Bartelblog

I decided to walk barefoot outside for one hour a day, for 30 days straight.
Not to break records or prove mental toughness, but because I was curious. Would it make me calmer? Help me sleep better? Feel more connected to my body?

The first days: easy beginnings

The first few walks felt great. The weather was kind, the forest soft. My feet sank into sand, I breathed deeper, and it all felt almost poetic. Me, the earth, a bit of sunlight.

Then I went into the city.

The real experiment begins

That’s where things changed. The ground was hard, the looks were sharper, and somewhere inside me a small voice started whispering:
“They think you’re weird.”

And that’s when I realized the actual experiment had nothing to do with my feet.
It was about that voice.

Every step on concrete wasn’t testing my soles. It was testing my comfort with being seen.

People watching me, me watching them

It’s funny how much energy goes into managing what other people might think of you. I used to believe I didn’t care that much. Turns out, I do.

I noticed every sideways glance, every slightly raised eyebrow.
At times I tried to walk confidently, pretending I didn’t care. Other times I wanted to explain myself. “It’s an experiment!” As if that would make it normal.

There’s something vulnerable about doing something ordinary, like walking, in a way that breaks the invisible rules.

The body part I didn’t expect to feel: my ego

After a while, the discomfort shifted. My feet toughened up, but my ego got thinner. I started noticing how often I move through life trying to fit in, to avoid attention.

That realization hit harder than any pebble.

So, did it work?

A little. My sleep got slightly better. I felt calmer after each walk, especially in nature. But that wasn’t the big lesson.

The real takeaway was this:
Doing something strange in public made me realize how often I hide.
And how freeing it can be when you stop.

What stayed with me

I still walk barefoot sometimes. Not every day, not religiously. But every now and then, just to remind myself what it feels like to be visible, and okay with it.

Maybe that’s what connection to the earth really means: not just feeling the ground, but feeling yourself standing on it, unapologetically.