The Barefoot Movement - A Goldilocks Story

If you are someone who has committed themselves to understanding the body and finding ways to help optimise it, then you would no doubt have stumbled upon the barefoot movement at some point in your career.

The idea of freeing the feet and allowing them to develop the strength and functionality that they were designed to have, would sound like a logical and even credible concept. There are experts and proponents of barefoot activity all over the world, each one giving their version of how and why spending more time barefoot is going to be the solution to any number of functional problems or ailments.

For about a decade I was one of those people and often referred to as “the barefoot guy”. As part of my Exercise Science post graduate training, I conducted a major literature review of the research on the topic, through this and through my own experimentation and application through ultra-distance running, I found myself in the position of being the person others came to for advice or guidance on the topic.

I wrote countless articles on barefoot running for running magazines and blogs, I was a brand ambassador for a barefoot shoe company, I was interviewed on podcasts, I even wrote a short book and filmed instructional videos on how to transition from traditional to barefoot style shoes.

During this time I watched as so many people fell into this movement, but ended up injured and ultimately went back to wearing whatever they had been wearing all along.

So how can something that appears to make sense with regard to biomechanics, neuromuscular function, and that is supported by the research be the cause for countless injuries?

Goldilocks will likely have the answer…

In 2009 a book titled Born to Run was published, written by an American author by the name of Christopher McDougall.

This book was perhaps the catalyst for much of my dedication to barefoot movement, and it no doubt inspired hoards of others to make a change out of their Nike Airs or Asics Kayanos and into a pare of shoes that at the time likely resembled a sock with a rubber sole.

This book told the true story of a tribe of native Mexicans who have existed in the Canyons of Mexico for hundreds of years, essentially unaffected by the modern world. The author sought out these tribes and spent time observing their behaviour. To his surprise he discovered them to be incredibly gifted runners, with running being a central part of their culture. And yes, they were barefoot.

The author’s further investigations into the topic led him to read more about evolutionary biology which he outlines in his book, describing the various unique anatomical features that the human body has which possibly make it a more efficient running machine than any other animal alive. Key amongst these are the biomechanical advantages found in the foot and ankle complex, the ability of our tendons to store and release energy and of our ability to sweat and breath at a rate we can control.

After reading this book and purchasing my first pair of barefoot shoes, I boldly set off on a run for about 30 minutes to allow my body to experience the freedom and function improving benefits of this type of movement. I was disappointed to find that it was in fact much more difficult than I had expected. Shortly after the run, I felt tension building in my lower legs, which was followed by uncontrollable and painful cramping in my calves. This went on for about two days.

Not to be dissuaded, I pushed on. I kept reading the research (limited as it was at the time), I studied those who had somehow found a way to be comfortable running barefoot, and I continued to try to condition my legs and feet to withstand the seemingly necessary punishment of running without any cushioning or structure in my shoes.

It may be useful at this point to describe what a “barefoot shoe” actually is.

The definition has changed over time, but essentially it is a shoe build on a minimal last (sole), that is ideally a flat platform (no raise at the heel), though less than a 2cm heel to toe drop is now considered a minimalist shoe. The sole of the shoe is generally very flexible, no arch support at all, no motion control foam or rubber, a wide toe box to allow the toes to spread and the upper part of the shoe should not limit the foot’s movement in any way.

All in all, it has a rubber sole to stop you cutting your feet on something sharp, and the rest of shoe is just there to keep your foot on the sole.

With such a stripped down and unsupportive shoe design, it is little wonder why so many people who take up barefoot running or just the wearing of barefoot style shoes end up in pain.

As human beings we have engineered shoes over the past 70 years or so that have progressively gotten more and more complex and structured. Gel cushioning, inflatable air pockets, high tech rubber compounds, arch supports, curved soles and any number of other advancements have led to us being able to rely on the shoe rather than our own body to protect us from force and load.

Through the invention of modern footwear we deengineered the need for our bodies to absorb shock and dissipate those forces safely.

So, we should not be surprised that if we suddenly do away with all that support that our body may protest a little… or a lot.

It was my experience, with persistence, gaining a better understanding of lower limb biomechanics, experimenting with technique and ultimately using myself as the crash test dummy, that I found barefoot shoes to be a positive and useful concept.

Over time I found that my feet and legs did in fact adapt to their new way of moving. I also found that foot pain, which I had experienced regularly throughout my life, was now a thing of the past. Additionally, my running efficiency improved and the number of running injuries I experienced decreased. Could it be that I was just becoming a better runner? I had considered that, so decided to spend some time running in other more traditional running shoes, only to realise that many of the problems I had overcome would simply return after changing back to “normal” running shoes.

Likewise, when I had to wear dress shoes for work or other non-minimalist shoes on occasion, I would get back pain or I just felt awkward when walking.

The answer it seemed was that like most things, there needed to be a period of adaptation to the change to barefoot.

So where does Goldilocks come into this story?

As the barefoot “cult” hit its peak about 10 years ago, many of the major shoe companies were introducing a minimalist offering, yet some went the other way, creating a maximalist design with overly thick soles to dampen any forces experienced underfoot.

Conversations in the running community and beyond had you picking a side of the fence to live on. You were either a barefoot guy/girl, or you were not.

As a clinician, I paid close attention to what people wore on their feet and the types and rates of injuries they were experiencing. What I saw led me to realise that anyone who allowed their pendulum to swing too far too quickly in either direction, opened themselves up to injury and pain.

Those who forced their feet to adapt to not having the support they were accustomed to, without an appropriate period of adaptation, ended up injured. Those who relied wholly on foam and rubber to take away any and all impact forces also ended up with their own set of injuries.

Goldilocks had to try the porridge that was too hot and too cold before she realised that the sensible option was somewhere in the middle.

The truth is that swinging the pendulum too far in any direction is problematic.

Attempting to go from traditional cushioned, structured shoes to minimalist shoes without applying an appropriate period of tissue conditioning and allowing for adaptations in movement strategies is foolish. Likewise, moving to excessive cushioning and support and thus unloading your soft tissues, joints and reducing your ability to perceive and manage impact forces, is also a recipe for deconditioning and a reduction of neuromuscular control.

So, after a decade and half of experimenting, studying and examining the pros and cons of living with less shoe under our feet, my personal and clinical impression is that it is generally a good idea. From an evolutionary and biomechanical perspective, allowing the feet to move as they were designed, to absorb force and to adapt to those same forces, and to be a dynamic and responsive functional unit, to me seems like good common sense.

However, if your lifestyle does not involve the need to manage high or repetitive loads through your feet (running, long walks, other sporting activities etc.), and you do not currently experience foot pain, or pain in other areas such as knees, hips, back, which may be attributed to what your feet and ankles are doing, then the old saying of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” may be relevant here.

Though, if you ever get to the end of the day and look forward to taking your shoes off, this may be a sign that those shoes are not serving you as best they might.

Be warned though! If you do decide to reduce the support, cushioning and control that your current shoes may be providing you, then do so progressively.

The human body is an adaptation machine. It can withstand incredible change, but only if given the time and opportunity to do so.