"Put some shoes on," the contractor yelled out his pickup window as he passed me on the road. It seems that truck drivers are the ones most likely to be irritated at sharing the road with me on my bike or seeing a barefoot runner. I had been busy all day and finally had time to get my three miles in. Last week I ran thrice for two miles each. This week, I'm planning to run thrice for three miles each. I was onto my second mile when Joe Contractor yelled at me. Not even two hundred yards later my left forefoot pad got that sharp pain. I had already found a couple pointy stones on this run but they had all rubbed off quickly, not this one. I stopped and rubbed my foot then resumed. No good. I stopped and sat down and rubbed it better. Still no relief. The third time I sat on a wall and really studied my foot. The location of the pain while I ran was not the location of the offender which was closer to the center of my foot. I'm not sure if it was a thorn or a piece of glass or a sharp pebble. But it needed a good digging out with my fingernails. Finally, sweet relief. My foot felt fine again and I finished the run in good time. I don't need no stinking shoes.