Barefoot Training and Gym Etiquette
My wife’s high-end health club has an indoor waterfall behind the front desk. It’s the kind of place where you might find an empty Perrier bottle left on the gym floor. I wouldn’t want to be a member, but I’d love to try it out with one of her guest passes. Unfortunately, she forbids it. The issue is that, when it makes sense, I like to train barefoot. My wife says this kind of behavior would be a violation of gym etiquette, and for her personally, quite embarrassing.
At my ordinary commercial gym, I’ve been training barefoot for at least three years, without incident. But then today, my streak ended. A member confronted me about my uncovered feet.
The argument in favor of barefoot training is that: 1) you are aligning movement patters with your natural mechanics, 2) you build foot strength by relying on your feet (rather than your shoes) for force and stability, and 3) you elevate foot health when you come in contact different textures — outside, things like grass, pebbles, and sand; inside, things like rubber mats, low-pile carpet, and the platform of a leg press machine.
After hobbling through most of the last decade, I’ll try any suggestion to improve foot and ankle function. I’ve suffered from a big toe bone cyst that required surgery, a peroneal tendon strain that took years to heal, and I’m currently dealing with plantar fasciitis (technically “plantar heel pain” since there’s no inflammation). My heel pain is better versus a year ago but it still limits my activity.
On the list of messages I’m sending to my younger self, I’m also adding: at any age and at any level, the best fitness program builds from the ground up.
In any event, for legs today, I did my goblet squats and shrimp squats barefoot. I kept my socks and shoes in my gym bag for my next exercise, a set on the 45-degree hyperextension bench. I finished, and as I walked away, a guy strode up to me and demanded I wipe down the bench’s footplate.
Because my wife softened me up on this topic, I wasn’t in the mood to argue. In fact, my first thought turned to the COVID vaccines. If this guy believes his shoes work — that they’ll shield his feet from my cooties — why does he care whether I wear mine?
Speaking of the response to COVID, I recalled when my gym removed all the benches from the men’s locker room to reduce the time spent mingling. To dress and undress, you had to sit on the floor, with everyone’s hands, feet, buttocks, whatever, all touching the same place. I doubt this guy complained then.
I also wonder if this guy has considered what’s happening with everyone’s bare hands — nonstop touching of dumbbells, barbells, machines, weight plates, and cardio equipment. As the father of a six-year-old, I can tell you that hands are way more germy and filthy than feet.
Anyway, I said ok, and I went to grab some of the disinfecting wipes that the gym provides. When I found every station empty, I remembered: one indication of this gym’s death spiral is its failure to consistently refill the disinfecting wipes. As a last resort, I headed into the men’s locker room. I yanked some paper hand towels out of the dispenser, walked over to the hyperextension bench, and rubbed the footplate with a couple dry sheets.
I hope this guy is happy.