It is a wonderful way to connect to what is.
Making me, without a shadow of a doubt, be extremely aware of the way my feet meet the ground, and what that ground consists of. Each step can be different.
Grass. Cold from the morning dew, or warm from a hot summers day.
A muddy uphill stretch, making my toes dig in for traction.
Small pebbles hurting my feet – like stepping on Lego.
Acorns and leaves, chestnuts and broken off twigs.
Becoming more aware of what else is around me, as my feet somehow lead the way. On an adventurous exploration of my closest surroundings.
Sharpening my senses. All of them. Feeling each and every small irregularity of the ground beneath me, irregularities totally masked when wearing “normal shoes”. Noticing the birds chirping, the squirrel jumping quickly across the path up a tree, the colors of autumn – the vibrant greens, reds, yellows and browns. Orange. Black. Contrasted with the crips clear air of October – making me look up at the bluest of blue skies.
Barefoot I meet the world around me, closer, fuller. Naked. Skin on ground.
As I finish my run, my feet tingle, blood flow maximized, a sensation of being very much alive.
Dip my feet in a water bucket in the garden, jiggling them around to get rid of the worst of the remnants from my run, a leaf stuck onto of my foot, grass between my toes, and a splash of mud here and there. Surprisingly clean, honestly. The wetter the ground – like the morning dew of my run this week – the more visible it is, that I’ve actually run without shoes. On a dry summer day – my feet almost look the same before and after a run.
Regardless of when… the feeling! Incomparable. Something akin to the sensation of a winter bath after a stint in a really hot sauna. Suddenly my entire body is tingling with life, pulsating, a-knocking to remind me, it’s there.
Life. To be lived.
To its fullest.