I started NEULO in 2023 with a fairly simple problem statement: I had been running in minimalist shoes for four years by that point, and I couldn't find anything made in Japan that was built with the same care as Japanese craft industries I admired — ceramics, knives, textiles. The shoes available here were mostly imported. The few domestic options prioritized look over function. I thought I could do something different.
Two years in, that problem statement holds. But almost everything about how I thought I'd solve it has changed. This is an attempt to write down what actually happened, without the retrospective polish that makes founders sound more prescient than they were.
What we shipped
The Arc Runner launched in early 2024. It was six months later than I originally planned and cost roughly 40% more to develop than I estimated. The natural rubber outsole — sourced from a family-run supplier in southern Thailand — was harder to work with than I expected. It had to be pre-treated before bonding with the canvas upper, and getting that bond right without synthetic adhesives took three failed prototypes. The fourth worked.
The Urban Flat followed in the autumn of 2024. This one was faster — we'd learned from the Arc Runner — but the fit required more iteration than the runner did. Everyday shoes are worn differently: people wear them for eight, ten hours at a time, often with socks, often on hard tile floors. The feedback from early wearers was specific and useful, mostly around heel fit. We made two modifications before settling on the current construction.
The Trail Glider came in mid-2025. It's the product I'm most satisfied with technically, because we got the outsole compound right — slightly more aggressive texture than the Arc Runner, still natural rubber, but with a modified profile that bites into wet rock and compacted earth without being a trail claw. I'd been testing it on Okutama ridgelines since February, and there are places on the descent from Mitake toward the Tama River where I genuinely wouldn't trust a thinner sole. The Trail Glider handles them.
What didn't work
The first thing I got wrong was the assumption that the people most ready to buy minimalist shoes were runners who already knew the terminology. We spent a significant amount of early writing explaining zero-drop, natural movement, plantar feedback — concepts that the barefoot running community already knew and the broader market found alienating. The language was technically accurate but tonally wrong for anyone who wasn't already converted.
I'm not saying those concepts don't matter — they're the entire point of what we make. But there's a difference between designing a shoe with clear biomechanical intentions and opening every conversation with biomechanics. We learned, slowly, that many of our best customers came through feel rather than theory. They tried the shoe, noticed something — the ground underfoot, the way their foot moved differently — and asked questions after.
The second thing I got wrong was lead time planning for small quantities. We're not running a factory. Our Asakusa workshop partner handles runs of 150 to 400 pairs, and their schedule depends on several other clients. I had to learn to think six months out rather than three, which compressed our ability to respond to feedback quickly. There were two occasions where a small fit adjustment — nothing complicated — added four months to availability because we had to wait for a production window. That's frustrating for people who want to reorder.
The third mistake is harder to admit. In the first year, I was too precious about every decision. Material changes required my sign-off. Packaging design — for a box — took three months. The instinct to control quality is correct, but it can become its own kind of obstruction when the team is small and every bottleneck traces back to one person. I've had to get better at deciding what actually requires my attention and what doesn't.
Pivots and adjustments
We changed the insole approach partway through Arc Runner's first production run. The original design had no removable insole — the logic being that a minimal shoe shouldn't have extra layers between foot and ground. Some customers found this worked exactly as intended. Others, particularly people transitioning from heavily cushioned shoes, found the bare construction too aggressive for daily use. We added a thin removable fiber insole (3mm, natural wool felt) as an optional insert. It's not a compromise — it's an acknowledgment that transition takes time, and making that time easier doesn't undermine the goal.
We also changed how we talk about the shoes. The early website was written for someone who already understood why minimalist footwear exists. The current version tries to start where people actually are: curious, maybe a little skeptical, willing to consider something different if the explanation is patient rather than evangelical. That shift took a while because I had to unlearn the assumption that more information always helps.
What the numbers tell us — and what they don't
I won't publish specific sales figures here. Partly because the numbers are still small enough that they'd invite comparisons that aren't useful. Partly because I think revenue at this stage is a lagging indicator of something more important: whether the shoes are working for the people wearing them.
What I can say: the return rate is low. Not zero — occasionally sizing is wrong, occasionally someone's expectations don't match reality — but consistently lower than I was told to expect for footwear. The emails we receive are disproportionately from people who want to know when a certain size will be back in stock, not from people who want to return something. That's meaningful.
We're not saying those responses prove anything definitive about our approach. But they suggest we're not losing people on product quality, which at this stage is the main thing to get right.
What we're focused on next
There are three things I want to do differently in year three.
First, we need a wider toe box on the next Arc Runner iteration. The current geometry is correct for many feet but not wide enough at the toe for people with a more pronounced splay. This is the single most common piece of feedback we receive, and it's actionable. We're working on a last modification with our Asakusa workshop that addresses it without changing the heel fit.
Second, I want to develop a more structured transition guide — not marketing copy, but a genuinely useful progression for people moving away from conventional shoes. We have informal advice in the Fit Guide, but it's scattered. There are specific exercises, specific timelines, specific surfaces to avoid in the early weeks. We have enough collective experience now to write something useful.
Third, we need to get better at communicating what the shoes are made of and why. The materials story — unbleached canvas, natural rubber, the elimination of most industrial finishing chemicals — is one of the most distinctive things about NEULO. But it often gets treated as a footnote rather than the core of what we're doing. I want to change that, not through marketing emphasis but through better explanation of what those material choices actually mean for the person wearing the shoe over time.
Two years is long enough to know what matters. It's not long enough to think you've figured most of it out. We're still adjusting.