Baring my soles

My VFF might be magical, but you know what's even more magical? My bare feet.

If you don't like feet, feel free to navigate away from this page. Because I'm not only going to talk about feet, I'm going to show you pictures of feet. Feet, feet, glorious feet.

It was warmer today than yesterday. A première for t-shirts and shorter tights. I put on my old Kayanos and ran towards the lake. My legs were heavier than ever. I couldn't get them to wake up. I was slow, but on the plus side, my pulse was low.

I reached the lake and the soft forest paths. I took my shoes and socks off. It was the moment of truth: my VFF were in my backpack, but I was itching to run completely barefoot. I decided to put my Kayanos in the backpack and hold my VFF for easy access, and just try walking barefoot.

I took a few tentative steps. The ground was cold. There were small stones here and there, and pine needles that looked dangerously sharp. I tried stepping on them carefully. They were surprisingly nothing like I imagined. It was like walking on feathers. I started running, the heaviness in my legs giving way to what felt like flying. The small stones were irritating, but they didn't hurt. They kept me alert, my eyes focused on the ground. After a couple hundred metres, my feet were almost numb and only the sharpest of stones registered in my brain.

I met a few people. I got a few strange looks. A few reserved hellos.

I ran a kilometre without shoes on. I didn't dare go on any longer on my first barefoot run. I brushed the worst of the dirt off my feet, slipped on my VFF (for the first time without any socks on – another première) and ran home. The difference was huge. I didn't have to worry about where I put my feet, which was a double-edged sword. I could increase my tempo and run with small, light steps, but the sense of absolute, child-like freedom I'd got when I ran completely barefoot was diminished.

VFF or not, I am hooked on barefoot running.