Beth Skwarecki

It seems I am drawn to weird footwear. High heeled sneakers, say - I've owned more than one pair. Saddle shoes. Dance shoes of all different kinds. And don't forget the shoes with wheels on the bottom, or knife edges on the bottom, for skating on various surfaces. I've even owned the Air Rift.

This one is even weirder than all of those. It even comes with a nutty ideology that, I suspect, is grounded in truth: your feet work fine without any shoes. Better, in fact.

So, here they are: shoes to walk barefoot in.



A recent New Yorker article entitled "You Walk Wrong" put words to a suspicion I've been having for a while: even though I "need" running shoes that correct my overpronating gait, there is probably nothing actually wrong with my feet.

Normal running shoes make my feet hurt in one way. Special shoes make my feet hurt less, but differently.

Yet, no matter how my feet hurt - whether after a run or a day in dress shoes - taking the shoes off always returns me to normal. If running shoes really corrected some problem with the way I naturally use my feet, wouldn't I feel better with the shoes and worse without?

The You Walk Wrong" article suggests that most people's barefoot stride is just fine, and supportive or extra-cushioned shoes might do more harm than good.

But enough about me. What about these shoes?

They're called the Vibram FiveFingers. They have a very thin but tough rubber sole, individual toes, and my version has some velcro closures to adjust the fit.

It's almost not right to call them shoes (the first time I stepped onto a gravel driveway was my wake-up call). Think of them like a strap-on callus for your bare feet.

In shoes, I (and, probably, you) slam my heel on the ground pretty hard. The heels of my shoes are always the first part to wear out. I took the Fivefingers for a trip to the store. On parking lots, sidewalks, and hard floors, my heels hurt.

But then, what about those times at Alfred when Amy and I took our shoes off and walked across campus? We avoided gravel driveways, for one thing. And when we got to a grassy field, I'd put my foot down to enjoy the feel of it. I did not put my foot down heel first.

In fact, when I step on unknown grass, or a kibble-strewn floor like the ones in my house, I step with the flat or the ball of my foot first. I land softly. Barefoot hikers call this fox walking.

Now, I have two problems. One is re-learning how to walk, since I drop into my heel-slamming habits whenever I'm outdoors. The other is strengthening the muscles in my feet. After a few hours in the Fivefingers, my arches and toes feel tired! This is normal in the beginning, they say.

Will I one day be able to run without running shoes? Hike without hiking boots? Here's hoping.