For many years, I never considered leaving the house without shoes. I know. Shocking. But the appeal of a barefoot walk in the great outdoors was lost on me. I mean, who knows what could happen to your feet out there? I’d worry about the horrible dangers lurking just inches away from my naked foot skin.

Like what? Glad you asked.

Let’s say you’re walking (recklessly barefoot) through your backyard when you unknowingly step onto a mole tunnel. Poof! Your entire foot disappears into a subterranean world of savagery. Alerted by the sweet smell of a human foot, moles come shuffling at you through the black earth. The sink their evil mole teeth deep into your foot flesh as you howl in pain. Yanking your foot from the ground, you start kicking off frenzied moles as they desperately try to suck out your foot blood.

But! As you flail in agony, you stomp directly onto the shredded remains of a rusty old soup can, lacerating your tender heel. As new waves of pain wash over your bare feet, you stumble back towards the house – but what’s this? The yard is suddenly strewn with other people’s used Band-Aids! And it’s too late. Your feet are completely covered in sticky, old, discolored bandages (and blood-crazed moles).

You somehow remain upright, tripping towards your back door, when you step directly into a pile of dog crap left by your neighbor’s thoughtless labradoodle, and oh no!

Now you’ve also stepped onto a pile of South American botfly larvae, which instantly begin to burrow (hungrily) into your bloodied skin.

”

if you don’t mind getting your feet a little dirty (and you shouldn’t) I’m betting you’ll find going barefoot is pretty great.

You whip out your phone to call a loved one for help when (you guessed it) a cinderblock falls onto your precious toes, and then you stumble into that antique weasel trap you totally forgot about. As the razor sharp metal teeth gnash at your tender Achilles tendon, and the moles gather ‘round, you begin to black out. You use your last flutter of consciousness to curse the day you hadn’t worn sneakers outside.

If you can believe it, I no longer worry about such things. How did I get over these barefoot nightmares? It started with buying a pair of sandals. Sandals where my gateway drug to the addictive euphoria of going barefoot. More and more, I started taking my sandals off whenever I could. Eventually, I just went outside barefoot. And it’s great.

I know many of you agree. But many others of you probably think this is just crazy talk. Going barefoot may have been good enough for that one smelly guy in your required philosophy course back in college, but not you, right? Well, if you don’t mind getting your feet a little dirty (and you shouldn’t) I’m betting you’ll find going barefoot is pretty great.

Hundreds of thousands dirty hippies can’t be wrong.

There are some who’ve studied what happens to your body when walking (and running) barefoot and tout the benefits to your foot strength/health and overall balance. Other researchers have seen health advantages such as increasing antioxidants, reducing inflammation, and improving sleep.

Now, I know all this talk of foot strength and inflammation reduction makes walking barefoot sound unbearably exciting. But for me, it’s just a feeling. I like how it feels.

Here’s one thing I like to do. I go outside barefoot and just feel the ground. I feel the grass, the dirt, the sand, the rocks, the whatever. I set my feet shoulder-width apart in the “ready stance” I learned back in high school football (this is the only thing I remember from high school football). I take a breath and feel my own weight pushing my feet down against the earth. I imagine seeing myself from space, standing on top of our little blue planet. I rock side-to-side for a bit, feeling a connection between the wizardry of gravity and my own body. Suddenly I can feel my place in the world. I am solid. I am here.

I don’t care if that sounds weird – I like doing it. I’m not wearing a crystal necklace and I’m not thinking about my chakras or anything. I’m just feeling something I’ve spent most of my life ignoring.

And as I feel those feelings, I keep an eye out for rogue weasel traps.

For many years, I never considered leaving the house without shoes. I know. Shocking. But the appeal of a barefoot walk in the great outdoors was lost on me. I mean, who knows what could happen to your feet out there? I’d worry about the horrible dangers lurking just inches away from my naked foot skin.

Like what? Glad you asked.

Let’s say you’re walking (recklessly barefoot) through your backyard when you unknowingly step onto a mole tunnel. Poof! Your entire foot disappears into a subterranean world of savagery. Alerted by the sweet smell of a human foot, moles come shuffling at you through the black earth. The sink their evil mole teeth deep into your foot flesh as you howl in pain. Yanking your foot from the ground, you start kicking off frenzied moles as they desperately try to suck out your foot blood.

But! As you flail in agony, you stomp directly onto the shredded remains of a rusty old soup can, lacerating your tender heel. As new waves of pain wash over your bare feet, you stumble back towards the house – but what’s this? The yard is suddenly strewn with other people’s used Band-Aids! And it’s too late. Your feet are completely covered in sticky, old, discolored bandages (and blood-crazed moles).

You somehow remain upright, tripping towards your back door, when you step directly into a pile of dog crap left by your neighbor’s thoughtless labradoodle, and oh no!

Now you’ve also stepped onto a pile of South American botfly larvae, which instantly begin to burrow (hungrily) into your bloodied skin.

You whip out your phone to call a loved one for help when (you guessed it) a cinderblock falls onto your precious toes, and then you stumble into that antique weasel trap you totally forgot about. As the razor sharp metal teeth gnash at your tender Achilles tendon, and the moles gather ‘round, you begin to black out. You use your last flutter of consciousness to curse the day you hadn’t worn sneakers outside.

If you can believe it, I no longer worry about such things. How did I get over these barefoot nightmares? It started with buying a pair of sandals. Sandals where my gateway drug to the addictive euphoria of going barefoot. More and more, I started taking my sandals off whenever I could. Eventually, I just went outside barefoot. And it’s great.

I know many of you agree. But many others of you probably think this is just crazy talk. Going barefoot may have been good enough for that one smelly guy in your required philosophy course back in college, but not you, right? Well, if you don’t mind getting your feet a little dirty (and you shouldn’t) I’m betting you’ll find going barefoot is pretty great.

Hundreds of thousands dirty hippies can’t be wrong.

There are some who’ve studied what happens to your body when walking (and running) barefoot and tout the benefits to your foot strength/health and overall balance. Other researchers have seen health advantages such as increasing antioxidants, reducing inflammation, and improving sleep.

Now, I know all this talk of foot strength and inflammation reduction makes walking barefoot sound unbearably exciting. But for me, it’s just a feeling. I like how it feels.

Here’s one thing I like to do. I go outside barefoot and just feel the ground. I feel the grass, the dirt, the sand, the rocks, the whatever. I set my feet shoulder-width apart in the “ready stance” I learned back in high school football (this is the only thing I remember from high school football). I take a breath and feel my own weight pushing my feet down against the earth. I imagine seeing myself from space, standing on top of our little blue planet. I rock side-to-side for a bit, feeling a connection between the wizardry of gravity and my own body. Suddenly I can feel my place in the world. I am solid. I am here.

I don’t care if that sounds weird – I like doing it. I’m not wearing a crystal necklace and I’m not thinking about my chakras or anything. I’m just feeling something I’ve spent most of my life ignoring.

And as I feel those feelings, I keep an eye out for rogue weasel traps.