Every summer, hundreds take to the parks and beaches, ditch their shoes, wiggle their toes in the grass and the sand—and with every step, I cringe.

Just in case you were raised by wolves, allow me to educate you: you need to wear your goddamn shoes. You should not run about willy-nilly in public places like beaches, forests, or parks without wearing some protection! I say this from personal experiencing the perils of ignoring common sense and my mother’s advice (but more on that later).

Cuts, Stings, Bites

There is a whole world of things that typically pass beneath your soles with no event: bent nails, flattened snails, and even those little pokey balls of death. But without shoes, the ick has no sympathy for your feet.

On the beach, sea glass is lovely stuff—smooth, pastel, beautiful. But do you know how it got that way? By rolling around, broken, in the water or through the sand for quite some time. And when you’re just walking innocently along the waterline, that newly donated (read: littered) glass will take no mercy on your unshod feet. Since water shoes are some of the dorkiest things to hit department stores since fanny packs, I typically go with some ol’ fashioned flip flops. They protect my feet from the bad stuff, while still allowing me to enjoy the water and sand.

Walking on soil in forests or fields can also expose you to a much livelier problem: hookworms. If you step on hookworm larvae, they can enter your body through your skin, causing rashes, allergic reactions, and infections. The hookworms will take up shop in your intestine, and requires some seriously nasty meds to flush out. What were you thinking, taking off your hiking boots like that?!

Last but not least, bees reign supreme as that minor annoyance that will completely ruin your picnic (and discomfort you for the next two weeks). Even with the generous assumption that you have been blessed without a bee allergy, tromping across a grassy field has never inspired as much regret as that moment when bee stinger meets squishy inter-toe flesh. If only you had slipped on some tennis shoes…

Broken Bones

So what makes me so passionate about pedal protection? Running around barefoot landed me with four broken bones.

Once upon a time, I attended a lovely beginning-of-summer BBQ, pumped to catch some rays and eat some burgers. Obviously, I decked myself in the quintessential California summer uniform: jean shorts, a tank top, and my comfiest sandals. After our second round of gooey, semi-charcoal’d cheeseburgers with a side of sour-cream-and-onion Lays, one of my compatriots whipped out a disc and challenged us all to a cut-throat game of Ultimate Frisbee.

Game on!

Of course, my similarly shod friends and I chucked off our sandals and commandeered the largest patch of grass we could: running, laughing, overthrowing the Frisbee.

My team—currently in the lead—was just about to thump our opponents with yet another landmark goal, when a defenseman ran up to block my catch. I turned, trying to thwart his attempt, and three of my toes twisted in the grass and folded under my foot. As my weight shifted onto my toes, they broke, and I fell to the ground. Instinctively, I brought up my forearm to protect myself—but instead of my arm breaking my fall, my fall broke my wrist.

It took all of my summer break for my wrist to heal, overlapping with a vacation to New York (in which I schlepped around in a bootie and sling and had to explain the game of Ultimate Frisbee to every single New Yorker in town) and my university orientation days (when I broke down in tears because I couldn’t write all the information being thrown at me).

So listen up, kids. You do not want to deal with all that. Put on your damn shoes.