The Barefoot Monologue

March 12, 2010

The Blackberry rings. Its 7a.m. Oh bloody heck. Yes, three terrific words to start the day with. Between sleeping at 1 a.m. and waking up every other goddamned hour to pee because the bloody collagen pills you’re taking for your knee requires you to drink 1.5l of water minimum consistently throughout the day (no, you can’t just drink 1.5l at one go, it apparently won’t work the same way), waking up at 7 a.m. is not exactly the kind of thing you want to do on a Saturday. Also, it seems the waking up at 7 a.m. can make a girl think of herself in the third person. Okie dokies then.

Eventually, your ass is hauled out of bed and as you dress, you wonder what you should do. Last night’s run felt pretty brilliant. Ideally, you’d be hauling the mountain bike to the trail halfway across the island to go bash through the trails but there’s the duathlon tomorrow and your busted knee. You’re supposed to be saving the knee for the run and bike tomorrow. Plus, after busting out the knee on Sunday, you’re strangely reluctant to get on the bike and ride, a reluctance you simply cannot understand.

So you do what you always do when you have no idea, you throw on running shoes and go towards the beach. Except that this morning, instead of running from the top of the hill, you simply walk. Along the way, an old man chirpily calls out “Good morning” as you walk past him. You have to remind yourself that not everything in this city is hostile and try your best to return with a smile and a “mornin’!” while avoiding eye contact. Just because eye contact with anyone gives you the heebie jeebies and well, he may be friendly but he might also still be a loon. Considering that you’re a loon magnet, its always better to be safe.

At the beach, the Singapore Biathlon is going on. Somehow, you still feel strangely resistant towards running, so you do what any sane person would do, you pull your sneakers and socks off and head off on the pavement barefoot. Which by the way, feels strangely bloody good. Unexpected because you’re also icked out by how the pavement feels under your barefeet and the pinecones and twigs look threatening as hell. Oh and there’s this feeling like something has stuck itself into your left foot and might pierce the skin any time soon. But overall, ignoring all of that, it feels GOOD. The first time you ran barefoot, it was around a track and it felt like a great foot massage. This time, the pavement is harsher, everything hurts a bit more but its still wonderful. Kinda like crack, one hit later, you need another hit. Fast. All sorts of things run through your head. Being out in the morning feels good. The sun isn’t hot yet, everything’s kind of cool. Except for the crowd, the vibe is pretty decent. Running barefoot makes you feel more connected to the earth. Its like removing a layer of squishy rubber from beneath your feet and bringing you one step closer to the earth, the source of all energy. Maybe, you theorize, that’s why you feel better after the shoes come off. Its not very different from tree hugging, having some exposed part of you in contact with the earth makes you feel more alive, more energetic and somehow, in the words of the Mad Hatter, muchier.

The first time you grind your toe into the pavement, its sort of a wake up call to stop dreaming and focus on the way you’re running. Its probably the only time you will agree with the ChiRunning guy, mindfulness while moving is essential. Not because of anything else, simply because you’re naturally klutzy as hell and will stumble over anything, even a flat pavement. You might also agree with Mr ChiRunning that there is a way to lean forward while running and make your core do the work instead of your legs, you’ve tried it with maybe 5 seconds of success at maintaining it and your knee didn’t hurt. Fucking miracle, really but then you somehow lost the feel of that form again and went back to running the old way, stumbling every now and then trying to find that magical sweet spot of running without a painful knee. Jesus. But anyway, somewhere before the sailing club, you stumble again and grind your toe into the pavement again. This time, looking down, its a mess of blood and skin. Christ on a stick. You sit down, clean the blood off with your sock and assess the damage. Not as bad as it seems but still pretty fucking painful. Shaking your head, you decide its time to put the sneakers back on. You’ll be racing your first duathlon tomorrow with a painful toe and you’re not even sure if it’ll be possible to cram that foot into your cycling shoes which are already too small for you and applying a lot of pressure on the exact spot where your toe has been ground. Limping back to the Bayshore underpass, you keep telling yourself “Pain is good, pain is VERY good, pain means you’re alive, goddammit!”

Eventually, you get the hell outta the crowded beach. You’re actually sorry that you have the shoes on. A whole load of thoughts run through your head.

Maybe humans were meant to run barefoot after all.

Maybe you shouldn’t run barefoot, considering your tendency to grind your toe into surfaces while moving.

Maybe, maybe…your next pair of running shoes should be these things