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”→
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.
The Long Brown Path 