessly (or even gracefully) about.

It seems that when you put more padding between your foot and the ground, you tend to step harder, as if something about our sense of balance requires a certain amount of impact in order to maintain equilibrium. (There's an interesting tidbit about gymnasts, who apparently, if given softer mats, land harder on them.)

So, the more we try to protect our feet, the more we tend to abuse them in order to make up for that missing contact with the trod-upon surface. We might all be a lot better off if we never wore shoes at all.

This is interesting, and I'm all for more barefootedness in general, the ickiness of walking around on city streets notwithstanding, except for one thing that springs instantly to mind:

What about the snow and the bitter, bitter cold? What about the ice-slicked streets that freeze your little toes right off? Surely we need some protection from the weather, if not the hard and filthy ground!

Nevertheless, I'm intrigued by some shoes described in the article, that try to put no more than a thin coating between foot and street...something to keep the dirt off, but still let you feel the ground, and let the foot move more naturally.

I have a dislike/hate relationship with shoes for the most part (they never fit!), so I can't help but wonder if next to no shoes could be the answer. If I get around to trying some (although I bet they won't fit!), I'll be sure to keep my legions of followers updated.

The article was pointed out to me by Sheril Kirshenbaum at The Intersection, though more for its clever illustrations than its content.
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Toss the Shoes

This Well piece on running barefoot (which follows another story) is kind of old, but I forgot to notice it when it was new, and still think it's pretty interesting.

I guess the idea is that considering you put huge piles of pressure on your feet walking or running anyway, what's the difference if there's half an inch of rubber between your foot and the road?

One obvious difference is, at least the rubber will keep bits of broken glass from getting stuck in your feet. Also, there's a lot of grit and dirt out there, some of it kind of gross. We used to run around barefoot all the time when I was a kid, but we lived in the country. When we went into town, we had to put on shoes, because, as my mom once said, "people chew tobacco and spit on the sidewalks." 

She probably assumed people didn't want to see grubby barefoot children running around in the aisles of the supermarkets, either. There's no logical reason it would be any dirtier to have people walking around stores barefoot than tracking the same dirt in on their shoes, but somehow it's way more off-putting.

Probably a class issue. "No shirt, no shoes, no service" and all.

We had super tough feet, though, and didn't seem to suffer any ill effects from the lack of shoes. We'd run around on gravel roads and in prickly forests and through stubbly fallow wheat fields. Sometimes we did have to pick stickers out of our feet, but it was just one of the costs of doing fun.

We could justly sneer at anyone who was a tenderfoot. Also, we sometimes ate thistles. Just for the hell of it. Yeah, we were tough.

Now, years older and with the paper-thin soles of one who wears shoes everywhere outdoors, I myself am a tenderfoot. I limp with every step over gravel. Siiiiigh.

Maybe I should take up barefoot running to recapture the glory of my youth. The only problem is that I'd have to take up running, and no way.

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