my running adventures – barefoot or otherwise

A cheeky bit of barefooting goes a long way!


I’m coming clean. This week, I’ve been pretty exhausted so have only run last Sunday (15 miles) and this Thursday back from work (6.8 miles). My right knee is still hurting from tumbling around a kiddies indoor play centre a week ago (after my long run). It was great fun but so harsh on my knees as the ceilings were mostly too low to be able to stand.

By Wednesday of this week I was getting itchy feet for not having done any running (or cycling) and I’d driven to and from work. It only dawned on me as I got home that I was due out that night for a small group social (our church small group/cell group/home group – same thing, but called different things in different church families) at the nearby pub for a quiz.

Before I left home, I hatched a wee plan to take off my trainers and socks and take a short barefoot escapade down to the pub. As usual, I’d planned slightly ahead in that I’d stuffed two babywipes in my pocket, ready to wipe my feet clean before putting my socks and trainers back on and entering the pub as though nothing had happened out of the ordinary.

It was great. I took it slowly as I didn’t want to have a sweat on in the pub, but the freedom for my feet was sweet. The cold ground diffused the tension in my feet and the bumps helped me to relax them, as I stayed light over the ground.

I must have looked a sight. There, all wrapped up in long coat and scarf, jeans rolled up slightly, holding a pair of trainers (fashion ones mind, not running trainers – I don’t do socials in running shoes!) and jogging slowly to the pub down a decent hill.

This was actually good practice to see how my feet and body had gotten more used to barefoot running technique since my blisters episode for doing too much too soon back in early January.

My feet were fine and I enjoyed it so much that after the quiz, I jogged home barefoot too. I was surprised when I took my socks and trainers off this time just how sweaty and moist my feet were (gross!) after just sitting at a table in the pub, and I think my feet were tingling with happiness at the freedom I’d given them again so soon after their last little adventure!

There. I’ve admitted it. Each way was only about half a mile, but the joy I got from doing it was definitely worth having to wipe my feet with baby wipes on my return home.

Oh, and we lost in the pub quiz, just in case you were wondering.

An account of the 15 mile run to the other side of the Trent to follow some time over the weekend.


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