From: Gregory Eleuto Roybal
Subject: One-man barefoot "hike"
Date: 24 Jun 1996 11:04:09 GMT

	It's 3 a.m. and I must tell about the barefoot "hike" I just went on.
	I have been working late on a project and decide to go outside for a 
smoke. The building is empty except for me, and the campus I work at is 
nearly so on this pre-dawn Monday morning.
	I'm barefoot, of course, and the only surface I've felt underneath me 
for the past several hours have been smooth tile and low-shag carpet, so 
I look forward to the rough concrete sidewalk outside.
	Once outside, however, I hear distant lawn sprinklers calling my name. 
With cigarette in hand, I walk down the now-familiar sidewalk adjacent 
the building I work in and head to a nearby lawn. I notice the tiny bits 
of gravel on the sidewalk don't bother me as much as they did just a few 
weeks ago.
	I come to the edge of the sidewalk and step onto the grass. This lawn 
is only about 25 yards wide by 75 yards long. It's still wet with water 
and chilly because the temperature gets down to 40 degrees at night 
here. The grass is a little overgrown and is plush with each step but 
the ground itself is slick from the recent watering.
	As I make my way to the street on the other end of the lawn, the cold 
has made my feet a little numb. I am a bit concerned that I will step on 
something sharp and not notice it because of the numbness, but I am able 
to discern between the different textures of dirt and sand in the lawn's 
bald spots, so I decide to soldier on and trust my still-developing 
"radar."
	I make it to the street and walk on the smooth blacktop, my plan being 
that I will warm my feet up on the street that still carries the day's 
warmth. The black asphalt feels smoother and comforting compared to the 
tile floors I walked on just minutes before. I look at the lawn behind 
me and see a low spot where water has collected, so I make a wide circle 
and backtrack, making a beeline for the puddle.
	I walk on a trail that has been worn down in the lawn by bicyclists and 
pedestrians. Each step is something new...sand...gravelly 
dirt...twigs...hard, slimy mud....I arrive at the puddle and walk 
lengthwise through it. The water is chilly but I can feel the mud 
squishing through my toes and small rocks underneath as the water 
splashes past my ankles.
	I make it back to the sidewalk but march past the building. There are 
more lawns and paths I know of on campus that I want to walk on 
barefoot. I go through a parking lot that is littered with gravel, and 
it offers me my most challenging course this evening. There is only 
ambient light from distant lampposts to guide me on my walk this 
evening; I lean more on my other senses.
	I make my way to where the sprinklers are going full-blast, but the 
idea of running through them in this chilly air loses its appeal. 
Instead, I thread my way through the jets of water, bouncing about like 
a pinball on bumpers to avoid getting doused. The big expanse of grass I 
am on is uneven and patchy. I finally get back to a sidewalk where I see 
a couple of people getting out of a truck - the only ones I see on my 
walk - and they notice me. I wonder if they had seen me walking barefoot 
across the lawn. Instead of feeling self-concious like I sometimes do, 
however, I wonder if they entertain thoughts of taking off their shoes 
and running through the sprinkler, too.
	I go on a small tour of this section of the campus, alternating between 
sidewalks and grass and dirt. It's an easy course and I start looking 
for more challenging paths on my way back to my building. I walk past 
the spot where I noticed a barefoot girl much earlier in the evening and 
wonder if she felt the same sense of abandon I am feeling now.
	I think to myself that the tactile sensations lend themselves only to 
remind me that I am bonded to the earth below. The sensations I seek, be 
they wet grass or slippery mud or coarse concrete, aren't the end in 
themselves but a means of understanding. I think the understanding I 
look for is something along the lines of freedom. Where I used to have a 
sense of bondage in being barefoot (i.e., I can only walk in certain 
places) I become aware that the path below me, whatever it may be, can 
be walked upon regardless. True, the path might *feel* uncomfortable at 
any given step, but it doesn't keep me from being on it. And if it 
*feels* pleasant, I still want to try another one, even if I know it's 
not so pleasant.
	Forgive me if I rattled on too long or came off like a writer too much 
in love with his own words. I've been accused of being both. I simply 
needed to get this down in print before I lost it all.
	And now, I think I'll step outside for another cigarette....

G.
http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/1022/