In a world caught up in invention, there's a refreshingly refined lack of inhibition that exists in Northern Michigan. It exudes a comfortable authenticity, a realness unmatched in other geographies. It's a place that knows who it is and doesn't try to be anything different.
Shoe companies and health care providers have traditionally put forth that various levels of biomechanical shortcomings are the root cause of our locomotive problems. We are inherently flawed, and only cleverly-designed footwear is the solution.
Some people have and will continue to call me barefoot and crazy. Springtime in the Midwest isn't the warmest weather and I cannot promise you that it will be comfortable for your toes. Despite all of this, I will continue to go barefoot every year for One Day Without Shoes. Why?
We've still got those same feet, but we don't use them anymore. Instead, we cover them up. We wear shoes that alter the structure and function of our feet, and that weaken the myriad tendons, muscles, and ligaments through disuse.
When hiking without shoes, each step is a new sensation. The sudden jolt of a sharp rock sends chills up my spine. But in the next step, I am greeted by a soothing cool stone and then a warm patch of dried leaves.