Barefoot Boys

(I began writing this back in February 2010 when the media couldn't get enough of McDougall, Lieberman, and barefoot running in general. But for some reason, I put it aside. By now, the debate is dying down a bit, but every so often it pops up again (as it always will). Anyway, here's my two cents...)

"Oh for boyhood’s painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor’s rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools...
...
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt’s for work be shod,
Made to treat the mills of toil,
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!"

- from "The Barefoot Boy," by John Greenleaf Whittier

For many months, I have been trying to figure out why so many people -- so many non-runners -- have embraced the theory that running barefoot is the cure for all that ails the modern runner. I was bemused when Chris McDougall's book "Born to Run" became a best-seller, and mildly shocked when dozens of non-running friends and colleagues wanted to talk to me about it. (Full disclosure: I have read only excerpts from the book.)

Then, in January 2010, Daniel Lieberman, a professor in the Department Human Evolutionary Biology at Harvard University, and several colleagues rebooted the conversation with a paper in the journal Nature titled "Foot strike patterns and collision forces in habitually barefoot versus shod runners." Lieberman, et al. found that the habitually barefoot runners tended to land on the fore-foot or mid-foot (we knew that already) and generated smaller collision forces on impact than shod rear-foot strikers. The paper also raised the possibility, but did not present evidence, that such forefoot and midfoot gaits might help protect the feet and lower limbs from the common impact-related injuries that plague contemporary runners.

Lately, WGBH Boston has been running a promo for its news coverage that features a reporter talking about Lieberman's study. Almost every morning I hear it, posing the question of whether running barefoot is better for the body than running in shoes.

I'm not surprised that runners would be interested in the science that informs choices about what, if anything, should be worn on the feet. From my personal experience, most dedicated runners are curious about anything that promises to help them improve their times or reduce their injuries. Bounding, plyometrics, form drills, core workouts, cross-training, walking breaks, water running, POSE running, backwards running, Yoga, LSD (no, not the hallucinogen) -- if we think it might work, we'll try it, and if it helps us run faster, we'll swear by it. For dedicated runners who are thinking about trying barefoot training, let me recommend some links to good informationabout the pleasures and pains, risks and benefits of such training:

* Ambling Barefoot (blog post from Dr. Bob Chasen)

* Web Site of Harvard University Skeletal Biology Lab (D. Lieberman et al.)

* Should You Be Running Barefoot? - Amby Burfoot Column in Runner's World

* Barefoot Running - New Evidence, Same Debate (Science of Sport)

But all of the above doesn't explain why recreational runners and non-runners are so taken by the barefoot movement. The general pubic has never cared so much about what we runners do. So what's the big deal about running without shoes?

One explanation is that people always love a story about how the conventional wisdom turns out to be wrong. McDougall, in particular, is merciless in skewering the shoe companies for selling us ever more advanced shoe models that, he claims, contribute to more running injuries, not fewer. I believe he describes modern running shoes as "coffins for the feet." I'll bet THAT phrase caused some consternation at Nike's Corporate Headquarters.

But there's another explanation for the popular interest, and that is that this isn't a story about running, only, but about the evils of our culture and civilization. Reading some of the pro-barefoot manifestos out there, it's clear that back-to-barefoot is another way of saying "back-to-nature."

Here's Chris McDougall:

"In the hills of Mexico, a tribe of Indians carries an ancient secret: a diet and fitness regimen that has allowed them to outrun death and disease. We set out to discover how the rest of us can catch up."

Does that phrase -- "outrun death and disease" -- bother anyone else? I know it's just journalistic hyperbole, but barefoot or not, no one outruns death and disease. Our fate is to grow old and die and shedding our shoes won't reverse the process, at least not for very long.

Ah, but McDougall is really talking about something more than longevity; he's talking about a kind of primitive ideal that defies the conventions and expectations of modern society and office-bound respectability. To me it seems that this enthusiasm for the Tarahumara and their barefoot running is fueled by a desire to throw off the trappings of what Freud called Civilization and Its Discontents. Further, it is a desire to be that barefoot boy of the poem, and experience that symbolic return to boyhood. Yes, I wrote "boyhood," not "childhood." Have you noticed how almost all the people promoting the benefits of the unshod lifestyle are men? Do you wonder why women aren't jumping on back-to-basics bandwagon?

I wonder if the adjectives "primitive" and "barefoot" seem quite so idyllic to the gender responsible for bearing and caring for the kids.

And I expect that those adjectives aren't associated with longer life and better health by everyone -- I would guess that runners from countries where shoes are a luxury aren't quite as sentimental about the barefoot experience.

As you can tell, I'm not a big fan of the hype around barefoot running. But I have to admit that McDougall et al. have performed at least one valuable service to the greater running community: they have pointed out that not all of the techno-centric innovations of modern footwear have been good to athletes. A little less shoe is often a good thing, and I'm happy to bury the idea that the right shoe will make all your problems disappear. I don't care what they say -- the ground is firm and gravity brings us all back to earth with a thud.

That is our fate, and that is the fate of all philosophies that promise to take us back to "boyhood's painless play."