The Super Moon appears through the clouds on my drive west to Kalamazoo, looking big and full on the horizon. A good omen, I think. And, just beautiful at five in the morning. Yep, I got up at four o'clock to get over to the Kalamazoo Marathon in order to pick up my schwag and bib before the race. Last year I indulged and stayed at the Radisson the night before, but it's just not worth the money, especially since I would be getting up early anyways. Early is early to this night owl.
Getting into the race Start is super easy. I park in the same spot as last year, right across from the start, with with easy access back out when I'm down. Way more convenient than the Detroit Marathon, for example.
Spring has sprung here in Michigan. Muggy. I bit chilly, but not too bad, and I may even be overdressed, with running shorts, running pants over them, and two wicking shirts, the short-sleeved one over the the long-sleeved. And, barefoot! First barefoot race of the year! I survived last year, so am fairly sure I'll do this one, but (and here come the excuses) I do have some doubts, which both come from the same reason: I've been suffering a plantar wart right on the ball of my left foot for years, way before I started running barefoot. I've been to many doctors, has it frozen, fried and cut off, but it always came back. Once running barefoot, I stopped bothering with doctors, becasue the wart would just 'wear down' (sort of like sandpapered off) from contact with pavement. On longer runs, it would basically get scraped out by the roots, leaving a small hold that sometimes even bled, but I've never mentioned it before, because it wasn't a big deal. In fact, if I didn't run long distance, I would probably just forget it. But this year, having finally gotten insurance, I decided to try the one last treatment that all doctors swore would get rid of it: laser surgery. So in February I had a large hole lasered into my hole. This caused me to miss a lot of running time during the unusually warm winter months here, so I've been feeling that my feet in general aren't quite as toughened up as they were last year at this time. Also, the surgery seems to have left scar tissue, which seems to be much softer than regular callus, so that I now seem to be getting that 'running hole' more easily, or sooner on runs. So...I'm not sure I can make this whole marathon without gouging a big hole in my foot.
I'm trying an experiment, stealing an idea from guitar players I've known, who, if their fingers are getting raw/cut up by the strings, apply super glue to the tips as an extra layer. After I park and get my bib and t-shirt (no schwag?!) I return to my truck and begin to apply layers of Super Glue: Let one layer dry, then apply another. I'm hoping this gains me time and distance, though I think it'll eventually wear through. Who knows? And if that doesn't work? I guess 'eep', because I ain't bringing any back up.
I'd have sworn that the marathon website said the race started at 7:30, but a PA announcement says it begins at 8:00. So I basically got here an hour and a half early. Oh well. There seems to be less marathoners this year. I think last year there were 1200, and the announcement says 700-800. I wonder why the drop? Also different: the half marathoners will start twenty minutes latter, and then the 5Kers and walkers. I didn't think there was a big problem last year, but oh well, I mean, the half marathon branches off pretty quick and takes a separate route. Would be nice to run with more people.
This is also International Barefoot Running Day (IBRD), so people all over the world are running barefoot somewhere. I would have run this marathon barefoot anyways, but the timing is nice. There are supposed to be some other folks from the Barefoot Runners Society website here today, we'd talked on line about all meeting up, so a half hour before the start I head over to the 'Tent City' area. I'm wearing some old socks to keep my feet a little protected until the actual start, and they get soaked as I walk out into the grass. No barefooters that I can see at the Kalamazoo Area Runners (?) tent. There were supposed to be a couple halfers, and maybe a couple 5Kers, plus Smelph joining me (again) for the full, but I cannot find them. Ah well.
I head over to the start area, which, since the halfers are being moved back behind us, feels pretty open. I'm over course drawing attention standing here in my socks: People can't seem to figure it out. Like, am I waiting for someone to bring me my shoes?! I do spot a minimalist runner, a woman in Five Fingers, but I don't think she's a BRSer.
The weather is nice though. Just a wee chilly so I cross my arms to get my hand in my pits. The sun is actually out, I'd thought we might get rain, though the start area is in shade right now.
And lo! Who should I end up standing right next to almost but Mart “Doc” Ott, ultramarathoner extraordinaire, plus his wife Mistique. He wasn't going to run this one, but signed up like four days ago. He too is experimenting: He's going to be crewing for someone doing the Badwater Ultra this summer, so he's got twenty zillion layers of clothes on to try and simulate being hot. Though the thing that gets me is that even someone crewing for Badwater has to train.
A crowd is finally forming, and Mark heads up to the 3:30 pacer area. I'm starting out with the 4:00 pacer. I ran a marathon last week, I'm not expecting any great time. Last year I ran this in 4:15. I'd usually start up a little faster, to take advantage of adrenaline, but this year I'm fine where I am. I'll still probably drop back at some point.
And without too much hoopla, we're off! I remember this first section of road: it's rough. Not with pebbles, the pavement is just laid out 'bumpily', I'm sure there's some term for it. My strategy is to run on the painted lines as much as possible, they're much smoother, but here there aren't many, and the road is so old that the painted lined are actually where all the cracks are.
The good thing about this race is the slight downhill here at the beginning. Without really meaning too, I do that first mile a little ahead of the 4:00 pacer. And we get into a cobblestone section, which some barefooters on the BRS site have said they don't like, but I'm fine with it. Those bricks are nice and smooth.
The pack spreads out pretty quickly. We're going through downtown Kalamazoo, which, if it weren't for the race supporters, would be deserted. But the people lining the streets are very enthusiastic, which is nice. On a funny note, I see a sign that says, “Chuck Norris never ran a marathon!” Hell yeah!
I'm carrying my Amphipod bottle, so can scoot through the first fluid station. I really tried to stay hydrated yesterday, and this morning, though the downside of that is feeling like one has to piss all the time. But I just feel like I've been terrible about hydration, and about nutrition, though that went out the window when I had a pizza at the heavy metal Buzzfest music festival in Jackson. It wasn't even good pizza....
Oh, more excuses: I've been having this minor sore spot on the top area of my right shin. I don't know if it's shin splints or what, nor if it was caused by running, or biking, or whatever, but for some reason it has come on with a vengeance as soon as I started running. I keep thinking it will go away, that it's mental, but man, I feel close to limping. I thought barefooters weren't supposed to get injured!
Fortunately there are distractions, like the awesome women runners. I've fallen in love a couple times already, though of course I must acknowledge that I may be falling in love with them because they are inaccessible and kind of literally running away from me. If one of them actually tried to talk to me I'd probably freak out.
A couple of fellow runners ask about barefoot running, and one guy seems particularly interested, saying that he's read about the health benefits. I give him my quick spiel about how I couldn't run for a year and a half due to the dreaded plantar fasciitis, and how when I tried running barefoot the PF vanished. We're running about the same pace and start to talk about other things, like other races. He's slightly older than I, getting the marathon bug, and asks about the ultras I ran last year. We also just go on to other things, like music, and health. As we're doing this, we're running about the Western Michigan University campus, with wide open (and smooth!) roads. He ran this last year as well, and lives in the area, so knows all the buildings and where we're going from here.
Having someone to run with, and more importantly talk with, really helps pass the time, and keeps me at a regular pace. When I run by myself, even in a race, I tend to go off into la-la land and run a little slower. Right now, we're actually ahead of the 4:00 pacer and our pace feels ok. I could even be running faster. My feet feel ok, though when we flow back out of the campus and into some neighborhoods, the streets get rough again. And there are even some smoother sections 'spoiled' by small gritty pebbles. Damn the pebbles!
The clouds are clearing, meaning the sun is coming out and the temperatures is rising. I'm starting to feel a little overdressed. I'm tempted to just go shirtless, though on the other hand, the wicking shirts are damp, so therefore keeping me cool.
Yeah, I think my experiment has failed: I'm feeling that spot on my....I almost said 'left ball', but that would be another problem. The ball of my left foot. At Mile 13 it's been scraped pretty thin. So, ok, I wonder how this is going to play out.
But my partner and I are sticking together, kind of surrounded by some of the same people. I called my place in the Start pretty well—I'm not passing anybody, nor is anybody really passing me. I'm still trying to run on the paint lines when possible, which really helps. Even sometimes just getting my left foot on the paint line helps, as my right foot is fine.
Around Mile 20, coming through a fluid station, we hear one of the volunteers yell out, “And here comes the four hour pacer!” and I say to the guy with me, “They're catching us!”
“Yeah, I know. This is about where they caught me last year. Feel free to go without me if you want.”
What he doesn't realize is that he's been inspiring me to keep up this pace. Without him, I would've slowed down already. I'm thinking I may not be able to keep up with him much longer.
And then suddenly the 4:00 pacer is right next to me. I'm slightly surprised because I would've thought I'd have heard a pack of runners coming up behind me, but when I look around, she's on her own.
“Wait a minute, where's your group? Where is everybody?”
She shrugs. “I guess you are it now.”
Oy. Well, I'd like that. Keeping up with a pacer is just mentally tough for me though, like it almost makes me run slower somehow. But, I'm also just getting tired at this point, and she pulls away, with a couple of the people we've been running with off and on, though I notice that even a couple of them lose her up ahead.
And then the big hill. Ah yes, I remember this from last year. My partner and I trudge up,along with a young woman who's been near us for a while, who gets some friends to join her, to the cheers of onlookers. I actually feel strong-ish on it, though probably could have just walked it in the same amount of time.
Alas, after the hill, the neighborhood roads get rough again. Damn. Both my feet are raw enough that I have to slow down, and I'm kind of curling my left foot involuntarily, to avoid any grit into my 'wart hole', which just sends pain up my leg. Argh. Gradually, gradually, my partner pulls away, so slow I don't even realize it and before I can say goodbye he's kind of too far ahead, and I have to drop back, and people start to pass me. Damn. I mean, I'm also exhausted, so maybe would drop back anyways, but I feel like it's that one little, but key, spot on the ball of my foot.
Oh well. Back to running on my own. Back to my own thoughts. But also, at this point, when onlookers see me, they seem to get even more enthused. “That guy's going to run 26 miles barefoot!” Like, at this point, it's now reality, since I'm so close. I even run in to some familiar faces, people who saw me earlier, including one woman I ran the Trail Marathon with last week, out with her dogs and son. Also, an older woman, part of a family out supporting someone, sitting in her lawn chair, who, when she sees me, says, “Oh, there's my barefoot runner! There he is!”
I wave and smile. That helps. And, I'm going to make. I know that. And when I check my watch, I realize I'm going to make it in a decent time, even if I'm slowing down, and even if now I'm starting to get that weird condition I've gotten before, like that there's an Alien chestburster down in my guts, kinda squirming around. I wonder if it's the pizza? I've been pounding the water too, trying to not be dehydrated, to the point where I'm feeling kind of sloshy, though that might be part of the chestburster effect.
And the last section of bike trail is blessedly smooth, free of grit, going along a reservoir, maybe part of the Kalamazoo River, not sure, with some again very enthusiastic volunteers at the fluid stations. I'm keeping pretty steady now, getting a burst of energy now that I'm getting to the end, trying to build up to my regular sprint at the end, leaving 'it' all out on the route. But, drat, one last little section through some neighborhood, and the roads are rough again. Ouch ouch ouch. I can hear the PA announcements from the Finish area, we're close. I just try and pick up my pace, lifting the feet faster rather than trying for a longer stride, which kind of works psychologically because my feet like the idea of being lifted off the rough road as fast as possible.
And a left, back out onto that first big main road, Gull I believe, for a half mile. I run on the cement gutter section, avoiding the pavement completely, which works well, and I now I can actually pick up the pace. No grit, just smooth cement. Here goes!
The crowd is thicker here, and they applaud both my barefootedness and my picking up the pace. One guy is dressed like a caveman for some reason, barefoot, and he goes nuts when he sees me. I hive five him as I pass.
The turnoff back to the Finish line is packed with people yelling encouragement and I zip past some trotters, going 'long-stride' at this point, adrenaline overriding 'raw foot pain' and the announcer calling off people's names gets confused because he suddenly sees me coming and just mumbles out, “And here's a barefooter!”
I cross! Immediately a guy standing in the crowd nods his head. “You are awesome, man. Good job.”
I thank him and check my watch. 4:07. Wow. Faster than last year, even though I thought both that I was in less shape, and that my feet were less toughened up. I know why: having someone to run with. I look around for him to thank him, since he must have come in after four hours, but he seems to have vanished. Ah well, gracias mi amigo.
A woman who must have seen me during the race comes up and asks, “Don't you get blisters on blisters doing that?”
I start to try to explain that I never get blisters, that I only get kind of raw, but then I just show her the bottom of my right foot.
“Oh, that doesn't look bad at all.”
And it doesn't. And when I check the left, yep, there's that really bad part, but not as bad as it's been before. But I'm happy to get to my truck and put on my moccasins. Now the long ride home, but I know I'll have a hot bath and a nap, and then treat myself to a movie featuring Scarlett Johansson in a tight body suit. And when I get out on I-94, I get Jimi Hendrix taking me home with “All Along The Watchtower.” Turn it up!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
Trail Marathon 2012
Today is looking perfect: sunny and let’s-run-a-marathon-ish, though right now, driving over to Pinkney, frost is glowing on the ground. When I get to the now-familiar parking lot (where not too long ago I ran the Pot O’ Gold Fat Ass 50K) I’m surprised at the lack of car chaos. This year for the Trail Marathon, the sponsor, local running chain Running Fit, has split the half and full marathon, the half was yesterday, Saturday, and they’ve also added a 50K option for today, as well as the ‘No Wimps’ Challenge: run the half AND either the full or the 50K today. I, alas, am feeling wimpish, and am ‘only’ running the full marathon. I just couldn’t justify the extra entry fee cost, nor the additional 45 minute (one way) drive over in one weekend.
I’m also not necessarily feeling up to the Challenge. I mean, I could’ve run a half yesterday on my own, but didn’t. I guess I just don’t feel, despite that Fat Ass 50K on St. Patty’s Day, that I’ve been running as much as I could this Winter (which I’ll probably go into in my next post) and even though I now know that, unless something drastic happens, I can power through a marathon on not a lot of running, I kinda want to redeem myself from last year, where I finished in this very race miserably. Plus also I’m going to run the Kalamazoo Marathon next week, so that feels ‘no wimp-ish’ enough. But, no excuses, these are just statements of fact. I signed up for the marathon and I’m kinda psyched to be here. I am not carrying on my two-year tradition of running this barefoot. Last year was brutal—this is a rocky trail—so I’m wearing my old VFF KSOs, still usable despite a bunch of holes and rips. Also, because of the frostiness this morning, I’m wearing a pair of Injinji socks, which though warm, give me the ‘Stay Puff Marshmallow Man’ feel. i.e. my feets aren’t at their most touchy-feely.
And who should come up to my truck but Rob, my old running buddy from the Somerset Stampede and the Bigfoot 50K, ready and raring to go. He took last summer off but now he’s back and, sounds like, in better shape than I am at this point: He’s doing the ‘No Wimps’ half/50K with his sights set on a 50 Miler later this summer. I tell him, briefly, about my last year’s experiences with the Burning River DNF and the two 50 Milers as we go over to get our race bibs. I note again how little traffic there seems to be today versus last year, but I guess that’s because the halfers aren’t here today. Rob says there were 1,000 runners yesterday, and ‘only’ 400 signed up for today, though I don’t even really see 400 cars. We go back to our respective vehicles to stay warm while we wait for the start, though he runs into his friend Steve (I think they’re brother-in-laws?) who I also know from Bigfoot and some other races last summer. After you do these things for a while you start to run into familiar faces.
Like for example when we head to the start, I run into all kinds of people I know. Here’s Brandon, another barefooter/minimalista/ultrarunner who I’ve run all kinds o’ races with (or, we end up running together for some of them—he and I seem to be around the same level)(i.e. not too fast, but steady). And here’s Mark, ultrarunner extrordinaire, from Jackson. And some of the Running Fit Ultrarunning Team (RUT) who I ran with at Pot O’ Gold. There’s even a woman from the Wildlife Half last year, who’s doing the No Wimps Challenge! Ok, I’m feeling wimpish. Another weird start. No one seems to want to line up until a couple minutes before 7:30, and even then most people hang back, no one wanting to really be up front. The owner of Running Fit tries something new this year: waves of starters. Which is all very unofficial, just him saying, “Ok, the first hundred people, people who think they might win this, line up.” Maybe fifty do. I’ve been hanging back, or I thought I was hanging back, but since I’m kinda nearby, I think, Hm, well, I do like to start fast on these trail runs, so as to miss all the bottlenecking that happens. So, when the owner yells “Go!” I slip in right at the end of the wave, predicting that this will probably mean I’ll get passed by people for the whole race. Well, this is kind of my M.O.: Start strong and penguin trudge the second half. I just do not run on my own anywhere near the speed I run races at, so if I started out at my ‘normal’ (slow) pace, I’d just be that much slower, and still end up trudging. I just don’t think going slower at the beginning gains me anything at the end. After the mid-way point, I’m just gonna be exhausted no matter what. So might as well take advantage of the adrenaline surge now.
And away we go. Yeah, no bottleneck, which is nice, but we’ll see how long this lasts, though being at the end of the first wave means no one is passing me immediately, and all the phaster-than-phuck guys like Tom are already way ahead. And yeah, the trail is rocky. It’s almost like running on a gravel road. The sun is up though, and my body is heating up. Gonna be an about perfect running day. At about Mile 4 I pass a guy I’d seen at the Start, wearing huaraches. He’s stopped to readjust them, so I confirm with him that they are in fact Barefoot Ted’s Luna’s, as I pass. And not far after, on a seemingly flat and relatively rootless section of trail, I trip and fall.
Impressively, I don’t fall flat, but rather do a whole somersault coming in sitting position. Wow. Youch. But nothing seems to be broken. I get up and run. Hm, grr, a little sore. Well, isn’t that special. But, as I keep running, my body loosens up and goes back to relative normal. I’ll probably feel it tomorrow, but right now the only consequences seem to be that I’m covered in leaves. And the passing has begun. All the fast people from the second wave, who didn’t want to admit that they were actually fast, are now zooming by. But we’re all spread out enough, and the trail is mostly wide enough, that passing isn’t a problem. Except that it’s going to be happening all day. Ah well.
My pace is a ten minute mile almost exactly. Not that I have a fancy GPS watch, just that the few mile makers there are line up exactly with my stop watch, as in, at Mile 4 I’ve run 40 minutes and Mile 8 I’ve run 80 minutes. Not sustainable though. I’m running way faster than I would on my own. But, I’ll go with it. I would love to finish this thing under five hours, that would be a PR, but I’m thinking I’ll bog down by the second thirteen mile loop.
But lo, I hear my name spoken by a female voice behind me. It’s Sweet Melissa! from previous races. Another person on the same running level as me, except she can maintain this pace for the whole race. We catch up. She did the Javelina 100 down in Arizona last year, and seems to have caught the ultra bug big time, with a bunch of ultras already under her belt this year, and another 100 Miler in two weeks over in Vermont. So maybe we’re not really on the same level anymore. But her shin’s bothering her, so she’s taking it easy, and in fact locks in behind me, though we don’t talk much, and in fact she drops behind for a while without me realizing it, though later catches up and runs with me back to the Start line for the end of the first loop, though she steps out to I think shed layers.
Onward. Still a decent pace. What would help is someone to talk to, distract me and keep me at an honest speed, but aside from Melissa, this race seems to have been one of the less social ones. I bet the slower folks in back are being more social, which would have been another advantage of starting later. Again, ah well. But yes, the couple people I start the second loop with gradually pull away, leaving me on my own, and I go back in ‘normal’ mode, almost without thinking about it, just going back into a jog, looking at the pretty forest around me. La la la....
The clomping of runners behind me. A spoken “John!”: It’s Rob. We exchange greetings and I think he’s looking forward to running with me, but man, I can’t, they’re going way too fast. I step aside and let them pass and tell him I’ll see him later on, though he’s looking strong, I don’t think I will. Even Melissa catches me. She and two others stay behind me for a while, but I’m starting to bog out, and let them pass. She hesitates, the other two pass her, she can’t keep up with them, that leg must really be bothering her, but she’s doing better than me. I give a last “Good to see you again!” and she vanishes in the trees.
Remember that old Muppets skit? Trudge. Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.
Streak! Streak! Two runners pass me.
Trudge. Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.
Streak! Streak!
Trudge. Wonder. Trudge. Wonder.
I’m in self-doubt mode, wondering if I should’ve started slower. Wondering if I’m just going to totally bog out and do another slow finish. I guess the good thing is that finishing is not at doubt. I will finish. I know enough about myself that I can mentally power through, no matter how slow. But still.
On the other hand, the day is gorgeous. The sun is out. Birds chirping. Squirrels. I even end up in the middle of a pack of deer charging across that trail, slightly worrying me that I’ll get hit, that the ones in back won’t see me, they’re all so panicked. And, the advantage of running alone and in non-clomping VFFs: I pass an opossum sniffling in the leaves. Does he really not hear me? Or maybe he’s just rabid? O possum my possum!
I do run into that huarache guy though, who’s going about my pace. We talk a little bit. He’s actually from Colorado, just in visiting. His Luna’s are the Leadville model, slightly thicker than the ones I have, and thicker than these VFFs I think, which would be good on a trail like this. He says he doesn’t run barefoot at all back home, living up at 9,000 feet, so in snow most of the year. He’s actually doing the Leadville 100 this year. I throw out how I’ve been thinking of at least being someone’s “mule” there, and he says he is looking for one or two, he can’t find anyone back home who wants to. So we agree to meet up after the race to at least exchange info. We’re going at the same pace, though he pulls ahead at this point, so this seems possible. Who knows? I’m moving out west this summer, I’m just not sure where yet (depends on where I can get a teaching gig, kinda) so I might just be able to swing by and help out. Would be cool to be a mule for a fellow minimalista.
Another guy comes up behind me and asks if I’m from Jackson. He’s seen my Turkey Trot 10K wool gloves I’ve been wearing, which are maybe the best swag I’ve ever gotten from a race. I’ve used these things all winter. We run a together a little bit. He’s just catching the running bug, having done a few marathons, and is thinking about doing some of the same races I did last year. Alas, I won’t be around here for all the end o’ summer races. Hopefully I’ll have some waiting for me wherever I end up! The miles slog on, but I’m getting there. A woman ends up behind me who I at first think is talking to me, but she’s just talking to herself, and to the butterflies and trees, saying over and over what a great day it is. Surprisingly, this is not unpleasant. Kind of amusing, and hell, why not thank the butterflies for fluttering by? With two miles to go, I hear, “Marco!” behind me: That can only be the one and only Brandon! He started at the back and slowly and steadily has been making his way up. Just seeing him gives me a jolt of energy and I ask if he wants to sprint with me to the finish. Alas, he’s doing the 50K, but we push it, and I’m actually passing people that just recently passed me, on a power surge. A little earlier than expected, but I’ll go with it. The hills still get me though, and Brandon passes me on one, but I keep him in my sights. Check the watch: 5:10.
Oh, ok, well, I didn’t get under five, but ok, still maybe my quickest here. I’ll have to check what my first time was, but certainly a lot faster than last year! And, we’re on that last long boardwalk before the clearing! I’ve done it! Almost there. I speed up. And the trail breaks out into the open! Now is the time to sprint, and I do! You’d think that since I can do this that I might be able to do more than trudge before, but I’m sure it’s all mental. Anyways, I push it, arms and legs pumping, getting some clapping from the bystanders.
And I cross! 5:16. Ok, I’ll take it. I get my medal. No mug for placing though. There’s a ton of men in my age range doing this, I’m not even in the top five, or probably not even in the top ten. That’s ok. I did it. I feel good. Not super dead, but a good, nice, exhausted.
Brandon stopped off to shed layers and passes by to do his final five mile-ish loop for the 50K. We slap hands. Good to see him again.
And a little stretching out on the sunny grass. No hurry. More runners coming in. Well, I wasn’t last! Though some of them are 50K finishers. Hm, I wonder. I check the posted finishes. Goddamn, Mark finished his 50K about forty-five minutes ago, for a ‘second’ in his age category. The first placer for that category finished the 50K in four hours! Whew.
And I’d hoped to find that huarache dude, but now I realize that he too is probably doing the 50K, which means he’ll be another hour. Doh. Well, maybe somebody who reads my blog, or someone from the BRS website knows him and can pass on my contact info.
Now home, to a nap, and a hot bath. Maybe two.
Official results: First loop: 2:16:50 for almost a 10 minute mile Second loop: 2:59:49 for about a 14 minute mile.
Fifteenth place in my age and gender 95th overall
www.johnyohe.com
I’m also not necessarily feeling up to the Challenge. I mean, I could’ve run a half yesterday on my own, but didn’t. I guess I just don’t feel, despite that Fat Ass 50K on St. Patty’s Day, that I’ve been running as much as I could this Winter (which I’ll probably go into in my next post) and even though I now know that, unless something drastic happens, I can power through a marathon on not a lot of running, I kinda want to redeem myself from last year, where I finished in this very race miserably. Plus also I’m going to run the Kalamazoo Marathon next week, so that feels ‘no wimp-ish’ enough. But, no excuses, these are just statements of fact. I signed up for the marathon and I’m kinda psyched to be here. I am not carrying on my two-year tradition of running this barefoot. Last year was brutal—this is a rocky trail—so I’m wearing my old VFF KSOs, still usable despite a bunch of holes and rips. Also, because of the frostiness this morning, I’m wearing a pair of Injinji socks, which though warm, give me the ‘Stay Puff Marshmallow Man’ feel. i.e. my feets aren’t at their most touchy-feely.
And who should come up to my truck but Rob, my old running buddy from the Somerset Stampede and the Bigfoot 50K, ready and raring to go. He took last summer off but now he’s back and, sounds like, in better shape than I am at this point: He’s doing the ‘No Wimps’ half/50K with his sights set on a 50 Miler later this summer. I tell him, briefly, about my last year’s experiences with the Burning River DNF and the two 50 Milers as we go over to get our race bibs. I note again how little traffic there seems to be today versus last year, but I guess that’s because the halfers aren’t here today. Rob says there were 1,000 runners yesterday, and ‘only’ 400 signed up for today, though I don’t even really see 400 cars. We go back to our respective vehicles to stay warm while we wait for the start, though he runs into his friend Steve (I think they’re brother-in-laws?) who I also know from Bigfoot and some other races last summer. After you do these things for a while you start to run into familiar faces.
Like for example when we head to the start, I run into all kinds of people I know. Here’s Brandon, another barefooter/minimalista/ultrarunner who I’ve run all kinds o’ races with (or, we end up running together for some of them—he and I seem to be around the same level)(i.e. not too fast, but steady). And here’s Mark, ultrarunner extrordinaire, from Jackson. And some of the Running Fit Ultrarunning Team (RUT) who I ran with at Pot O’ Gold. There’s even a woman from the Wildlife Half last year, who’s doing the No Wimps Challenge! Ok, I’m feeling wimpish. Another weird start. No one seems to want to line up until a couple minutes before 7:30, and even then most people hang back, no one wanting to really be up front. The owner of Running Fit tries something new this year: waves of starters. Which is all very unofficial, just him saying, “Ok, the first hundred people, people who think they might win this, line up.” Maybe fifty do. I’ve been hanging back, or I thought I was hanging back, but since I’m kinda nearby, I think, Hm, well, I do like to start fast on these trail runs, so as to miss all the bottlenecking that happens. So, when the owner yells “Go!” I slip in right at the end of the wave, predicting that this will probably mean I’ll get passed by people for the whole race. Well, this is kind of my M.O.: Start strong and penguin trudge the second half. I just do not run on my own anywhere near the speed I run races at, so if I started out at my ‘normal’ (slow) pace, I’d just be that much slower, and still end up trudging. I just don’t think going slower at the beginning gains me anything at the end. After the mid-way point, I’m just gonna be exhausted no matter what. So might as well take advantage of the adrenaline surge now.
And away we go. Yeah, no bottleneck, which is nice, but we’ll see how long this lasts, though being at the end of the first wave means no one is passing me immediately, and all the phaster-than-phuck guys like Tom are already way ahead. And yeah, the trail is rocky. It’s almost like running on a gravel road. The sun is up though, and my body is heating up. Gonna be an about perfect running day. At about Mile 4 I pass a guy I’d seen at the Start, wearing huaraches. He’s stopped to readjust them, so I confirm with him that they are in fact Barefoot Ted’s Luna’s, as I pass. And not far after, on a seemingly flat and relatively rootless section of trail, I trip and fall.
Impressively, I don’t fall flat, but rather do a whole somersault coming in sitting position. Wow. Youch. But nothing seems to be broken. I get up and run. Hm, grr, a little sore. Well, isn’t that special. But, as I keep running, my body loosens up and goes back to relative normal. I’ll probably feel it tomorrow, but right now the only consequences seem to be that I’m covered in leaves. And the passing has begun. All the fast people from the second wave, who didn’t want to admit that they were actually fast, are now zooming by. But we’re all spread out enough, and the trail is mostly wide enough, that passing isn’t a problem. Except that it’s going to be happening all day. Ah well.
My pace is a ten minute mile almost exactly. Not that I have a fancy GPS watch, just that the few mile makers there are line up exactly with my stop watch, as in, at Mile 4 I’ve run 40 minutes and Mile 8 I’ve run 80 minutes. Not sustainable though. I’m running way faster than I would on my own. But, I’ll go with it. I would love to finish this thing under five hours, that would be a PR, but I’m thinking I’ll bog down by the second thirteen mile loop.
But lo, I hear my name spoken by a female voice behind me. It’s Sweet Melissa! from previous races. Another person on the same running level as me, except she can maintain this pace for the whole race. We catch up. She did the Javelina 100 down in Arizona last year, and seems to have caught the ultra bug big time, with a bunch of ultras already under her belt this year, and another 100 Miler in two weeks over in Vermont. So maybe we’re not really on the same level anymore. But her shin’s bothering her, so she’s taking it easy, and in fact locks in behind me, though we don’t talk much, and in fact she drops behind for a while without me realizing it, though later catches up and runs with me back to the Start line for the end of the first loop, though she steps out to I think shed layers.
Onward. Still a decent pace. What would help is someone to talk to, distract me and keep me at an honest speed, but aside from Melissa, this race seems to have been one of the less social ones. I bet the slower folks in back are being more social, which would have been another advantage of starting later. Again, ah well. But yes, the couple people I start the second loop with gradually pull away, leaving me on my own, and I go back in ‘normal’ mode, almost without thinking about it, just going back into a jog, looking at the pretty forest around me. La la la....
The clomping of runners behind me. A spoken “John!”: It’s Rob. We exchange greetings and I think he’s looking forward to running with me, but man, I can’t, they’re going way too fast. I step aside and let them pass and tell him I’ll see him later on, though he’s looking strong, I don’t think I will. Even Melissa catches me. She and two others stay behind me for a while, but I’m starting to bog out, and let them pass. She hesitates, the other two pass her, she can’t keep up with them, that leg must really be bothering her, but she’s doing better than me. I give a last “Good to see you again!” and she vanishes in the trees.
Remember that old Muppets skit? Trudge. Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.
Streak! Streak! Two runners pass me.
Trudge. Trudge. Trudge. Trudge.
Streak! Streak!
Trudge. Wonder. Trudge. Wonder.
I’m in self-doubt mode, wondering if I should’ve started slower. Wondering if I’m just going to totally bog out and do another slow finish. I guess the good thing is that finishing is not at doubt. I will finish. I know enough about myself that I can mentally power through, no matter how slow. But still.
On the other hand, the day is gorgeous. The sun is out. Birds chirping. Squirrels. I even end up in the middle of a pack of deer charging across that trail, slightly worrying me that I’ll get hit, that the ones in back won’t see me, they’re all so panicked. And, the advantage of running alone and in non-clomping VFFs: I pass an opossum sniffling in the leaves. Does he really not hear me? Or maybe he’s just rabid? O possum my possum!
I do run into that huarache guy though, who’s going about my pace. We talk a little bit. He’s actually from Colorado, just in visiting. His Luna’s are the Leadville model, slightly thicker than the ones I have, and thicker than these VFFs I think, which would be good on a trail like this. He says he doesn’t run barefoot at all back home, living up at 9,000 feet, so in snow most of the year. He’s actually doing the Leadville 100 this year. I throw out how I’ve been thinking of at least being someone’s “mule” there, and he says he is looking for one or two, he can’t find anyone back home who wants to. So we agree to meet up after the race to at least exchange info. We’re going at the same pace, though he pulls ahead at this point, so this seems possible. Who knows? I’m moving out west this summer, I’m just not sure where yet (depends on where I can get a teaching gig, kinda) so I might just be able to swing by and help out. Would be cool to be a mule for a fellow minimalista.
Another guy comes up behind me and asks if I’m from Jackson. He’s seen my Turkey Trot 10K wool gloves I’ve been wearing, which are maybe the best swag I’ve ever gotten from a race. I’ve used these things all winter. We run a together a little bit. He’s just catching the running bug, having done a few marathons, and is thinking about doing some of the same races I did last year. Alas, I won’t be around here for all the end o’ summer races. Hopefully I’ll have some waiting for me wherever I end up! The miles slog on, but I’m getting there. A woman ends up behind me who I at first think is talking to me, but she’s just talking to herself, and to the butterflies and trees, saying over and over what a great day it is. Surprisingly, this is not unpleasant. Kind of amusing, and hell, why not thank the butterflies for fluttering by? With two miles to go, I hear, “Marco!” behind me: That can only be the one and only Brandon! He started at the back and slowly and steadily has been making his way up. Just seeing him gives me a jolt of energy and I ask if he wants to sprint with me to the finish. Alas, he’s doing the 50K, but we push it, and I’m actually passing people that just recently passed me, on a power surge. A little earlier than expected, but I’ll go with it. The hills still get me though, and Brandon passes me on one, but I keep him in my sights. Check the watch: 5:10.
Oh, ok, well, I didn’t get under five, but ok, still maybe my quickest here. I’ll have to check what my first time was, but certainly a lot faster than last year! And, we’re on that last long boardwalk before the clearing! I’ve done it! Almost there. I speed up. And the trail breaks out into the open! Now is the time to sprint, and I do! You’d think that since I can do this that I might be able to do more than trudge before, but I’m sure it’s all mental. Anyways, I push it, arms and legs pumping, getting some clapping from the bystanders.
And I cross! 5:16. Ok, I’ll take it. I get my medal. No mug for placing though. There’s a ton of men in my age range doing this, I’m not even in the top five, or probably not even in the top ten. That’s ok. I did it. I feel good. Not super dead, but a good, nice, exhausted.
Brandon stopped off to shed layers and passes by to do his final five mile-ish loop for the 50K. We slap hands. Good to see him again.
And a little stretching out on the sunny grass. No hurry. More runners coming in. Well, I wasn’t last! Though some of them are 50K finishers. Hm, I wonder. I check the posted finishes. Goddamn, Mark finished his 50K about forty-five minutes ago, for a ‘second’ in his age category. The first placer for that category finished the 50K in four hours! Whew.
And I’d hoped to find that huarache dude, but now I realize that he too is probably doing the 50K, which means he’ll be another hour. Doh. Well, maybe somebody who reads my blog, or someone from the BRS website knows him and can pass on my contact info.
Now home, to a nap, and a hot bath. Maybe two.
Official results: First loop: 2:16:50 for almost a 10 minute mile Second loop: 2:59:49 for about a 14 minute mile.
Fifteenth place in my age and gender 95th overall
www.johnyohe.com
Friday, April 20, 2012
Letter from a reader
A letter from a reader, with my answers after:
Dear John, I am a high school cross country runner in Naperville Illinois. I have read several books and studies and have fallen in love with the minimal style of running. I run about 65 miles a week and I currently wear the New Balance Minimus Trails and I do all my runs in them. I have not had any trouble at all with them. The reason I am sending this is because for my English class, I have a project that requires me to learn how to do something. Taking advantage of a great opportunity, I have decided to make Huarache Sandals. One part of my project involves interviewing an expert on my subject. I was wondering if you were willing to answer a few questions for me about the huaraches and minimal running in general. I would greatly appreciate it if you e-mailed me back so I can send you approximately ten questions about this subject that I am eager to find the answer to. 1. Why is minimalism becoming a trend in the United States and what has led to this "rebirth" in barefoot running? 2. What are the benefits of running barefoot vs with big shoes? 3. How have Humans Developed to have features built for running long Distances? 4. What parts of the body enable us and help run long distances? 5. Why do you think people developed to run long distances? 6. Do you think running high mileage early on will disable you in the future? 7. Do you think that the Tarahumara have the right idea going in their way of life? 8. Do you believe that running barefoot/minimalist will help reduce injury. 9. Do different body types affect the efficiency of distance running? 10. Is it possible to strengthen the arch of ones' foot and if so how? I would greatly appreciate it if you got back to me if soon as possible if you are able. I would love to learn more about this fascinating topic and would be forever grateful if you helped me out. Thank you so much, Lukas SkucasLucas: Thank you for writing. I don't claim to be an expert on huaraches, especially not making them, but I'll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability. First, I wear the huaraches made by Barefoot Ted: Luna's. I bought my pair about two years ago, in part after reading about him in Christopher McDougall's book Born To Run. At that point Ted's huarache business was a "one monkey operation" and he was still making them custom. What that entailed was me tracing the outline of my feet on a piece of paper and sending it to him. Now I think he and his monkey minions have standard sizes, which you can find out more about at his website: https://www.lunasandals.com/ I prefer to run completely barefoot, but my huaraches are my next favorite way to run, either because my soles are a little raw from a long run, or for night running, when I just can't be certain what I'm running on. I run in the huaraches both on pavement and on trails. They're very thin and sometimes for trails I've been tempted to 'upgrade' to something a little thicker, but really they work fine. Other minimalist footwear I use are the Vibram Five Fingers (for longer trail runs/races) and I also have a pair of Merrell's, which I bought for cold weather running only, though I'd only use them for trails. Otherwise they're too shoe-ish and actually hurt my feet if I run on pavement with them. Too much coverage. If and when I ever live back where the weather is warm, I'd use huaraches for most of my minimalist needs, but again, I do run completely barefoot a lot. Now I will attempt to answer your questions!
1. Why is minimalism becoming a trend in the United States and what has led to this "rebirth" in barefoot running?I think it was helped by the book Born To Run, though I'd heard about the 'trend' just before I heard about the book (which is more about ultrarunning than going barefoot). I think honestly that runners have been getting frustrated with the quality of shoes. I was suffering from plantar fasciitis, couldn't run for two years, saw 4 different doctors, and nothing helped. But when I ran barefoot, the PF vanished. Minimalist running helps runners connect better to trails (I think it's more popular for trail running) by allowing them to actually feel some kind of sensation, to feel the terrain underneath their feet.
2. What are the benefits of running barefoot vs with big shoes?The benefits seem to be stronger feet. Period. No more common shoe-related injuries like plantar fasciitis, or 'bum knees.' The benefits of "big shoes"? I don't see any anymore. They just seem to weaken our feet.
3. How have Humans Developed to have features built for running long Distances?Well, I'm not an expert on this, but again, check out Born To Run, it goes into how we humans evolved over at least a million and a half years as runners, in order to hunt. We ran animals down. We had to. We hadn't developed bows and arrows, or even spears yet.
4. What parts of the body enable us and help run long distances?I think the whole body helps. Yes, our legs and feet, but when I run long distances, my whole body feels sore!
5. Why do you think people developed to run long distances?See question 3, though I will add here that Born To Run is merely condensing info that's already out there about how we humans evolved and lived.
6. Do you think running high mileage early on will disable you in the future?No! It will make you stronger! That is, unless you run in shoes! Then all bets are off! Then it seems like the ole PF will get you, or your knees will give out from all that jarring heel striking.
7. Do you think that the Tarahumara have the right idea going in their way of life?From the accounts I've read, in Born To Run and other sources, they seem pretty darn healthy. But I don't know all the information to be able to answer this.
8. Do you believe that running barefoot/minimalist will help reduce injury?It reduced my injury! I can run again. I have a friend who stopped running because of a bad knee, but now runs again, in VFFs. I will say though, that I've heard about people injuring themselves by running in minimalist footwear they way they would in 'regular' shoes. You have to learn to run differently: No heel striking, lifting the feet instead of slamming them down. If people are interested, I'd send them to the Barefoot Runners Society Website. Or, just start slow. Trot. Listen to your body.
9. Do different body types affect the efficiency of distance running?I'm not sure. I do know that when I attempted the Burning River 100M, I saw a variety of body types, especially some big dudes. Distance running seems to be at least in part about endurance, stamina, stubbornness.
10. Is it possible to strengthen the arch of ones' foot and if so how?Yes. By using it. 'Regular' shoes, or anything with arch support, weaken our arches. Like I said, I could immediately run again when I went barefoot. My feet seemed to enjoy being used again! Also: Go barefoot whenever possible. There is also a movement building to live a barefoot lifestyle. Even if you don't run, go barefoot around the house. Switch to minimalist shoes for any footwear needs. Avoid arch support or cushioning. I hope this was helpful Lucas. Again, thank you for thinking of me. Cheers! John
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Pot O' Gold Fat Ass 50K-ish
The drive over to Pinkney is a little foggy, but nothing like two days ago when a tornado set down nearby in Dexter and wiped out ten houses, as well as damaged dozens of others. No one was hurt thankfully, but I'm wondering what the area is like, and if the trail we'll be running will be covered with downed trees. In fact, on that last main road there is a MDOT sign announcing simply that Pinkney-Dexter is closed. Yipes, the whole towns? But I don't see any wreckage and the side road up into the recreation area is open.
I'm early. The weather is, and has been, unusually warm for March in Michigan. Last year at this time I think we had two feet of snow. Now, it's spring, with birds and bugs out and about. My fellow runner from work, Mark, pulls up and says hello. While we're talking, the organizer of this Fat Ass, Lisa, pulls up and informs us that we're all supposed to meet up in the upper parking lot. Which, I didn't even know there was an upper parking lot. Good thing I got here in plenty of time, otherwise I'd be hanging out down here wondering where everyone was.
This is my second “Fat Ass” race, which is only kinda sorta a 'race'. Running Fit, the local running store company, has a Running Fit Ultramarathon Team (RUT for short), a group of hardcore runner in Washtenaw Country, and occasionally one of them organizes a longer race, though I think the Fat Ass concept is a national trend and concept, which I'm all for. There is as small sense of competition, enough to make one run at 'race pace' vs. a usual mellow run speed, though it's more about having other people to run with. This morning we seem to have about twenty people, all of whom have brought some kind of food or drink, ranging from healthy (bananas, salted almonds (my contribution)) to not (doughnuts, Mountain Dew).
I'm a little worried about getting lost. I've run in this area before, for Running Fit's Trail Marathon (and I'll be back in a few weeks to do so again) but I'm just worried about taking a wrong turn at Albequerque, even though Lisa goes over the layout. We're running the larger outer trail, the Potowatami, from which we get the name of this race, since the trail is lovingly known as, and marked as, the “Poto,” thus, “Pot o' Gold,” in keeping with the fact that it's St. Patrick's Day.
There are plenty o' trails in this rec area, but each intersection is numbered, with a map, and arrows pointing to the next trail markers. And, I'd thought that the Poto was about 13.1 miles, so that we'd run it twice, and those who wanted to make it a 50K would simply run an extra smaller loop, but Lisa explains to everyone that actually the Poto is about 14 miles, but can be made longer by adding on an extra side trail, making it 17 miles. So, since this is a RUT group, most people want the 50K, so will run the first loop at 17, then do the 14 miler. Me, I'm not so sure. This is actually my first long run of the year (I don't like running in the cold) so I'm going to just do the marathon option. Or, I guess now it will be 28 miles. Yikes. Well, ok.
I'm wondering if there are others down in the lower parking lot, but no one seems worried about it. I guess it's the Myers-Briggs INJT personality kicking in, wanting to make sure everything is organized precisely so as to help everyone. But, well, everyone here seems to know each other mostly. I live the next county over, just a little too far to take part in the regular long runs.
And, after a group photo, without much ceremony, Lisa says, “Go.” I hang back because, sure enough, Mark and all the other hardcore runners take off, leaving a few of us slowpokes in the dust. Actually I end up fairly quickly with one guy in front of me, and the two of us separate from the others behind us. He's going at a pace that's slightly slower than I'd want to be going, but instead of passing him and going off by myself, I hang back and start slow to pace myself a little. I always tend to start races faster than I normally would, and therefore tend to bog down at the end, though I think I'm going to bog down at the end of this no matter what.
His name, I think, but am not sure, is Rick. Name's are exchanges fairly quickly on these things, with everyone knowing we may separate at any point and not see each other again, and neither of us are regular RUTsters. But, he's interested in going beyond marathons, so when he hears about my experiences last year with my DNF at the Burning River 100M and the two 50 Milers I actually did finish, he picks my brain about what went wrong and right, which I'm happy to oblige. As much of a loner as I am, I now know that talking helps pass the time on these races, and keeps my mind off of, say, how sore my calves are from last weekend, when I really pushed myself.
At the first major intersection we stop to check the map. Basically we're supposed to take a right at every sign, except number 12, which is on the other side of the course. But neither one of us is familiar with the area. While we're looking, a group of three runners catches up to us and one of the women confirms that we go right, she's obviously run this route a lot, so we follow behind them for a while, until we hit some hills and end up passing them.
The trail heads north, following a long swampy lake. Canadian geese are honking away and I can hear some Sandhill Cranes somewhere. No bugs. I do have to say that it's turning into a warm day. I'm carrying my Amphipod water bottle, but I'm thinking it's not going to get me through 14 miles. Hm. The last Fat Ass I was in, a cooler of water was place at the halfway point, but that's not happening this time. Maybe I should have come a little better prepared, like with my bat-utility belt that holds to water bottle. Ah well.
I'm wearing my VFF KSOs, my old pair, still going strong after three years of abuse. I'm just not sure my feet are toughened up enough at this point in the year to get through a whole marathon. I considered doing the first loop bare, but I'm glad I didn't. If the trail were wetter and muddier, I might be able to go as fast as in VFFs, but it's just dry enough, and rocky enough, to make me feel thankful I've got that slab o' rubber there. I'm going to be slow enough, I don't need anything else holding me back.
At the northern most point, just when the trail turns west, we hit “Jurassic Park,” the nickname given to what is a University of Michigan Preserve. It just looks weird: a fifteen foot fence, with barbed wire on top, out in the middle of the woods. They really really don't want people sneaking in. That or they really really don't want any raptors getting out.
The trail looks like it goes straight south from here, but this is actually where it gets hillier, and there are many curves as the trail switchbacks up and down. We cross some roads, and some of the places along the route look familiar from the Trail Marathon, though we're actually running it in reverse, or, as some people said, not the “normal” way, which would be clockwise. Since this is a well used mountain bike route, where the bikes all go clockwise, Lisa's thinking, which I agree with, is to run facing them, so we can see them coming, because sometimes those guys come tearing around curves. Strangely though, we come across a group of like nine runners coming the other way, who say they're Fat Assers too. They must have arrived late? That's too bad, I would've liked more people out on the trail running in the same direction, especially since, after we hit trail marker 12, the guy I'm with decides to take off, which is fine, I certainly haven't been gaining speed on this thing. But, that puts me on my own. Which is fine, but I know I'll start zoning out and just running my mellow pace.
But man, I check my watch and I'm at two hours. This is a loooong half marathon, or 14 miles. That, and/or I'm waaaaay out of shape, which could very well be. But still, this trail seems to go on forever. I get to the next major trail intersection, the one where we could opt to add on an extra four miles to make it 17, and there's no way I'm going to do that. Fortunately there's a biker there two. He asks, “Did you just come from 12?”
“Yep.”
“Ok, well, I just came from the parking lot.” He points out the trail to take. That was easy and helpful. Glad we could help each other out.
I keep running. And running. Check my watch: Two and a half hours?! Really? For 14 miles? Man, I'm out of shape.
Finally finally finally I come down into the lower parking lot and head up to where all the goodies are stored. No one around. I check the sign-in sign: Only Mark and one other guy have checked in and gone on for loop two. Wow. Really? Does that mean everyone else (because most people have got to be ahead of me) took the 17 mile option? And therefor I'm now ahead of all them? I don't know, but I am going to eat some orange slices and bananas, and pound some water. Also some salty almonds. Mm, salt.
Man, 2:54 for a 14 mile loop? That is pathetic. Should I even attempt the second loop? But, I'm here, nothing else going on today. My big fear is being last, and having to keep Lisa and others waiting around for me, to make sure I haven't died or something. I was thinking that I'd finish my marathon around the same time as some people's 50Ks, but now I'm not so sure. Except no one else seems to be going that fast either, except Mark, damn him.
Well, the good news is that there are plenty o' shortcuts I can take I really really don't feel up to it. And so, after topping off with water, I head out again.
Almost immediately I start wondering if I've taken a wrong turn at ABQ. Stuff just doesn't look familiar, like for example that phone line that been knocked off the poles, I assume by the tornado weather, and is hanging across the trail at head level. How did I not see that before? Weird. Really shows how distracting, in a good way, talking to someone while running can be. But, there's the lake, and the shortcut, which I opt not to take, feeling, if not ok, then determined, at this point. And, here's Jurassic Park! Ok, I'm on the right trail. Hello raptors!
And I'm out of water. Shit. Well, I remember seeing a handpump at a campsite we ran through, but where is it? But, then, out of nowhere, an older gentleman in running gear is walking towards me, and he says, “Hello! Do you need any water? Or a Coke?”
I take a bottle of water and down it in one long chug. He fills up my bottle and offers me a bottle of Coke again. He's one of the people from that other group running the other way. He says he and some others ran the 17 mile loop, and that was enough, but that he'd put a 'stash' of drinks here on the opposite side, just in case, and since he didn't do the second loop, he's got some left over. I love minor miracles. I thank him profusely and run on. Just having this extra water has given me energy. Not sure if it's merely psychological, but I feel good. The calves aren't bothering me. I'm tired, yes, and not moving too fast, but I know I'm going to finish.
And I even run out of water again, but it's right before the campground, so I do stop at the pump, which actually works, with cold water! Yes!
Shortly after, around trail marker 12, two runners catch up to me. It's Lisa, the organizer, and another guy, a friend of her's. Rather than despairing that they may pass me, I actually get some energy, and we all run together. Turns out, they took the short cut, skipping the Jurassic Park section, which will make their second loop around ten miles, combined with the 17 mile loop the first time, that makes still more than a marathon. The guy as a GPS watch, and reveals that the loop I'm running is actually more like 15.5 miles! A ha! So, I'm actually running more like a 50K today. By accident. Well, that explains some things. Doh. Lisa apologizes, but actually I'm ok with it. I kinda like that I was tricked into running longer than I thought I could run.
And man, with the two of them, the last section goes by super quick. Amazing. Before I know it, there's the parking lot. Whew. Check the watch. Man. 6:56. Still an hour longer than I've run 50Ks before, but for March, with not having run more than 15 miles for since last December, I'll take it. I check the sign in list, which is now filled in. There's actually some folks still out on the trail, so I'm not last!
And now begins the gorging: more orange slices, bananas, almonds, and yes, a few doughnut holes, and some fig newtons, and someone made homemade oatmeal cookies. I'm probably eating back all the calories I just burned, but oh well, I feel good. I deserve a reward.
Overall, I almost kind of like these Fat Ass races more than some organized races. One, they're free, but there seems to be more camaraderie. And better food. I highly encourage others to hold these. If I weren't moving soon, I might consider hosting one in the Jackson area. Races are getting so expensive, especially out of town ones, that I just can't justify going to them. Yet, I like races, I run better at them, and become a better runner because of them. Or, looked at another way, they just create more races for people, because I'm fairly certain that everyone who ran this Fat Ass will also be in Running Fit's Trail Marathon, same area, in a few weeks. Having some free races throughout the year helps create more runners period.
Now, the drive back to Jackson, with my leg muscles already starting to tighten....
(I'm fifth from the left, in back)
I'm early. The weather is, and has been, unusually warm for March in Michigan. Last year at this time I think we had two feet of snow. Now, it's spring, with birds and bugs out and about. My fellow runner from work, Mark, pulls up and says hello. While we're talking, the organizer of this Fat Ass, Lisa, pulls up and informs us that we're all supposed to meet up in the upper parking lot. Which, I didn't even know there was an upper parking lot. Good thing I got here in plenty of time, otherwise I'd be hanging out down here wondering where everyone was.
This is my second “Fat Ass” race, which is only kinda sorta a 'race'. Running Fit, the local running store company, has a Running Fit Ultramarathon Team (RUT for short), a group of hardcore runner in Washtenaw Country, and occasionally one of them organizes a longer race, though I think the Fat Ass concept is a national trend and concept, which I'm all for. There is as small sense of competition, enough to make one run at 'race pace' vs. a usual mellow run speed, though it's more about having other people to run with. This morning we seem to have about twenty people, all of whom have brought some kind of food or drink, ranging from healthy (bananas, salted almonds (my contribution)) to not (doughnuts, Mountain Dew).
I'm a little worried about getting lost. I've run in this area before, for Running Fit's Trail Marathon (and I'll be back in a few weeks to do so again) but I'm just worried about taking a wrong turn at Albequerque, even though Lisa goes over the layout. We're running the larger outer trail, the Potowatami, from which we get the name of this race, since the trail is lovingly known as, and marked as, the “Poto,” thus, “Pot o' Gold,” in keeping with the fact that it's St. Patrick's Day.
There are plenty o' trails in this rec area, but each intersection is numbered, with a map, and arrows pointing to the next trail markers. And, I'd thought that the Poto was about 13.1 miles, so that we'd run it twice, and those who wanted to make it a 50K would simply run an extra smaller loop, but Lisa explains to everyone that actually the Poto is about 14 miles, but can be made longer by adding on an extra side trail, making it 17 miles. So, since this is a RUT group, most people want the 50K, so will run the first loop at 17, then do the 14 miler. Me, I'm not so sure. This is actually my first long run of the year (I don't like running in the cold) so I'm going to just do the marathon option. Or, I guess now it will be 28 miles. Yikes. Well, ok.
I'm wondering if there are others down in the lower parking lot, but no one seems worried about it. I guess it's the Myers-Briggs INJT personality kicking in, wanting to make sure everything is organized precisely so as to help everyone. But, well, everyone here seems to know each other mostly. I live the next county over, just a little too far to take part in the regular long runs.
And, after a group photo, without much ceremony, Lisa says, “Go.” I hang back because, sure enough, Mark and all the other hardcore runners take off, leaving a few of us slowpokes in the dust. Actually I end up fairly quickly with one guy in front of me, and the two of us separate from the others behind us. He's going at a pace that's slightly slower than I'd want to be going, but instead of passing him and going off by myself, I hang back and start slow to pace myself a little. I always tend to start races faster than I normally would, and therefore tend to bog down at the end, though I think I'm going to bog down at the end of this no matter what.
His name, I think, but am not sure, is Rick. Name's are exchanges fairly quickly on these things, with everyone knowing we may separate at any point and not see each other again, and neither of us are regular RUTsters. But, he's interested in going beyond marathons, so when he hears about my experiences last year with my DNF at the Burning River 100M and the two 50 Milers I actually did finish, he picks my brain about what went wrong and right, which I'm happy to oblige. As much of a loner as I am, I now know that talking helps pass the time on these races, and keeps my mind off of, say, how sore my calves are from last weekend, when I really pushed myself.
At the first major intersection we stop to check the map. Basically we're supposed to take a right at every sign, except number 12, which is on the other side of the course. But neither one of us is familiar with the area. While we're looking, a group of three runners catches up to us and one of the women confirms that we go right, she's obviously run this route a lot, so we follow behind them for a while, until we hit some hills and end up passing them.
The trail heads north, following a long swampy lake. Canadian geese are honking away and I can hear some Sandhill Cranes somewhere. No bugs. I do have to say that it's turning into a warm day. I'm carrying my Amphipod water bottle, but I'm thinking it's not going to get me through 14 miles. Hm. The last Fat Ass I was in, a cooler of water was place at the halfway point, but that's not happening this time. Maybe I should have come a little better prepared, like with my bat-utility belt that holds to water bottle. Ah well.
I'm wearing my VFF KSOs, my old pair, still going strong after three years of abuse. I'm just not sure my feet are toughened up enough at this point in the year to get through a whole marathon. I considered doing the first loop bare, but I'm glad I didn't. If the trail were wetter and muddier, I might be able to go as fast as in VFFs, but it's just dry enough, and rocky enough, to make me feel thankful I've got that slab o' rubber there. I'm going to be slow enough, I don't need anything else holding me back.
At the northern most point, just when the trail turns west, we hit “Jurassic Park,” the nickname given to what is a University of Michigan Preserve. It just looks weird: a fifteen foot fence, with barbed wire on top, out in the middle of the woods. They really really don't want people sneaking in. That or they really really don't want any raptors getting out.
The trail looks like it goes straight south from here, but this is actually where it gets hillier, and there are many curves as the trail switchbacks up and down. We cross some roads, and some of the places along the route look familiar from the Trail Marathon, though we're actually running it in reverse, or, as some people said, not the “normal” way, which would be clockwise. Since this is a well used mountain bike route, where the bikes all go clockwise, Lisa's thinking, which I agree with, is to run facing them, so we can see them coming, because sometimes those guys come tearing around curves. Strangely though, we come across a group of like nine runners coming the other way, who say they're Fat Assers too. They must have arrived late? That's too bad, I would've liked more people out on the trail running in the same direction, especially since, after we hit trail marker 12, the guy I'm with decides to take off, which is fine, I certainly haven't been gaining speed on this thing. But, that puts me on my own. Which is fine, but I know I'll start zoning out and just running my mellow pace.
But man, I check my watch and I'm at two hours. This is a loooong half marathon, or 14 miles. That, and/or I'm waaaaay out of shape, which could very well be. But still, this trail seems to go on forever. I get to the next major trail intersection, the one where we could opt to add on an extra four miles to make it 17, and there's no way I'm going to do that. Fortunately there's a biker there two. He asks, “Did you just come from 12?”
“Yep.”
“Ok, well, I just came from the parking lot.” He points out the trail to take. That was easy and helpful. Glad we could help each other out.
I keep running. And running. Check my watch: Two and a half hours?! Really? For 14 miles? Man, I'm out of shape.
Finally finally finally I come down into the lower parking lot and head up to where all the goodies are stored. No one around. I check the sign-in sign: Only Mark and one other guy have checked in and gone on for loop two. Wow. Really? Does that mean everyone else (because most people have got to be ahead of me) took the 17 mile option? And therefor I'm now ahead of all them? I don't know, but I am going to eat some orange slices and bananas, and pound some water. Also some salty almonds. Mm, salt.
Man, 2:54 for a 14 mile loop? That is pathetic. Should I even attempt the second loop? But, I'm here, nothing else going on today. My big fear is being last, and having to keep Lisa and others waiting around for me, to make sure I haven't died or something. I was thinking that I'd finish my marathon around the same time as some people's 50Ks, but now I'm not so sure. Except no one else seems to be going that fast either, except Mark, damn him.
Well, the good news is that there are plenty o' shortcuts I can take I really really don't feel up to it. And so, after topping off with water, I head out again.
Almost immediately I start wondering if I've taken a wrong turn at ABQ. Stuff just doesn't look familiar, like for example that phone line that been knocked off the poles, I assume by the tornado weather, and is hanging across the trail at head level. How did I not see that before? Weird. Really shows how distracting, in a good way, talking to someone while running can be. But, there's the lake, and the shortcut, which I opt not to take, feeling, if not ok, then determined, at this point. And, here's Jurassic Park! Ok, I'm on the right trail. Hello raptors!
And I'm out of water. Shit. Well, I remember seeing a handpump at a campsite we ran through, but where is it? But, then, out of nowhere, an older gentleman in running gear is walking towards me, and he says, “Hello! Do you need any water? Or a Coke?”
I take a bottle of water and down it in one long chug. He fills up my bottle and offers me a bottle of Coke again. He's one of the people from that other group running the other way. He says he and some others ran the 17 mile loop, and that was enough, but that he'd put a 'stash' of drinks here on the opposite side, just in case, and since he didn't do the second loop, he's got some left over. I love minor miracles. I thank him profusely and run on. Just having this extra water has given me energy. Not sure if it's merely psychological, but I feel good. The calves aren't bothering me. I'm tired, yes, and not moving too fast, but I know I'm going to finish.
And I even run out of water again, but it's right before the campground, so I do stop at the pump, which actually works, with cold water! Yes!
Shortly after, around trail marker 12, two runners catch up to me. It's Lisa, the organizer, and another guy, a friend of her's. Rather than despairing that they may pass me, I actually get some energy, and we all run together. Turns out, they took the short cut, skipping the Jurassic Park section, which will make their second loop around ten miles, combined with the 17 mile loop the first time, that makes still more than a marathon. The guy as a GPS watch, and reveals that the loop I'm running is actually more like 15.5 miles! A ha! So, I'm actually running more like a 50K today. By accident. Well, that explains some things. Doh. Lisa apologizes, but actually I'm ok with it. I kinda like that I was tricked into running longer than I thought I could run.
And man, with the two of them, the last section goes by super quick. Amazing. Before I know it, there's the parking lot. Whew. Check the watch. Man. 6:56. Still an hour longer than I've run 50Ks before, but for March, with not having run more than 15 miles for since last December, I'll take it. I check the sign in list, which is now filled in. There's actually some folks still out on the trail, so I'm not last!
And now begins the gorging: more orange slices, bananas, almonds, and yes, a few doughnut holes, and some fig newtons, and someone made homemade oatmeal cookies. I'm probably eating back all the calories I just burned, but oh well, I feel good. I deserve a reward.
Overall, I almost kind of like these Fat Ass races more than some organized races. One, they're free, but there seems to be more camaraderie. And better food. I highly encourage others to hold these. If I weren't moving soon, I might consider hosting one in the Jackson area. Races are getting so expensive, especially out of town ones, that I just can't justify going to them. Yet, I like races, I run better at them, and become a better runner because of them. Or, looked at another way, they just create more races for people, because I'm fairly certain that everyone who ran this Fat Ass will also be in Running Fit's Trail Marathon, same area, in a few weeks. Having some free races throughout the year helps create more runners period.
Now, the drive back to Jackson, with my leg muscles already starting to tighten....
(I'm fifth from the left, in back)
Monday, February 27, 2012
Running Twice A Day
I first started running twice a day as part of my training for the Burning River 100 Mile Endurance Run last summer. Before, after a long exhausting run, I would never have considered even walking very far on the same day. In fact, until I started running barefoot, I would always take a day off after my weekly one long run. But running barefoot allowed my body to recover faster, and actually puts less wear and tear on my legs in general, so I could easily, and gladly, run every day.
And for Burning River, I simply had to run more—a lot—like, lots o' hours and miles a week in order to get anywhere close to what I'd be doing in that race. At the beginning of the summer I was doing long runs every other day, and on the odd days, doing a shorter run of an hour (or two), allowed me some recovery time, enough to have energy for the rest of the day. So, with that energy there, I decided to go out for short mellow runs at night. And, that was possible, and in fact not unpleasant at all.
So, I started to do a nightly run, no matter how far I'd gone in the morning. Sometimes it was funny, a little absurd almost, to trudge out at nine o'clock, my legs sore sore, but curiously having energy, so I had discovered that soreness and tiredness are two different animals. And, once I started trudging, the legs would loosen up, and some of the soreness would go away. Just to experiment, for the sheer audacity of it, I even tried doing a short run the night that I had run a marathon. I went slow (that was the only way I could go), but I went.
The second run also helped if I just couldn't run very long in the morning, because of work or travel or whatever. So, If I could only run a half-hour, or hour, in the morning, adding on a half hour at night made me feel better about keeping up some sort of decent schedule for the Big Race. I actually started to boost the length of my night runs because they just felt good.
The only sacrifice I really made in adding night runs was cutting into my reading time. I usually like to read an hour or more before going to sleep, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make, and as a teacher, I had the summer off, mercifully, so I read enough during the day. I don't own a t.v. (again, mercifully) and I can't imagine not watching one as any kind of sacrifice. I was also living in a town where I didn't know a lot of people, was single, and didn't have too much of a social life. How any endurance runner can be married, much less have a family, I'm still not sure.
I did and do not run barefoot at night. Even though I'm mostly running in semi-lit areas, I just do not want to risk stepping on a piece of glass, or just any pokey thing. Instead I usually wear my Luna huaraches by Barefoot Ted and crew, even in Winter. I'll put on a pair of Injinji socks to keep the feets warm. If it's wet and/or slushy, I'll maybe wear my VFFs.
I actually grew really fond of my night runs. I know some people run at night normally, but I prefer to do my runs first thing in the morning, to start my day active, but running at night, especially since I treated them as 'treats,' with no desire to push myself time or effort-wise, just a light trot, are peaceful. It's dark (in the city, I don't feel the need to wear a headlamp—hate those things anyways) and quiet, little traffic, few people period. Cool air. Very solitary and contemplative. Looking into houses, seeing people sitting in front of the idiot boxes, eating Doritos and watching Dancing With The Stars, I admit to a feeling of healthy smugness, though feeling bad too that that's what people consider 'normal' now, and wishing they would just get out and walk at least.
Even now, after the race (months after really), I still enjoy a second run in the evening. Not all the time this Winter, since I am after all Michigan, and hate the cold, but though running raises my heart rate and gets my blood pumping, it doesn't keep me up at night, and in fact relaxes me, de-stresses me, helps me sleep better.
As the next summer approaches, and Michigan warms up, I'm not sure if I'll be able to train for another 100 miler or not. It's a lot of work and time, and I'll be moving, changing jobs. But with warmer weather, a second run in the day is now almost part of my regular routine, to the point where I consider it almost a ritual.
And for Burning River, I simply had to run more—a lot—like, lots o' hours and miles a week in order to get anywhere close to what I'd be doing in that race. At the beginning of the summer I was doing long runs every other day, and on the odd days, doing a shorter run of an hour (or two), allowed me some recovery time, enough to have energy for the rest of the day. So, with that energy there, I decided to go out for short mellow runs at night. And, that was possible, and in fact not unpleasant at all.
So, I started to do a nightly run, no matter how far I'd gone in the morning. Sometimes it was funny, a little absurd almost, to trudge out at nine o'clock, my legs sore sore, but curiously having energy, so I had discovered that soreness and tiredness are two different animals. And, once I started trudging, the legs would loosen up, and some of the soreness would go away. Just to experiment, for the sheer audacity of it, I even tried doing a short run the night that I had run a marathon. I went slow (that was the only way I could go), but I went.
The second run also helped if I just couldn't run very long in the morning, because of work or travel or whatever. So, If I could only run a half-hour, or hour, in the morning, adding on a half hour at night made me feel better about keeping up some sort of decent schedule for the Big Race. I actually started to boost the length of my night runs because they just felt good.
The only sacrifice I really made in adding night runs was cutting into my reading time. I usually like to read an hour or more before going to sleep, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make, and as a teacher, I had the summer off, mercifully, so I read enough during the day. I don't own a t.v. (again, mercifully) and I can't imagine not watching one as any kind of sacrifice. I was also living in a town where I didn't know a lot of people, was single, and didn't have too much of a social life. How any endurance runner can be married, much less have a family, I'm still not sure.
I did and do not run barefoot at night. Even though I'm mostly running in semi-lit areas, I just do not want to risk stepping on a piece of glass, or just any pokey thing. Instead I usually wear my Luna huaraches by Barefoot Ted and crew, even in Winter. I'll put on a pair of Injinji socks to keep the feets warm. If it's wet and/or slushy, I'll maybe wear my VFFs.
I actually grew really fond of my night runs. I know some people run at night normally, but I prefer to do my runs first thing in the morning, to start my day active, but running at night, especially since I treated them as 'treats,' with no desire to push myself time or effort-wise, just a light trot, are peaceful. It's dark (in the city, I don't feel the need to wear a headlamp—hate those things anyways) and quiet, little traffic, few people period. Cool air. Very solitary and contemplative. Looking into houses, seeing people sitting in front of the idiot boxes, eating Doritos and watching Dancing With The Stars, I admit to a feeling of healthy smugness, though feeling bad too that that's what people consider 'normal' now, and wishing they would just get out and walk at least.
Even now, after the race (months after really), I still enjoy a second run in the evening. Not all the time this Winter, since I am after all Michigan, and hate the cold, but though running raises my heart rate and gets my blood pumping, it doesn't keep me up at night, and in fact relaxes me, de-stresses me, helps me sleep better.
As the next summer approaches, and Michigan warms up, I'm not sure if I'll be able to train for another 100 miler or not. It's a lot of work and time, and I'll be moving, changing jobs. But with warmer weather, a second run in the day is now almost part of my regular routine, to the point where I consider it almost a ritual.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Merrell Trail Gloves: A Review
My intention in buying the Merrell Trail Gloves was very specific: to keep my feet warm in the Winter months here in Michigan. In warm weather, I much prefer running barefoot, and if for any reason I use footwear, I've been happy with Barefoot Ted's Luna huaraches, a sandal that just covers the bottoms of my feet and leave the rest open to the air. And if I need any more protection than that (say, for the ultramarathons I ran) I used my Vibram Five Fingers (VFFs).
My first year as a barefoot runner I even went 'hardcore' and ran barefoot all Winter, though that was only possible because I lived in Ann Arbor, which keeps its sidewalks very clear (something to do with a student suing the university for missing a class due to a snow day is what I heard), and the Winter was, if not mild, then not extreme either.
The following Winter (last year) I had moved to Jackson, which is not very good about clearing it's sidewalks or bike trails at all. Plus, that Winter was on the extreme side, with a good two feet of snow on the ground most of the time. The huaraches were out of the question, and so were the VFFs: the KSOs do not hold heat at all, with the separate two 'sockets' actually preventing the toes from gathering together and keeping each other warm. (I have not tried the Vibram Flows). Adding the Injinji socks allowed me to go out in plus 32 degree weather for short spurts.
My favorite footwear from that Winter was my Minnetonka moccasins. The leather holds heat really well. The problem is that they get wet, and the soft leather bottom wears out quickly with anything other than walking. I know making them with a hard leather bottom would be possible, and as a side note here, if Minnetonka did that, they'd have the ultimate minimalist running shoe!
But this is about the Merrells. I chose them, out of the myriads of minimalist shoes out there, for a few reasons, the main one being that they sponsored the Naked Foot 5K run over in Grand Rapids that I ran in (please see my earlier post on this) and I was impressed with the company's seeming desire to educate people about actual real barefoot running, and how minimalist running can compliment it. They're also a local Michigan company, and they were convenient, being the only other minimalist footwear available in downtown Ann Arbor (at Bivouac on State Street). The one thing I really dislike is that they call the various types of shoes “Barefoot,” as in “Barefoot Run Trail Glove.” I disagree with using the word 'barefoot' with any kind of shoe (I prefer 'minimalist') so for this review I will just call them Trail Gloves.
Merrell Trail Gloves definitely look shoe-like, and probably most people wouldn't even be able to tell they were minimalist, but on closer inspection, the soles are significantly thinner, no cushion at all, with absolutely no raised heel. The sole is Vibram design: that is, Merrell is using the sort of the same material as for the VFFs, but although the shoes can be folded over, and feet can be moved fairly freely inside, the Trail Gloves are thicker than the VFFs, by design, with a somewhat sturdier (I don't want to say 'harder' though I guess it is) middle section which, depending on your needs may or may not be a good thing. The thicker soles 'protect' feet better than the VFFs from the small pokey things on trails.
The downside of that is of course that sensitivity is significantly decreased, so that I find myself striking harder when I run. This is especially true on pavement (sidewalks and bike trails) where, after runs, my legs, muscles and joints, just feel hammered and sore. I definitely run differently in Trail Gloves, even when I'm really trying to run in proper 'lifting feet' mode, and I know I'm running differently because different muscles get sore. Whereas when I first started running barefoot my lower calves got sore, now I find my shins do, and again, my joints get particularly sore: knees and ankles.
Once I started running in the Trail Gloves, I found myself going back to how I ran in 'regular' (ie evil) running shoes: avoiding pavement whenever possible, running in the dirt or grass next to roads, and tending towards trail runs. I will now never run on pavement with Trail Gloves, my legs just hurt to much afterwards.
That said, the Trail Gloves did fulfill my original intent: to keep my feet warm during cold snowy trail runs. My first real test was only two weeks after buying them, when I ran a Fat Ass Marathon in Brighton (again, please see my earlier post about this). The course was fairly level, but with a layer of packed snow over dirt. The temperature was below freezing to start off but by late morning was maybe upper thirties, so that there was some mud. I wore only the Merrells, no socks, and felt a little coldness on the toes waiting around before the race, but once I started running, my feet were fine. So, mission accomplished, though again, I knew I was running with a longer gait, striking harder than I would even in VFFs, but on the dirt/snow trail the 'wear' on my legs wasn't as great.
Trail Gloves 'feel' light, weight-wise, and thin. In fact, they look a lot like climbing shoes, which I'm sure the designers borrowed from. The difference is that, unlike with climbing shoes, or even 'regular' running shoes, the 'toe box' area is spacious, with plenty of wiggle room for the toes. In fact, the design of the shoes is such that the shoes are held tight on the sides, through the lacing system, allowing the toes to spread out as much as they want. The lacing system is hard to describe, but well designed, maybe even a little too well designed, since pulling the shoes tight (like, really tight) around the feet is really easy, again, sort of like climbing shoes. I think that Merrell thinks this is a good thing, and maybe for some runners it is, but I found the tightness around my arch uncomfortable, and after a few weeks use I ended up keeping the laces really really loose, enough only to keep the shoes on my feet, which is more of how my moccasins feel.
Here in Michigan, we've had an almost balmy Winter, with hardly no snow, and temps in the 40s, so that I've actually been out barefoot running in February! I've still be using the Merrells for trail runs, more out of curiosity than need, since with those temps I could be in VFFs, or even huaraches, and I've even gone for night runs, when temps dip down below freezing, in huaraches with Injinji socks on and have felt fine (keep in mind that I hate the cold and bundle up the rest of my body). When we have had snow, say one to three inches, the Merrells are perfect for trail running, keeping the snow off my feet, and they tend to dry overnight.
But, I really do not like the lack of sensitivity. After running barefoot so long, I can't really 'go back' to wearing what are basically shoes. For colder climates, I would recommend Merrell Trail Gloves during the Winter months, for trail running only. If I lived in southern or western climes, I would say they are just not necessary for barefoot runners, which I think are most of my readers. For those that are mainly minimalist runners, and are comfortable running in VFFs (say, even on pavement) the Trail Gloves would offer you a little more protection on trails, and the one time I could imagine wearing them during warm weather might be during that later stages of ultra runs, when I'm brain-foggy and running sloppy anyways.
For those who might be transitioning from 'regular' running shoes, Trail Gloves might offer the basic shoe feel while giving a bit more sensitivity, though really I would urge readers to just go all the way to barefoot, with maybe huaraches for minimal protection. The more minimal you go, the less protection you will want, and in any case I would NOT recommend running on pavement in Trail Gloves, especially if you are not familiar with proper barefoot running technique. Do NOT run by heel striking in these or any minimalist shoes.
More interestingly, Merrell makes a form of the Trail Gloves that is a dress shoe, the Barefoot Life Tough Gloves, with black leather, though with laces and the same bottoms, kind of LL Bean chic, which would be great for the barefooter who wants no support or cushion, but needs a dress shoe for work or interviews. I plan to acquire a pair of these, because the Trail Gloves are comfortable to walk around in.
Approximate cost: $110
My first year as a barefoot runner I even went 'hardcore' and ran barefoot all Winter, though that was only possible because I lived in Ann Arbor, which keeps its sidewalks very clear (something to do with a student suing the university for missing a class due to a snow day is what I heard), and the Winter was, if not mild, then not extreme either.
The following Winter (last year) I had moved to Jackson, which is not very good about clearing it's sidewalks or bike trails at all. Plus, that Winter was on the extreme side, with a good two feet of snow on the ground most of the time. The huaraches were out of the question, and so were the VFFs: the KSOs do not hold heat at all, with the separate two 'sockets' actually preventing the toes from gathering together and keeping each other warm. (I have not tried the Vibram Flows). Adding the Injinji socks allowed me to go out in plus 32 degree weather for short spurts.
My favorite footwear from that Winter was my Minnetonka moccasins. The leather holds heat really well. The problem is that they get wet, and the soft leather bottom wears out quickly with anything other than walking. I know making them with a hard leather bottom would be possible, and as a side note here, if Minnetonka did that, they'd have the ultimate minimalist running shoe!
But this is about the Merrells. I chose them, out of the myriads of minimalist shoes out there, for a few reasons, the main one being that they sponsored the Naked Foot 5K run over in Grand Rapids that I ran in (please see my earlier post on this) and I was impressed with the company's seeming desire to educate people about actual real barefoot running, and how minimalist running can compliment it. They're also a local Michigan company, and they were convenient, being the only other minimalist footwear available in downtown Ann Arbor (at Bivouac on State Street). The one thing I really dislike is that they call the various types of shoes “Barefoot,” as in “Barefoot Run Trail Glove.” I disagree with using the word 'barefoot' with any kind of shoe (I prefer 'minimalist') so for this review I will just call them Trail Gloves.
Merrell Trail Gloves definitely look shoe-like, and probably most people wouldn't even be able to tell they were minimalist, but on closer inspection, the soles are significantly thinner, no cushion at all, with absolutely no raised heel. The sole is Vibram design: that is, Merrell is using the sort of the same material as for the VFFs, but although the shoes can be folded over, and feet can be moved fairly freely inside, the Trail Gloves are thicker than the VFFs, by design, with a somewhat sturdier (I don't want to say 'harder' though I guess it is) middle section which, depending on your needs may or may not be a good thing. The thicker soles 'protect' feet better than the VFFs from the small pokey things on trails.
The downside of that is of course that sensitivity is significantly decreased, so that I find myself striking harder when I run. This is especially true on pavement (sidewalks and bike trails) where, after runs, my legs, muscles and joints, just feel hammered and sore. I definitely run differently in Trail Gloves, even when I'm really trying to run in proper 'lifting feet' mode, and I know I'm running differently because different muscles get sore. Whereas when I first started running barefoot my lower calves got sore, now I find my shins do, and again, my joints get particularly sore: knees and ankles.
Once I started running in the Trail Gloves, I found myself going back to how I ran in 'regular' (ie evil) running shoes: avoiding pavement whenever possible, running in the dirt or grass next to roads, and tending towards trail runs. I will now never run on pavement with Trail Gloves, my legs just hurt to much afterwards.
That said, the Trail Gloves did fulfill my original intent: to keep my feet warm during cold snowy trail runs. My first real test was only two weeks after buying them, when I ran a Fat Ass Marathon in Brighton (again, please see my earlier post about this). The course was fairly level, but with a layer of packed snow over dirt. The temperature was below freezing to start off but by late morning was maybe upper thirties, so that there was some mud. I wore only the Merrells, no socks, and felt a little coldness on the toes waiting around before the race, but once I started running, my feet were fine. So, mission accomplished, though again, I knew I was running with a longer gait, striking harder than I would even in VFFs, but on the dirt/snow trail the 'wear' on my legs wasn't as great.
Trail Gloves 'feel' light, weight-wise, and thin. In fact, they look a lot like climbing shoes, which I'm sure the designers borrowed from. The difference is that, unlike with climbing shoes, or even 'regular' running shoes, the 'toe box' area is spacious, with plenty of wiggle room for the toes. In fact, the design of the shoes is such that the shoes are held tight on the sides, through the lacing system, allowing the toes to spread out as much as they want. The lacing system is hard to describe, but well designed, maybe even a little too well designed, since pulling the shoes tight (like, really tight) around the feet is really easy, again, sort of like climbing shoes. I think that Merrell thinks this is a good thing, and maybe for some runners it is, but I found the tightness around my arch uncomfortable, and after a few weeks use I ended up keeping the laces really really loose, enough only to keep the shoes on my feet, which is more of how my moccasins feel.
Here in Michigan, we've had an almost balmy Winter, with hardly no snow, and temps in the 40s, so that I've actually been out barefoot running in February! I've still be using the Merrells for trail runs, more out of curiosity than need, since with those temps I could be in VFFs, or even huaraches, and I've even gone for night runs, when temps dip down below freezing, in huaraches with Injinji socks on and have felt fine (keep in mind that I hate the cold and bundle up the rest of my body). When we have had snow, say one to three inches, the Merrells are perfect for trail running, keeping the snow off my feet, and they tend to dry overnight.
But, I really do not like the lack of sensitivity. After running barefoot so long, I can't really 'go back' to wearing what are basically shoes. For colder climates, I would recommend Merrell Trail Gloves during the Winter months, for trail running only. If I lived in southern or western climes, I would say they are just not necessary for barefoot runners, which I think are most of my readers. For those that are mainly minimalist runners, and are comfortable running in VFFs (say, even on pavement) the Trail Gloves would offer you a little more protection on trails, and the one time I could imagine wearing them during warm weather might be during that later stages of ultra runs, when I'm brain-foggy and running sloppy anyways.
For those who might be transitioning from 'regular' running shoes, Trail Gloves might offer the basic shoe feel while giving a bit more sensitivity, though really I would urge readers to just go all the way to barefoot, with maybe huaraches for minimal protection. The more minimal you go, the less protection you will want, and in any case I would NOT recommend running on pavement in Trail Gloves, especially if you are not familiar with proper barefoot running technique. Do NOT run by heel striking in these or any minimalist shoes.
More interestingly, Merrell makes a form of the Trail Gloves that is a dress shoe, the Barefoot Life Tough Gloves, with black leather, though with laces and the same bottoms, kind of LL Bean chic, which would be great for the barefooter who wants no support or cushion, but needs a dress shoe for work or interviews. I plan to acquire a pair of these, because the Trail Gloves are comfortable to walk around in.
Approximate cost: $110
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Shit Barefoot Runners say
I have a review of Merrell Trail Gloves in the works, waiting on photos. In the meantime, if you haven't seen it, check out this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPdb7ZDJKS4
Stay tuned!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPdb7ZDJKS4
Stay tuned!
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