The 1,000 Mountains Project and a Cosmic Dragon

January 26, 2024March 22, 2024 Barefoot KenAcross the Years, Healthy Life Expectancy, Riccardo Manzotti, Superstition Peak 50572 Comments

One cold evening, as I was ruminating about my future, a sly thought crept into my vacant mind — to climb 1,000 mountains. And it felt so right, although I held off from making a firm commitment, reminding myself to “give yourself some time to think it through.” But the allure was powerful and immediate. You see, I’m the kind of person who likes to take on big projects and get them done. Like when I ran the Leadville 100-mile ultramarathon, and a few miles before the half-way point, there was this sign – “Go Big or Go Home.” And then the trail headed up and up and up, rising relentlessly into the mountains, until it finally crested at Hope Pass, elevation 12,600 feet, where I felt like lying down on the trail and dying, although I hadn’t yet reached the half-way point.

Mind you I didn’t initially draw any connection between this project and the dragon. Which I’d only seen once before. A year ago, to be precise, in December 2022. I was hurtling south on route 26 toward Grapevine, Texas, in a rental (black Dodge Charger with a 370-horsepower HEMI v8), satellite radio blasting Soundgarden’s alternative edgy angst — when my eye was snagged by the roadside foliage’s autumnal tints. Oaks in green and red and bronze and mottled orange. Cedar elms turning tangerine. Frilly mesquite leaves waving green and lemon. What did these colors signify? Could there be, I wondered, a cosmic dragon studying our world from a parallel neighboring universe – and were these spots of color, flecks in the iris of its eye? Continue reading “The 1,000 Mountains Project and a Cosmic Dragon” →

Forced Mindfulness – at the Roosa Gap Roller Coaster

September 25, 2023September 26, 2023 Barefoot Ken2023 Roosa Gap Roller Coaster, Chip and seal, Forced Mindfulness, Josh Dickson, Mamakating Road, Positive Psychology, ResurfaceLeave a comment

Josh Dickson is a UK-based therapist, thought leader in the field of human potential psychology, and student of “flow,” the super-productive state of consciousness experienced by athletes and other high-performers. Core to his practice is the idea of “mindfulness,” which is sought traditionally through gentle and voluntary techniques, like relaxation. But in a series of recent articles, Dickson brings up a different approach, which he calls “forced mindfulness.” Forced in that this kind of mindfulness requires “conscious and intentional effort” to deal with intensity — sense of urgency — the risk of pain.

The other day Josh asked me, might barefoot running be a form of forced mindfulness?

I looked at him. Considered the question. Said I’d think about it. Continue reading “Forced Mindfulness – at the Roosa Gap Roller Coaster” →

To the Land of the Black Sun

September 16, 2023November 25, 2023 Barefoot Kenavery, bigelow, Black Sun, crocker mountain, Edward Abbey, Emerson, hamlin, katahdin, north brother, old speck, reddington, Saddleback, spaulding, sugarloaf, the horn, Thoreau2 Comments

9-hours in my faithful black Jeep, and maybe longer, as Google Maps just shunted me off the highway and now I’m rolling through small beach towns (signs flash Ogunquit and Kennebunk), where tourists stroll the streets and mill around in trendy bars, hanging out beneath tall gas lanterns on this cool summer evening — but I’ve got a dull ache in my butt (piriformis syndrome from doing squats again) and I just want to get to Millinocket – or anywhere, honestly.

Strictly speaking, this is vacation, but my mindset is all business. My mission — to climb the state’s 4,000-footers, of which there are 14. With long driving times between mountain ranges and interruptions for work calls that can’t be rescheduled, the schedule has little slack. And it’s not like I can just bang out these peaks. I hike barefoot. My pace is slow.

A few weeks ago, this strange thought popped into my mind – that Maine was the “land of the Black Sun.” The intuition being, I guess, that if you journeyed far enough from home, you’d find places so radically different from the familiar, that common attributes might shift into their opposites. Like when Clarence King traveled west from Connecticut to join the California Geologic Survey and then, as soon as the expedition was under way, begged permission to climb a mountain. Any mountain. How about the tallest one in sight. This was 1864. When he and a companion finally reached the summit of Mt. Tyndall, King looked into the sky and saw the darkness of vast yawning hollow space. While the desert basins below were blindingly bright. It was a “strange reversal.” The opposite of familiar sunlit skies and dark cool earth.

On occasion I, too, have experienced strange reversals. For example, I’ve noticed when wearing sunglasses with polarized lenses, that when I tilt my head, the contrast shifts. The brightness flickers. Shadows come awake.

I roll into Millinocket at 2 am. An envelope with my room key is taped to the door, just like they said it would. Continue reading “To the Land of the Black Sun” →

11,000 Miles Barefoot

August 7, 2023August 10, 2023 Barefoot KenBarefoot Autism Challenge, Cowtown Marathon, Loopy LooperLeave a comment

Last fall, reporting on my 10,000th barefoot mile, I commented on a confrontation in a coffee shop, and even today I still recall the young woman’s hazel eyes, above the light-blue surgical mask, glaring with hostility. Then there was the art museum in Ft. Worth, where a portly security manager dressed in a navy blazer explained, patiently, that “it’s the law.” Which it’s not. (Trust me, I do my research.)

But I am nothing if not stubborn. On the way to 11,000 miles, I made it into both these places without shoes, as well as dozens of other establishments, as part of my participation in the Barefoot Autism Challenge, and as part of my unplanned transition to a mostly barefoot lifestyle.

I don’t track steps, however, so coffee shops and art museums did not contribute to the cumulative total. Rather, it was running and mountain-climbing that got me to this latest milestone. Continue reading “11,000 Miles Barefoot” →

Barefoot in New Hampshire

July 5, 2023 Barefoot KenBarefoot Hiking, Earl Schaeffer, Mt. Madison, peak bagging, Presidential Traverse9 Comments

It’s been a long, steep, rocky, wet climb up the mountain’s northern shoulder, and now I’m nearing the AMC hut tucked in a col beneath the summit of Mt. Madison. Another 500 feet to go, and I will have completed my quest – to climb all 48 of New Hampshire’s 4,000-footers, and to do so barefoot, which is how I hike and run these days.

Continue reading →

The Barefoot Autism Challenge

May 7, 2023March 16, 2024 Barefoot KenAmerican Folk Art Museum, Autism Acceptance Month, Barefoot Autism Challenge, Cowtown Marathon, Crying of Lot 49, Dallas Museum of Art, Edward Wong, Ft. Worth Modern, John Burroughs Literary Award Luncheon, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Tampa Museum of Art, The Guggenheim, The Philbrook, Thomas Pynchon, Tyler Leech, Yale Club2 Comments

When I first heard of the Barefoot Autism Challenge, I immediately thought of art museums. Not that I am a fan. They make me feel claustrophobic. When I do visit one, I rationalize that there’s only so much I can absorb. So I fly through the place, taking in a handful of paintings and a few sculptures, but all the while, I sense the ticking clock.

Why did the Barefoot Autism Challenge spark the thought of art museums? Maybe when you take on a challenge, it shakes up your thinking. Lets loose some new ideas. Arguably that’s the point of taking on any kind of challenge. In any case, I do remember the first time I ran the Ft. Worth Cowtown Marathon, how right by the starting line there sat a low concrete building with a plaza and a forlorn sculpture. After the race, as I walking back to the car, I looked up and saw the place again. Stared for a moment. Wondered if they’d let me in without shoes (Cowtown was my first barefoot marathon). Maybe that’s where the idea came from.

The Challenge is simple — go somewhere barefoot for the experience and to show support for the autistic community, where barefooting is popular for the sensory input which helps with processing information about the environment. I decided to give it a try at that museum by the Cowtown starting line.

Recognizing that barefoot is an unusual mode of dress, I went out of my way to make a good impression. I dressed up in stylish jeans and an expensive fitted shirt (the kind I used to wear during my banking days). Traded my Yankees cap for one with the logo of the Dallas Cowboys (the better to fit in with the local crowd). Rehearsed answers to all the questions I thought might be asked. And then, on the appointed day, freshly-showered and cleanly-shaved, I strode in confidently through the front door. And was immediately intercepted. And shown right back out.

I demanded to see the manager. A few minutes later, a portly gentlemen emerged wearing a navy blazer. He was courteous and patient. Explained, “It’s the law.” Talked safety, too — when they move the art around, small tacks might fall out from the frames.

I could think of nothing to say in response to such nonsense.

On the way back to my car, a woman observed how lovely Texas weather was, that you could go about barefoot in November. This comment made me smile. But, I am a stubborn man. I vowed I would return.

Continue reading →

10,000 Miles Barefoot

November 25, 2022 Barefoot KenBarefoot Autism Challenge, Edward Abbey, John Muir Trail, Mt. Whitney, Obey Little Resist Much, Society for Barefoot Living, Tyler Leech3 Comments

How irritating — that they would spread salt so liberally everywhere, not only in the streets, but on the smooth white sidewalks where I’d planned to run (and not a patch of snow in sight). Later I asked my Mom — she didn’t know, but agreed it must have been the City, which forced me to consider the possibility that the local population was so lacking in balance and agility that a late November snow-dusting was seen as potential calamity. In any case, due to the salt I cut my run short at 4 miles instead of 5 and stepped into a favorite coffee shop for my morning cappuccino, only to be confronted by a young woman behind the counter. I saw a pale white face, light-blue surgical mask, and a pair of hazel eyes glaring at me.

“We can’t serve you — it’s the health code.”

With raised eyebrow — “In Illinois. Really?”

“Even if it’s not against the law, it’s our right.”

So I left.

Once back at my hotel, I opened laptop, entered the mileage in my training log, and saw I’d finally crossed the boundary — I’d just passed my 10,000th mile of barefoot hiking, walking, and running. And then I went back out, still searching for my morning coffee….

Continue reading “10,000 Miles Barefoot” →

Hyper-reality and the Desert of the Real

November 13, 2022November 20, 2022 Barefoot KenBlissfeel, Cypher, George Catlin, Haruki Murakami, Hyperreality, Isa-tai, Jacques Ellul, Jean Baudrillard, John Burroughs, Manhattan, The Desert of the Real, the matrix, Walt WhitmanLeave a comment

Flying into LaGuardia, the City shimmering outside the airplane window — labyrinth of light beneath squid-ink sky. Bridges spanning black waters, buildings silhouetted against dark vistas, boulevards radiating in concentric directions. Circuit board of the digital economy.

“City of hurried and sparkling waters!” sang Walt Whitman, “city of spires and masts! City nested in bays! my city!”

But it’s not my city. Not anymore. Never really was… Continue reading “Hyper-reality and the Desert of the Real” →

Homeless in Dallas

October 30, 2022November 23, 2022 Barefoot KenAlly's Wish 5k, Andrew Brown Park, Gary Snyder, Henry ThoreauLeave a comment

Black tarmac slips into view — tires impact — with jolt and bounce we arrive. I’ve left New York behind, and with it, family, friends, routines, familiar places – in a word, I’ve left behind my home. Traded it for a city with a herd of larger-than-life bronze bulls and a brassy sun. By the way, I like it here fine. For a two-week stay, anyway. The issue is, splitting my time between two places – not to mention other travel too – leaves me feeling spread a little thin. Like Bilbo Baggins, who told Gandalf, “‘Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread.” Then he briefed Gandalf on his plan: to leave his home in the Shire, to see the mountains one last time, to find a place to rest, and maybe finish writing his book. Continue reading “Homeless in Dallas” →

More Nature, Less Technology

October 23, 2022 Barefoot KenClarence King, Edward Abbey, Ernst Schrodinger, Gary Snyder, Hoot Owl, Intergenerational Discussion, Jacques Ellul, John Burroughs, John Zerzan, Schrodinger's Cat, Spravato, Technology, The Technological Society, Walt Whitman, Worse is Better11 Comments

“You’ll be the troublemaker.” Arif gave me a sly look as he guided me to a far corner of the restaurant, and I nodded, because surely life is too short for small talk.

There were six of us seated at the table. Four middle-aged women — each one attractive, intelligent, engaging, successful. A quiet-spoken serious young man with a shock of brown hair. And me, wearing camouflage-colored Yankees cap and a few days’ worth of stubble.

This was an “intergenerational dinner,” hosted by the Hoot Owl, a cozy restaurant in upstate New York with a loyal local following. The event was organized around a series of questions designed to elicit discussion.

Anne had been tasked as the table’s guide, and now she opened with the first question – what makes you feel most alive? Continue reading “More Nature, Less Technology” →

The Long Brown Path

Peak-bagging, running, barefooting, exploring, and other minimalist adventures in nature

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