who's that chick who's rocking kicks?

Today, being a holiday, is reserved for a very special topic: my shoes. Because everybody needs a good foot story to start their day.

I've had foot problems as long as I could remember. As a baby, I would pull off my socks at every occasion, much to my mother's displeasure. There are albums full of photos where I'm pulling my socks off, even as an infant I hated having my feet covered. True story.

I distinctly remember an event that happened when I was four years old that should have been traumatic and instead has been the point of reference that definitively marks my history of foot anomalies. It was a hot summer day in western Texas. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, it's a desert in a mountainous region that's crazy-hot. Like, Las Vegas hot. Arizona hot. Cook-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk hot. I wanted to play outside but I was too impatient to wait for my aunt to fasten my shoes for me, so I ran out the front door barefoot. She chased after me, yelling that I would hurt myself on the pavement. I stood on the sidewalk dumbfounded wondering what all the fuss was about. What do you mean I'll burn my feet? My feet are just fine. And thus began a lifetime of shoe avoidance.

At the ripe age of four I learned that my feet don't burn on hot pavement.

Sandals, flip-flops, open-toed shoes of all varieties were the only shoes I would wear, despite violating all the rules of my school's dress code. If the shoes allowed me to skip the socks and gave me the freedom to slip them on and off with ease, they were mine. I hated wearing shoes.

Skip forward to the year 2000. We were new to the state of Iowa and new to a concept known as winter. I swear, in all my life, I never experienced below-freezing temps before moving to Iowa, and suddenly I was thrust into life in this state during the worst blizzard in recent history (look it up in an almanac, it's the truth). My desert-raised, flip-flop wearing self didn't own a coat heavier than a windbreaker, so snow boots were definitely not in my wardrobe. I learned quickly that I didn't even need snow boots.

My freak show feet play both ways: I can't feel freezing temperatures either.

I've always thought of my abnormality as a fun trick, it's a great ice breaker, and I love seeing the look on people's faces when I prove that I really am impervious to temperature. Hot water? No biggie. Solid ice? You betcha. However, there are limits. I can actually FEEL my feet. Some people confuse my temperature insensitivity to extend to all forms of insensitivity. Believe you me, it hurts when you stomp on my foot, so please don't stomp on my foot. I can feel touch, tickles, tingles, rocks, sand... just about everything the same as you do. Except water.

Don't ask me what it feels like to stand in water because there are no words to describe it. But I promise, it's nothing like you ever felt. I know my feet are wet, but for the life of me I cannot tell you if the water is warm or hot or cold. It's weird. The only reason I know it's weird is because I have perfectly normal sensation in my hands and it's a real mind fuck when I have my hands and feet submerged in water at the same time.

I feel pain in my feet if the temperature is extreme (boiling water, below zero temps) or if I'm exposed for a prolonged period of time so thankfully I'm not ever in any danger of causing serious nerve or tissue damage because I'll know there's a problem before it becomes serious. Despite this, I've had several doctors tell me over the years that I should have this checked out, a suggestion I never followed.

Until I met my neurologist.

I told her about my temperature insensitivity and my problems with shoes and she pulled out a fancy doctor instrument (a paperclip) and started prodding my feet. My tactile sensations and reflexes are intact, and after conducting an EMG she deduced that I have no serious nerve damage. Her official diagnosis: hereditary neuropathy. For some reason, nerve connections between my feet and brain never developed properly, so signals from my feet get interpreted in abnormal ways (i.e. no temperature response, discomfort from having the foot constrained). There is a real, physical reason that I can't feel temperature and have difficulty with shoes.

A lifetime of shoe hatred was explained with a few squiggly lines from an EMG, and suddenly I had a doctor giving proof that normal shoes are not meant for me.

A few months before I got the confirmation I so desperately needed, I had hypothesized something of the sort and took it upon myself to experiment with shoes. Shortly after I had resigned myself to making the gym a habit, I started having foot problems that would not go away, despite having changed shoes no less than eight times. Frustrated, I ditched the shoes altogether and found that the heavens parted when I exercised barefoot. Knowing that the gym wouldn't tolerate that for long, I began doing research on barefoot-style shoes.

In November 2011, I bought a pair of AdiPure trainers by Adidas. I made the very conscious decision to go with the new kid on the market, as opposed to the more established Vibram FiveFingers, because of my familiarity with and fondness for Adidas products.

The unfortunate black coloring lead to the horrible nickname "monkey toes." Gross.

I wholeheartedly believe that I would not have been able to accomplish as much success with my weight loss had I not discovered these shoes. The pain I had with normal trainers was so severe that there was absolutely no way I could ever incorporate exercise regularly.

I was extremely pleased with how things progressed with the AdiPures that I knew I would need a second pair before I wore out the first. Instead, I decided to diversify: in February 2012, I purchased my first pair of Vibram FiveFingers.

Classic, in taupe & clay.

Despite spending months in AdiPures and a lifetime of general shoe avoidance, my transition into FiveFingers was rough. The really are not joking when they say it takes months to adjust. The biggest problem for me was how the shoes stretched out my smallest toe. The Classic are as advertised, they truly are foot gloves. A few weeks after I started my FiveFingers journey, boyfriend alerted me to a crazy-sale on a pair of FiveFingers that I could not resist.

Sprints, in olive and baby blue.

I wasn't thrilled about the color, but the price ($30 shipped) couldn't be beat and I was interested in trying something with a little more grip. The Classic, while great for walking around and flexible activities such as Pilates, didn't offer much in other departments. The Sprint model is great for both indoor and outdoor activities and is usually my go-to shoe for the gym. It's flexible enough to allow full range of motion and circulation on the elliptical, but it has a little more substance to it which translates well to outdoor running (even on wet surfaces).

I ordered the Bikila LS solely for the fact that they looked more like normal shoes. The stares are relentless when striding around in public wearing FiveFingers and I was hoping that a more conventional-looking pair would ease some of the curiosity/repulsion that comes with wearing these shoes.

Nope, still monkey toes.

Again, they were on crazy-sale online so I bought a pair blindly hoping that I had ordered the right size. Months later, I'm still not sure if I did. The first few weeks wearing these shoes were just awful, they were a hair too short and would cut off circulation if I spent too much time sitting. I would spend a couple of hours a day wearing them at work, praying and wishing that they would stretch and my $50 would not have gone to waste. It took about a month of intense stretching and smashing and twisting, but I was finally able to take them out for a run. The first run was exhilarating, so much that I feared I would never again wear my other FiveFingers. To this day, I still fight the desire to favor these shoes over the others. They're best saved for the days that are spent strictly outdoors, as I feel the best qualities of the Bikila LS model are wasted on indoor gym activities.

Still learning to love these.

At the REI store in Pittsburgh, I had a moment of weakness and bought these on impulse. They were on sale in my size, and in all honesty I had been stalking them online for months, I just never had a reason to pull the trigger. I ran about 16 miles in these on a rugged outdoor pebble track and they were divine, but the one time I took them to the gym was horrible. They're stiff in the heel, arch, and toes, which provides great protection against the outdoor elements, but unfortunately I doubt I will ever be able to bring these to the gym for the very same reason. I am seriously looking forward to trying these out in the mud someday, and I like knowing that I have another pair to swap out with the Bikila LS so I don't wear them out too quickly.

There is a purpose and place for all five of my barefoot inspired shoes, and I don't believe I could have achieved the same effect with just one pair. I'm probably set in the shoe department for at least the next year and it would take one hell of a sale to get me to buy another since I feel like all my foot needs are met with my current line-up. Overall assessment: they're expensive, and oh-so-worth it.