Running Barefoot…Too Much too soon.

I’ve leapt full force into barefoot running over the past two weeks, and my enthusiasm has left me with aching muscles and sore feet, but addicted to a new kind of running.

Just down the street from my house is a multi-use public park that is frequented by joggers, pick-up soccer games, and intense games of ultimate frizbee. I figured the plush grass would be the perfect spot to try out barefoot running. I’ve got pretty tough feet, but from all of the advice I had read online, the consistent message is to start slow. Running barefoot changes the way we run by using different muscles and a shorter stride and like anything new, doing too much too soon can result in aching muscles, sore feet, and exhaustion.

Common advice suggests newbies to barefoot running gradually build up to their normal running distance in order to give your body a chance to acclimate to a fundamentally different way of running. 10% of your mileage at first, then 25%, cranking it up to 50% and so on, until your body has adjusted to being shoeless. A few weeks of this gradual incorporation should be enough to prevent excessive soreness in your calves, tender feet, and blood blisters on your toes .

My first time barefoot running was a Monday evening. I walked down to the park and began a slow and steady jog around the playing field. The grass was cool and accommodating beneath my feet. I felt like a kid playing at the park. 10 laps later I didn’t feel the fatigue in my calf muscles or tingling on the soles of my feet that I had anticipated. Cognisant of not wanting to do too much too soon, I headed home, satisfied and hooked.

Fast-forward to Thursday.

The rainclouds were hanging low, heavy with rain. I’d spent the entire day discussing the dismal future of COPD patients on Prince Edward Island, and my depressed, overwhelmed brain needed a release. The scent of rain was sweet and ripe in the air, and without a second thought, I dropped my stuff at home, slipped out of suffocating office clothes, and was prancing down the street in a matter of minutes.

That’s how I feel when I run sans shoes—light and carefree, without a worry in the world. I headed back towards the park where I had run on Monday, but it must have been the part of my brain intoxicated with runner’s high endorphins that convinced my legs that a good long road run was in order.

I splashed through puddles and weaved around rough patches of road. I laughed at the honking cars and kept my eyes focused on the ground in front of me. The steel drums of calypso bumping in my ears made me want to shake my hips and twirl in circles. I can’t honestly say I’ve ever instantly loved something so much. I’m never going back to shoes, I thought over and over again. Just like that, I was addicted.

It didn’t take long though to realize I’d pushed just a little too hard. By the time I had gotten home and showered, my calf muscles had started to tighten up and my feet were tender, even to the gentle massage of carpeting. I spent the next two days limping, and wishing that I could get out and try it again.

By Saturday I’d had enough of sitting around and decided that two days off was more than enough. It only took a few minutes to realize that my body wasn’t quite ready. By Sunday morning I could hardly walk down the stairs.

In the end I had to take almost two weeks off of running to recuperate from my overzealous enthusiasm for barefoot running (it’s ok though, in those two weeks I learned some pretty sweet hooping tricks!).

I’m back into my running routine again though, but trying to be a bit more conservative in my efforts. While I so wish I was strong enough to just go out and run a 5k barefoot, I know I’ll get there eventually. But like I was warned, it takes time, so be patient.

Are you a barefoot runner or a wanna-be barefooter? Join in the conversation!