First, I should watch the person I'm having trouble with like a hawk. That would be my wife. Second, I should become a beast in order to fight one.
I rode my bike across a stream. I used to get off the bike and push to the other side, because I thought I would fall over. But I managed to stay on the bike, defying my previous expectations. On my return trip my bike swirled in the mud of the stream and I had to stop and get off, but I didn't fall over. I managed to maintain balance, stepping into the stream with my bare foot, something that would be very uncomfortable with shoes on.
I have asked the question from the title to myself several times over the past several months, always with the genuine desire to know the answer. Then in a single moment - I do not remember what it was - it just popped into my head.
I like being out of the ordinary. It's daring and exciting and dangerous. Being ordinary is safe and boring and ... well ... ordinary. One can learn a lot by choosing to be unordinary, which he would otherwise not learn.
As a barefoot geocacher I get to visit very unusual places, so when the location is somewhere public, I'm twice as conspicuous.
When I still wasn't used to walking barefoot in public I was so self-conscious all the time I literally charted (mentally) the places I "conquered" barefoot. Once I "conquered" a place, I'd frequent it until I was comfortable barefoot. The tipping point was when I was returning alone from vacation for work and on the way I stopped at Croatia's capital city, Zagreb.
The first step out the back door introduced my body to a slight breeze and the soft sound of droplets hitting the paved path leading to the bridge just outside my backyard. As I step down the steps to the pavement I feel the first drops of warm spring rain tingling my bare feet. The breeze carries with it the scent of washed asphalt, damp earth, and water vapor.
This unusual escapade prompted a lot of talk. I even found out that being slightly crazy runs in the family - my grandmother once competed with her siblings to get the water from a community well in winter by going to the well barefoot on frozen snow (even I'm not crazy enough to try that). She said she cried from pain for two days.
It's been almost four weeks since I started out on my barefoot adventures and I'm still liking it. I walk around the house barefoot all the time now, whether we have guests or not. I have been told to put on some shoes or socks at least a couple of times, ("You'll catch cold!") but I just waved the issue away.