Ouch, it's gravel

I'm trying hard not to become obsessed by the barefoot lark, but it's not easy.

This morning, I remembered that down the side of the house we have a thin strip of very sharp gravel between the house and the fence.  We are quite overlooked by neighbours, and there is a touch of embarassment factor that goes with wandering around barefoot (I can see the neighbours twitching their curtains and commenting on the developing madness of the woman next door).  So under the pretext of righting the garden chairs which had blown over in the recent wind, I went out with nothing on my feet and trampled around on the gravel.

Well, I say trampled.  Obviously Ken says I should bend my knees and 'relax, relax, relax'.  I tried to spread the weight of my body on my feet, but I have to confess I found it mightly difficult to relax.  It was downright painful.  This is good - according to Ken - it will help me learn to move efficiently.  I'm not yet convinced.  When I got back indoors, I simply thought 'I could never run on that'.

Maybe I'll have another go later.  PS - I should stress that in fact I only stood on the gravel and lifted my feet up and down a few times.  Trampled would be entirely the wrong word (Ken, I hear ya!).