Why Bad Advice Travels Faster Than Good Shoes
Feet. They’re weird, aren’t they? I mean, twenty-six bones crammed into a tiny arch, tendons pulling like rubber bands, skin that somehow survives concrete, stilettos, sweaty sneakers, and Lego landmines. And yet—aching feet are everywhere. Teachers, nurses, delivery drivers, even people like me sitting too much but then walking 10 miles in one day because I thought “steps = health.” Spoiler: the blisters didn’t agree.
So why does bad advice about walking and sore feet spread so easily? Same reason gossip does. It’s spicy, it’s simple, it makes people feel like they know a “secret.” “Just cut your shoes wider.” “Ignore it, you’re fine.” “Flat feet? That’s why your whole life hurts.” (Really? Thanks for the diagnosis, Karen.)
The boring truth—that walking is complex, that pain has multiple causes, that fixes require effort—isn’t sexy. Nobody goes viral saying “wear supportive shoes and stretch your calves.” But say “dip your feet in Coke Zero for instant pain relief”? Suddenly you’re trending on TikTok. Humans love shortcuts, even when those shortcuts are… broken.
So. Let’s rip into the worst offenders. Five terrible pieces of advice about walking and aching feet. We’ll mock them first (they deserve it), then smash them with something closer to reality.
Myth #1: “Just Buy Cheap Shoes, They’re All the Same”
This one drives me nuts. Shoes are not all the same. You can’t tell me the flimsy $9 slip-ons from a discount rack are “basically the same” as a real pair of running shoes. That’s like saying a kiddie pool is basically the same as the Pacific Ocean. Both wet. Both… technically true. But come on.
I’ve made this mistake. Thought I was saving money by buying knockoff sneakers at a market stall. By mile three, my heels were screaming like car alarms. By mile seven (don’t ask why I didn’t stop), my toenails looked like they were planning an escape.
The messy truth: shoes are equipment. They’re scaffolding for your skeleton. Walking in bad shoes is like sleeping on a stone floor and wondering why your back hurts. Sure, budget matters. But you can find affordable supportive shoes if you actually try. Stop equating “cheap” with “smart.”
Myth #2: “Flat Feet Always Mean Bad Walking”
Ah yes. The flat-foot shaming. Everyone knows someone who’s been told “your arches are flat, you’re doomed.” Parents panic, relatives whisper, shoe sales clerks get that “aha!” face.
Except not all flat feet are evil. Many are flexible, strong, and pain-free. My cousin has pancake arches, and she ran the London Marathon last year (in the rain, mind you, and finished grinning). Meanwhile, my “normal” arched friend complains every week about sore heels.
Here’s what’s actually true: it’s not the shape—it’s the function. Do your feet hurt? Do they hold you up without collapsing like soggy cardboard? That’s what matters. Orthotics help some, yes, but throwing supports at everyone with low arches is like giving glasses to people who already see fine. Pointless.
Myth #3: “Barefoot Walking Will Cure Everything”
This one. The barefoot evangelists. They’ll tell you to toss your shoes, walk barefoot everywhere—on asphalt, in the mall, through the subway (gross). Their mantra? “We evolved barefoot.”
Okay, yes, humans did evolve barefoot. On soil, grass, sand. Not on cracked sidewalks and hot asphalt. Not on 2025 city streets littered with broken vape cartridges and Starbucks lids.
Barefoot walking can build foot strength. I’ve tried it on the beach, and it does feel good, grounding even. But the idea that going barefoot on concrete all day will “fix” aching feet? No. That’s like saying you’ll cure back pain by tossing out your mattress and sleeping on a garage floor.
Truth bomb: try it if you want, but transition slowly. Do it on safe surfaces. Don’t be surprised when your plantar fascia screams after a week of “natural living.”
Myth #4: “Ignore the Pain, It’ll Toughen You Up”
Classic bad advice. Pain is weakness leaving the body! (Shouted by people limping into the ER.)
I once ignored heel pain for months because I thought I was “being tough.” Result? Plantar fasciitis. Six months of stabbing morning pain that made me hobble to the bathroom like a ninety-year-old. Was it worth it? Absolutely not.
Pain is not progress here. It’s your body’s way of flashing hazard lights. Ignoring foot pain is like ignoring the check-engine light on your car. Eventually, the car doesn’t run.
Reality: sore muscles after a workout = fine. Chronic foot pain after standing = not fine. Address it. Stretch calves, change shoes, maybe even (wild idea) see a doctor. Toughness isn’t ignoring pain—it’s actually fixing the damn problem.
Myth #5: “Gel Insoles Fix Everything”
Ah, the marketing dream. Just buy a pair of squishy gel insoles and all your problems vanish. Your feet will feel like they’re “walking on clouds.”
I’ve tried them. Spoiler: clouds are wet and unstable.
Insoles are tools, not miracles. They cushion, redistribute pressure, sometimes help. But slap them into garbage shoes, and you’re just making trash more comfortable. It’s like spraying perfume on a dumpster—it still stinks underneath.
Reality: custom or high-quality insoles prescribed by professionals? Great. Random gel pads from the pharmacy? Hit or miss. They slide around. They wear out. They mask, but don’t cure. Don’t expect jelly to rebuild your gait.
Feet Deserve Better Than Fairy Tales
So here’s where we land: feet don’t care about shortcuts. They don’t care about myths, or Instagram hacks, or your friend’s cousin’s miracle gel insoles. They care about mechanics, about support, about how many hours you stood in line at Costco last Saturday.
Bad advice spreads because it’s shiny and easy. But shiny and easy is how you stay limping. The boring truth works better: wear supportive shoes, rest, stretch, strengthen, get help when you need it. Not glamorous. Just effective.
And that’s the point. Feet aren’t here for glamour. They’re here to hold you up, every damn day. Respect them. Don’t drown them in garlic oil and bad advice.
Next time someone says, “Walk barefoot on concrete, it’ll cure you,” smile. Then walk away—comfortably, this time.