Why toe shoes

Homo sapiens emerged a couple hundred thousand years back. The bare foot state is the default human condition and shoes are a technology created by humans to adapt to different surfaces. If barefoot is the default state of our feet, it follows that the default design of footwear should be to provide some benefit to the foot protection, insulation, or even style while still allowing for the default bare function of the foot.

Modern shoes have crazy hard soles shaped like wedges elevating our heels. Or they ram our toes into narrowing boxes. Some shoes use springs or air to bounce us from step to step while others intentionally make us walk funny to tone our butts. Shoes that allow for feet to flex dynamically with each step and sense the ground — they are the exception. The naked human foot is a bone-filled, muscular, nerve-laden body part; one that has five appendages toes and interacts dynamically with the earth in all its variations.

It does this thousands upon thousands of times a day each time bearing our brute weight multiple times over. Creating a shoe that allows for the full dynamic functionality of a bare foot would be an incredible feat of engineering. Somewhere down the line things start to fall apart. Can a shoe be designed that simultaneously improves on the default state of the bare foot while still letting it function naturally?

Thankfully, we finally are seeing some true experimentation in designing and manufacturing foot friendly footwear. Feet are sensitive. Test this out by taking off all footwear and walking outside onto pavement or concrete.

Do it already. Your feet will feel the rough texture of the cement and the dustiness of the dirt. In the event that you step on something sharp you will instantly correct your weight and reduce impact and avoid pain.

The sensations in your feet direct how you step. The sensitivity of the foot, perhaps more than anything else, is why running barefoot teaches you proper, impact-reduced form. Abrasive friction dragging your feet across the ground, pulling, or pushing the pads of your feet against the earth will cause damage. One of the biggest selling points of a shoe is that they protect the foot, but the protection of a shoe comes at a price.

Protection impairs the sensitivity of our feet, reducing the need to minimize friction against the earth. Beyond just experiencing the ground directly, our feet have an awareness of where they are with respect to the rest of the body and surrounding objects.

This perception of space is called proprioception. Proprioceptive sense reminds me of being coordinated. Proprioception is what makes it seem easy to perform delicate procedures quickly and without conscious effort. It enables us to catch an accidentally dropped glass before it crashes and facilitates touch-typing words per minute without looking at a keyboard. How is the proprioceptive sense of the foot maintained when wrapped in a shoe? Feet flex and bend and have toes that splay naturally without any conscious effort with every step taken.

Toes give your foot purchase on the ground as they expand, stabilizing the foot with an instantly customized grip—like the roots of a tree. For that, inhabitants of New York City, I'm very sorry. With the assistance of a pen to boss around my toes, I stepped into those bad boys in about four minutes. I was feeling good and I was looking good.

My walking speed still wasn't top gear, but my stride was definitely less cautious. What was this new power I wielded? Should I use it for good or for evil? I settled somewhere in the middle We are talking three minutes to put on my shoes. I had a lot of positive momentum built up, so I threw caution to the wind, and decided I would wear them to the gym.

Was that a stupid idea? Working out is a substantial part of my life, and if I was going to give these shoes a fair shot, it didn't seem right to avoid toe-shoeing while exercising. Every dumbbell I grabbed was a dance with disaster. Luckily I was able to avoid any catastrophic accidents. My feet were so naive.

We're covered! With less material and padding separating my feet from the floor, I think I had a better grip on the ground when performing exercises.

My feet smelled like death and my toes hurt. However, I surmised that the pain was coming from the shoes just being flat-out new, rather than something being wrong. I remembered that becoming accustomed to Vibram Five Fingers can take weeks and weeks. I made it. I made it to the end of the work week. Between you and me, I wore socks and shoes to the gym again, and it was orgasmic. The warm, dry love that I felt was unparalleled. I wasn't cocky enough to wear the toe shoes at the gym a second time.

Your feet can only cheat feet-death once. For the final trek into the office, I felt like a nearsighted penguin, waddling without a cause. In addition to my wounded toes, the balls of my feet were really starting to scream.

Worst of all, thick cushioned treads on traditional running shoes make turning an ankle more likely, especially on uneven terrain. I chose to run through my neighborhood in the grassy sections between the sidewalk and the street.

Feeling the soft earth beneath my feet allowed my toes to grip, balance, and adjust my posture as I hit my stride. No lace pressure to adjust, no thick padded tread to stress my ankles, no socks to bunch up, and no excessive pounding sensations in the knees made running a joy. As I neared the last steps of my run, I sensed a smooth, writhing movement underfoot.

It slithered onto the road where I was able to make a positive identification. Unfortunately, the snake had pierced my thin shoe with one of its fangs and the bite was now bleeding. With no time to lose, we drove to the emergency room.

After spending several hours under observation, no symptoms appeared. Amazingly, the snake either withheld its venom, or because of my quick reaction, did not have time to release it into my toe.