1. Fallen Arches
Years ago on the streets of New York City, as the story goes, we were walking along the sidewalk, my brother, my mother, my aunt and I, and as was evidently par for the course, I was lagging behind. My mother used to call me the “Poky Little Puppy,” after the book, and on this day I was living up to that moniker.
Now, my mother and brother were used to this laggard nature of mine, but my aunt wasn’t. So she tried to get me to hurry up. I must have responded with some usual lament about my feet hurting.
“His feet hurt, Beverly,” she said to my mom. And as the story goes, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into a shoe store that was right there and got me some Dr. Scholl’s arch supports.
I had fallen arches. With arch supports, my feet never hurt again. I never lagged behind again. I was no longer the Poky Little Puppy. And my mother, as she tells it, felt guilty for years.
2. Tenderfoot
Years ago, I was living in Houston, working, eating, sleeping and training for marathons.
I had heard something about how running shoes have “spoiled” our feet, that our foot muscles have atrophied. So I decided to act.
I added a barefoot workout to my daily routine: one slow, no-shoes lap around the infield of a quarter mile track after my long run. At the end of a week, my ankles hurt — noticeably.
“My ankles hurt when I run barefoot,” I told my sports physician brother.
“Stop running barefoot,” he said (instantly).
I did. And the pain went away (immediately).
Yet… in the back of my mind I still wondered about my feet. And my son, who was growing up barefoot much of the time, would tease me about being a tenderfoot.
3. Barefoot Gardener
Last April, I quit my job.
I had decided to become a teacher, and I was struggling to keep up with my (evening and weekends) alternative certification class. Furthermore, our company had just gone thru some changes, and my new boss (a terrific guy) was beginning to depend on me.
I needed more time for class. And I wasn’t comfortable pretending that I could own my assignments for the long term. So I submitted my resignation.
So I entered pseudo-retirement. I had days “off”, which I did use for classwork but also for springtime gardening. The yard had been neglected for a long time, and there was much to do before summer arrived.
I decided to do my gardening barefoot.
4. Progress Report
Now, working barefoot in the garden was a challenge. I was indeed a tenderfoot, and stepping on sticks hurt. (Our yard is effectively nothing but sticks.) Also, my balance was lousy without shoes. Lacking support, when I bent over to pull up some Bermuda grass or a nascent Hackberry, I’d start wobbling and begin tipping over. Finally, I anticipated the pain of nails in my fallen arches.
Still, I kept at it.
After a week, I was more sore than I can remember being in a long time. My feet were sore. My calves were sore. My thighs were sore. Even my toes were sore.
But I kept at it.
Week two. Week three. The soreness did not diminish. Trudy grew weary of my nightly lament. I found Advil to be a good friend.
But I kept at it.
Weeks. Months. And although today I still am moderately sore every night when I go to bed, I have progress to report.
First: I am no longer a tenderfoot. I am able to walk barefoot on sticks and on hot pavement in the summer sun. I barely notice the sticks, and I can cross the street barefoot at midday. Second: my balance is terrific. Whereas I used to teeter putting on my jeans in the morning, I now find myself almost jumping into them one leg at a time. And my calves and thighs no longer hurt at all. Third: I can go all day barefoot or in no-support sandals. The arch nail pain is gone. Fourth: I have a normal footprint again. Whereas my wet footprints used to be featureless ovals with no obvious arch, I noticed a few weeks ago after an afternoon rain that my footprints are normal with a full arch indentation.
I’ve been cured!
… just in the nick of time, too. My pseudo-retirement is over. Full time teacher training starts tomorrow!
