Barefoot Shoes and Pain: How Minimalist Footwear Changed My Life
It was over three years ago now, that I first heard the term ‘barefoot shoes’. I was listening to Dr Rangan Chatterjee’s ‘Feel Better, Live More’ podcast, in my persistent search for a cure to my chronic lower back pain, when I first encountered the term. It was during his interview with Galahad Clark, the co-founder of global footwear brand Vivobarefoot, that my interest was piqued.
Initially, without even properly appreciating the complex science behind the role of the foot in human movement, it was the common-sense principle that sold me. Of course, wouldn’t it make sense that we evolved to move optimally throughout the 99.9% of our existence without the invention of footwear? We moved in the ways nature intended us to, with our feet as the foundation of the human body. Considering then that modern footwear constricts our feet – squishing our toes together with narrow toe boxes, elevating the foot off the ground with thick soles that inhibit flexibility, and excessive cushioning that weakens the foot – I was struck by the thought that we couldn’t be further from allowing our feet to move naturally.
I had heard and read enough. I ordered my first pair of barefoot shoes. Having suffered from plantar fasciitis for the majority of my life, it was a humbling experience going for a walk with these new shoes. I realised that my natural tendency had now become hitting the ground hard with my heel, but that with these shoes that was not going to be possible. Every bit of impact from smashing down the foot would be felt intensely through my heel. For me, my body clearly adjusted very quickly to this sensory information, and my new shoes forced me to walk in a much more controlled, lighter and non-heel-smashing fashion. I no longer had the cushioning to protect me from the blows of that sort of walking style.
What followed over the next couple of weeks, wearing these minimalist shoes as often as possible, was an experience of walking without heel pain for the first time in as long as I can remember. I actually felt relaxed in my body whilst walking…all of the tension that I usually bottled up seemed to dissipate with movement in these shoes around the streets of Tooting. I felt more in touch with my environment and became acutely aware of my foot pressures and how my feet were interacting with the floor and the different surfaces beneath them. At risk of sounding like a complete nerd, I was absolutely fascinated.
The benefits were almost instant and anybody that knows me can attest that it would be no exaggeration to say that my life changed with barefoot shoes. Standing out as the guy wearing those weird clown shoes became and remains my persona. Whilst the aesthetic element of barefoot shoes has evolved over recent years, as the trend has become slightly more popular, I don’t think it would be controversial to say that there is still room for improvement. Or is that the very issue – is the style and design of shoe that my generation has come to love simply incompatible with ‘barefootness’? I guess only time will tell how far barefoot shoes will be able to go and whether they can reverse the seemingly insurmountable fandom for shoes that take us off the ground.
The earliest shoes were invented to protect the feet from rough terrain and heat. But importantly, they were still shaped like natural feet – they were merely wrappings of plant fibres. Raised, high platform shoes were introduced to display wealth and status, followed by the adoption of heels by Aristocrats to signify the separation from manual labour and the dirty ground. Narrow, pointed shoes then became fashionable, refining the natural shape of the body to suggest elegance. The standardization of the shoe shape was amplified by the Industrial Revolution, and shoes that fit each person’s natural foot shape became a thing of the past. History shows us that shoes began as protection, but over time became loaded by society’s obsession with status.
In recent years, health has become a trend in the UK in a broad sense. The way that I see it, the obsession with optimising wellness once again stems from self-identity and status. However, without wishing to sound too evangelical, I hope that this movement could be the very reason that at some point we will see a mass conversion to barefoot shoes. Surely it is only a matter of time before people begin taking seriously the damage that orthodox shoes are doing to their feet and body?
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