Barefoot Josh at the Lexington Hawg Run 5K. Photo: Donnie Roberts/The Dispatch

[Ed. note: Ever see this shoeless guy running around Madison/Mayodan? That's MadMayo Runner Barefoot Josh, Rockingham County's go-to guy for all things barefoot running. Give him a shout next time he speeds past.]

I’m not a big believer in balance. I’m not against it, I just don’t think balance exists in nature as much as we think it does. We’re a pattern-seeking animal, after all; it’s easy to change our perception of reality to fit our conclusions.

If this were a balanced universe, my feet wouldn’t get tough until I’ve mastered barefoot running form. This has not been the case—my soles are very comfortable on abrasive surfaces. This isn’t necessarily a good thing. While I can handle distances over mildly technical terrain, I can also cheat my form. I don’t pay immediately for my slouching posture or my slapping feet.

In other words, my feet have developed faster than my technique. Not to a degree worthy of concern, but it’s something to pay attention to. After a few months of successful barefooting, you can’t assume you’ve mastered the technique just because your feet don’t hurt. If anything, you have to pay even more attention, much like you have to pay more attention in cold, wet weather when the feet are numb for the first mile or so.

I say this to explain a reaction I had recently as I was showing off my hill to a running buddy. I was driving, and as I made the turn onto Cedar Mountain Road, we spotted a “road construction” sign. Sure enough, they were repaving a section of “my” road. Nice, smooth, brand-new asphalt near the top. I suppose it’s necessary—the road is old and pitted and very abrasive. In other words, perfect for learning how to run barefoot. A bare foot is not allowed to slip or twist or slap or stomp without pain, regardless of how tough it is. If they repave the whole hill, I’m going to have to rely on mental discipline to avoid blisters and maintain form. And mental discipline is not my strong suit.

So, what was my reaction to seeing my hill becoming more comfortable? Dismay. Not because I’m a tough guy, but because I’d rather not rely on my thinking brain for anything. It’s let me down too many times.