Ever since I went barefoot over three years ago, I’ve scoffed at the “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch a disease or infection?” comments. Ridiculous, I thought. I don’t walk around with open foot wounds, and my feet aren’t a bacterial highway to my orifices. After this past week, however, I’m realizing that maybe a little fear would have served me well.
Here’s an abbreviated version of my real-life horror-story to scare a little caution into the barefooting community.
Saturday: Post-dinner stomach rumbles evolved into suspected food poisoning. I’ll spare you the details, but any food sent me an immediate angry message that kept me miserable and sleep-deprived for three days.
Tuesday morning: Stomach turned a corner for the better, so despite my fatigue and weakness, I attempted a run. Managed 8 miles but noticed a mild heel ache. Did I bruise it without noticing? Was it a hint of plantar fasciitis? I had sustained a minuscule cut on that heel a week ago, but that had healed. Not overly concerned, I did some gentle self-massage and slathered some DMSO – a controversial chemical thought to promote soft-tissue healing – over the heel and ankle. I then went about my day, walking barefoot and pleased that I was back up and running again.
Tuesday evening: Foot had gotten progressively worse and I’m feeling notably drained. Must have overdone it with the run. Right before bed, my groin region begins to hurt and I’m feeling chilled and achy. 101.5° fever. A little internet research educates me that swollen lymph nodes in the groin indicate injury to the foot or leg. The pieces of the puzzle are starting to fit together.
Wednesday: I awaken to some rapidly spreading and intensifying foot pain, leading to a trip to the ER. It’s an infection, the doc confirms, and gently suggests I run in shoes. I respectfully tell him I’ll opt for this over chronic fractures and tendonitis. He accepts my decision, prescribes an antibiotic and tells me I’ll be feeling better by the morning.
Thursday: I awaken to a throbbing foot and the terrifying sight of deep red streaks climbing up my ankle. Back to the ER it is, hopping on one foot most of the way. They give me an IV of vancomycin (an antibiotic) and release me six hours later with prescriptions for two more antibiotics. So. Many. Drugs.
Fast forward two days later, and I can almost walk normally. The infection’s under control and the swelling has mostly subsided, though there’s an ugly patch of broken blood vessels and bruising that’s tight and tender to the touch. Thank god for modern medicine. The alternative of losing a limb (or worse) to a simple infection – a reality that our ancestors and many less fortunate populations around the world today still deal with – is humbling and sobering. That’s a topic for another day.
So what caused the infection? The docs didn’t really care to look into it, but assumed it was the old cut on my heel. I suspect otherwise, as the infection never actually extended to the cut itself. The other possibility, that admittedly creeps me out, is that the DMSO – a “universal solvent” – absorbed some nastiness from the outside world directly into my skin and bloodstream. The chemical is not approved for medical use on humans, apparently for good reason. I’ll never know the exact cause, but my DMSO is enjoying its new home in the trash.
“I told you so!” I can hear you all crying in anti-barefoot triumph. Not so fast. Incidentally, I sustained a similarly serious foot infection a decade ago from a blister caused by … poorly fitting shoes. Life happens, unpredictably and uncontrollably, shod or barefoot. As abandoning my shoes and rediscovering the power of my feet has introduced so much strength, health and joy into my running and everyday life, re-embracing shoes is nowhere on the horizon. Sure, barefoot running carries its unique set of risks. But I’ll take the occasional bruise and fluke infection over repeated broken bones and torn tendons any day.
Stay safe and run happy!