paper-feet sandals: a review

This week at the Ann Arbor Art Fair, I found an interesting booth by the paper-feet company, started by some local Ann Arborites. Their idea in ingenious in its simplicity: They buy old billboard ads and cut them up into a design that, along with strategically applied velcro strips, allow for 'tabs' to be folded up and over the top of the foot, making for a super lightweight, and super thin, sandal.

I thought billboards were printed on regular paper, but it turns out they're actually a canvas-like material, which is, according to Jimmy, one of their sales reps, “billboard banner vinyl, flexible fiber-reinforced PVC,” which is actually pretty tough. Walking around in them, I found I could still feel street grit, but only as 'bumps', rather than something 'pokey.' They also cut down, a little, on the 'sand paper' feel of sidewalks and pavement, though I don't mind that at all now that my feet are more hobbit-like. One of the tabs comes up between the big toe and second toe (whatever it's called) and ends up as kind of a scrunched up thong, though not uncomfortable at all.

I asked Jimmy how long a pair would last, and he showed me the pair he had been wearing regularly for three months, and the bottoms, while showing some wear (ie dirt more than anything) didn't seem to be even close to wearing out, or through. I think actually a person could even run in paper-feet, though at that point I'd say they may as well just go barefoot. I did have the idea that someone could carry a pair during a marathon if they weren't sure about being able to run the whole way, and/or if they weren't sure if there were rough gravel spots. It would actually be interesting to run a marathon in them to see how well they stand up, but at this point I'm more interested in pushing myself with the barefoot running. Unless they sponsored me? [hint hint].

Their lightweight-ness is actually why I'm reviewing them here, not for barefoot running, but as an 'aid' to the barefoot lifestyle. Because they're so lightweight, and can literally be rolled or folded up and put in a purse, or even a back pocket, they would be great for going around town, in case a situation came up where I had to be shod. For example, going out to eat: If the manager really made a fuss about my bare feet, I could pull the paper-feet out of my pocket and slip them on, hopefully with the whole restaurant watching!

They look a little odd, but no more odder than VFFs. In fact, most people don't seem to notice that I”m wearing paper, and, for example, when I walk into a café I don't get the immediate 'group stare' that I do going barefoot, or even in my VFFs. They are comfortable, mainly because paper is about as thin a layer one could find. No padding, no arch support, almost no nothing. They're the next best thing to being barefoot, and would work well for those folks who just don't like getting their feet dirty. Sometimes after a long barefoot run, my feet feel a little raw. These would be great for those times. Best of all, they're made from recycled material.

The cost for a pair is around $15. The paper-feet sandals come in small, medium and large sizes. I'm normally an American size 10, and ended up with a pair of 'mediums', though I'm still playing with the velcro tabs, which seem to have a fairly wide ranges. There's no color choice per se, because the sandals come from the mix of colors from whichever billboard canvas the company has bought, though they'll find you a pair that comes close. You can specify if you want something more mellow (I chose a black, grey and white look) or, if you like the idea of making people notice and freak out a little (a la the VFFs) with something more noticeable, like a bright red pair.

paper-feet info:
www.paper-feet.com
(814) FOR-FEET
(814) 367-3338
More pics:

Side view


paper-feet on my feet!

Injuries I Have Known

I would like to write about all the injuries that I've had while barefoot running, for at least two reasons: One, just to be honest. Some of the barefoot 'gods' like Barefoot Ken Bob and Barefoot Ted seem to be invincible, and maybe they are. Myself, I've definitely had some things go wrong, and I'd like to share those incidents in order to give people a more realistic idea of what barefoot running entails, and maybe so that they can avoid some of my silly blunders. Not that I want to scare people away, not at all, because all these little pains are worth it. As I've described elsewhere, I couldn't run for almost two years due to plantar fasciitis, which I acquired through wearing shoes. I'll never go back, and I'll take any bumps and bruises.

Despite, and maybe because of, the things I'm about to describe, I've never felt more alive when running than I have in the past year and a half. I don't like these minor pains, but somehow they keep me honest, and curious, and alert, and ensure that running is a continual experiment.

Without further ado, here's a list, with commentary of some injuries:

Glass
This is the most common question I get when people see me out running barefoot, and the most common concern, or fear, conjuring up the scene from the first Die Hard movie, where Bruce Willis has to run barefoot along a floor filled with broken glass, and then in the next scene we see him pulling a huge shard out of his foot. But one thing you will learn when running barefoot is that you almost automatically pay attention to where you're running. I've even noticed that on the rare occasions when I run with my VFFs or huaraches that I tend to let my eyes wander. Unprotected, my eyes automatically focus in on what's in front of me.

I live in Ann Arbor, a big college town, with lots of angsty young people who like to express their anger at having to go to the University of Michigan by smashing beer bottles on sidewalks. Given that, glass is mostly very visible, especially the bigger pieces. The only time I've ever almost stepped on a big piece of glass is when it's been swept into the grass next to a sidewalk.

Having said that, yes, I have stepped on pieces of glass. Three times in the last year and a half. The size of the pieces have all been about a quarter of the size of my pinky finger nail. The first time, a couple months after I'd started running barefoot, was the worst, I think in part because the bottoms of my feet hadn't quite thickened up yet. In any case, I felt it immediately, a small pain in my left foot. When I looked, there was a piece of glass sticking out of the ball of my feet, with a little blood. I pulled it out and went home and cleaned it. The bleeding stopped immediately, there was no pain, and I just ran in my VFFs. What I found though, was that a small piece of glass had broken off when I pulled out the larger piece (which again, was small) and become lodged in my skin. So, I had to go back and dig it out with some tweezers and a knife. I put a bandaid on it, ran in VFFs for a couple days, and was fine.

Later that summer the same thing happened, this time when I was walking. I felt a small sharp pain, checked my foot, and pulled out a small piece of glass. No blood. Actually the 'pain' was more just the sensation of having something stick in me. My feet were thick enough that the glass didn't even penetrate.

The third time was this last spring, about six months after the previous two. I was running through a parking lot on the way to the 'Arb,' when I felt a sharp sensation. Ihecked my foot and again, a piece of glass sticking out of my foot. This one was actually a little bigger, and it was sticking vertically out. I just pulled it out and kept going.

Splinters
I've actually found splinter to be more annoying than glass. The park where I run a lot has two wooden bridges, made with railroad ties, and I've been poked a couple of times. Again, no blood, but the splinters lodged into my calluses and they were tough to get out. I used a knife and tweezers, just like with the glass.

I've also gotten a couple splinters trail-running, when I just seem to come down on small branches hidden under leaves (though mostly I'm a fan of leaves, they're soft and cover up bumpy rocks). Again, never any blood, just the annoyance of having to run with something poking into my foot.

Cuts, scrapes and bruises
I do get these when I trail run. Mostly I don't even feel them when I'm running, just afterwards I'll look down and see them. These come from both rocks and branches and usually are on the parts of the feet without calluses, like in the arch area and the insides of the feet. But, I'll get them on the soles too. When trail running, I will also sometimes feel the pokes. I cannot lie, sometimes they hurt, and sometimes I hit a rock or stone just so, so that it just really really pokes, and I know I'm going to have a bruise from it. Fun? No, but this doesn't happen all the time. I run in Michigan, where the trails are mostly sand or mud, and usually a pleasure to run through. If a trail gets rocky, I slow down.

Oddly, when I ran my first trail marathon this Spring, my feet emerged almost unscathed. I've scraped myself up worse on one of the trails down in Barton Park by the Huron River.

The worst terrain, where I get the most cuts, scrapes and bruises, is on gravel roads. I've gotten better in my ability to run them, and I try to push myself run on them sometimes, to challenge myself and build up some toughness, but mostly they're a pain in the butt. Or foot.

I've actually scraped up my feet pretty bad just running on pavement. It's bizarre, but I seem to be kind of a sloppy runner and end up hitting my toes on curbs, so that I've torn open gashes on my big toes more than once. I think I'm kind of unique in this, and I'm not proud of it.

I've also stubbed my toes pretty bad, but usually this happens when I'm wearing my VFFs, because the toe sockets seem to 'catch' on things my bare feet would breeze right over. Also, my own stupidity: The worst time was when I was in The Great Smoky Mountain National Park, and ran farther out on a trail than I'd thought, with the sun going down. I got a little panicky and tried to run back before it got dark, instead of just patiently walking back, and really stubbed my middle toes bad. Again, the toe sockets in the VFFs seemed to catch, and that's one reason why I've said that they don't seem to add much to the running experience. Or, not anything useful.

Plantar fasciitis? Again?
When I first started barefoot running last summer, my plantar fasciitis vanished, almost immediately. It was a miracle. Then over the Winter and into Spring I started to feel that annoying ache again, not in the same place (instead of the heel, it was more in the arch and on the inside of the foot) but enough to worry me. After attending a workshop with Barefoot Ken Bob, and getting a refresher on BF basics, I realized I'd actually strayed from the BF running technique I'd started out with, which was to bend the legs a lot. Instead, I'd switched to running more on the balls of the feet, which caused a strain on my heel and ankle. I think I'd been lulled into thinking that I didn't need to bend my legs that much, by posters on Ken Bob's Yahoo! BF Group, and then with the cold weather I'd been experimenting with the VFFs and moccasins, and when I decided to just continue barefoot running, perhaps I was tempted to lift as much as my foot off the ground as possible, just because the ground was freezing!

In any case, now that I've gone back to bending my legs as much as possible, and taking smaller strides, the fasciitis ache seems to be going away.

wtf?
But the worst thing happened recently, and I'm embarrassed to say it happened when I was merely walking barefoot. I was leaving a bright sunny parking lot into a dark tree-covered trail, where I was a little blinded for a second. Right in the moment of blindness, my foot hit what I think was a root. And when I say hit, I meant HIT. It felt like I'd kicked something, and I have no idea why. I must have just hit the root, or whatever it was, at just the right angle so that all of my body weight was on it. Its 'impact' was right at the front part of the foot, right where the 'ball of the foot' section starts to curve up to the toes, so right where the thick part of my sole thins out.

It hurt, but I was more surprised than anything. I mean, I was walking! I checked my foot, there seems to be a minor scrape, but I didn't pay it too much attention, figuring I'd probably have a bruise the next day. But, as I kept walking, the pain continued, and my foot got a little tender. I finally checked again and realized there was blood all over my toes. Apparently, whatever I'd hit, or kicked, came at just the right angle to penetrate just above the thick part of my sole, right at the base of my second toe, and scraped it open, going deep enough to cause bleeding. Argh.

I turned around, but still had a couple miles to walk back home. I just let it bleed, figuring that was the best way to keep the cut clean at that moment, and by the time I got to my apartment, the bleeding had stopped. There, I washed it out, though there wasn't a 'flap' of skin so much as a 'pocket.' I'd been stabbed. I still can't quite believe a piece of root could penetrate me, especially at that angle. So, I held off on running for a week, and wore my VFFs and moccasins while walking around, to keep out dirt.

Conclusion
I fear that in listing all these (minor!) injuries, I'll scare people away from trying barefoot running. I hope not, because I'm leaving out all the good things. The injuries are about 1% of my running experience, if that even. The rest is all the wonderful sensations, the mud, the water, the sand, the mulberries. The sun. The air. The not paying $120 for a pair of shoes. The being able to run again period.

When I ran in shoes, I never suffered some of the injuries I later heard people complaining about, like losing toe nails, or blisters. Compared to those, the things I'm describing seem minor. That's not to mention the larger, long-term, injuries that shoes create, like the dreaded plantar fasciitis, but also the ground down knees, the back pain, I've even heard about hips hurting. I'll take a poke in the foot to those things any day.

But I don't want to end on something negative like having to choose the lesser of two pains. Running barefoot just feels good. I think I even like the pokes and scrapes, as long as they're not too pokey or scrapey. I like the sensation of having sensation down there.

Pics from the Ken Bob workshop

Ken Bob talking to the group


Me and the legendary Barefoot Ken Bob!



Ken Bob talking to the group



Ken Bob talking, Sidetracks owner on far left



The lovely Jen and Ken Bob


Jen, Ken Bob, and I

Pics courtesy of Jen!

Ken Bob workshop, Okemos MI: a review

Barefoot Ken Bob's Barefoot Running Workshop
@Playmakers
June 25th, 2010 Okemos, MI
A Review

My friend Jen and I drove up from Ann Arbor, and we got caught in a mysterious and vague traffic jam, causing us to be a little late, twenty minutes or so, but we weren't even the last to arrive. After pulling into the parking lot, we followed the first barefoot people we saw, around the side of the building where, voilà, there was a whole gaggle of barefoot people. That in itself was nice to see.

There seemed to be around thirty people, a good mix of men and women. Almost everybody over thirty, more around my age (early 40s), and, I'm happy to say, a few older gentlemen. Old dogs learning new tricks!

And there was the legendary Barefoot Ken Bob! He would stand out in any crowd with his long salt and pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail (he and I were the only longhairs) and his signature beard down to his chest. He was already into his spiel, though later when he re-capped what he'd gone over, it seemed we hadn't missed anything. The whole time he was there he never stopped smiling, and was so enthusiastic about barefoot running he seemed to want to talk as fast as possible to share everything he could. As he spoke, he used lots of little side-anecdotes to help illustrate points, and occasionally started running around the little parking lot area we were in to give physical demonstrations.

Unfortunately, the owner of Playmakers, perhaps trying to sincerely help Ken Bob stay focused, kept interrupting more and more, until finally he was running around trying to demonstrate his technique as well. After a while, he was interrupting Ken Bob mid-sentence, which I found aggravating. Apparently though, this talk from Ken Bob was part of a series of workshops on barefoot running that the owner had been hosting, and other people there seemed ok with him kind of taking charge, though after a while he was actually contradicting Ken Bob on running technique, particularly on how much a runner should bend their knees. I finally figured out his intention, or agenda, when he said, and I quote, that “barefoot running is a tool” to help people run better in shoes. He doesn't want people to run barefoot, he wants them to buy his VFFs and/or regular shoes.

Ken Bob for the most part was very deferential, perhaps too much, and he kept smiling, and listening patiently while the owner spoke, though at the end, while still smiling, Ken Bob seemed to start disagreeing with some of the owner's statements. For example, the owner brought up how his company donates shoes to people in Kenya, saying that when he had asked them if they wanted shoes, they said yes. Ken bob pointed out, correctly in my opinion, that often people from underprivileged countries want whatever people from rich countries have, if only as a status symbol, meaning that they may have wanted those just because they saw all the rich Americans wearing them. But, as soon as Ken bob started to make that argument, the owner cut him off.

Another moment where Ken Bob seemed to grow frustrated was when the owner started having us do some short running exercises on the side street we were on, which, also in my opinion, didn't seem to do much, mainly because we were only “running” about 100 feet. But it was the fact that the owner kind of took over the workshop at that point, and started giving instructions, while Ken Bob kind of stood off to the side and watched. After one little 'run,' Ken Bob offered up that he had some exercises of his won we might try, but he was ignored.

I'd actually expected that we would all take a longer run together, based on descriptions of other Ken Bob workshops I'd read, but no. And, after the 'exercises,' the question about injuries came up. One of the things Ken Bob said was about how how he'd helped a friend of his cure his plantar fasciitus just by bending his knees more at work. The owner of Playmakers then told a doozie: That “going barefoot can actually aggravate plantar fasciitus.” That's where I wanted to say, 'you don't know what you're talking about,' but I held my tongue, merely shaking my head and mouthing 'No.' He saw me and quickly changed the subject.

One final weirdness: the first part of the workshop took place outside the store, from 6:30-8:00, then there was a “Q&A” session scheduled for in the store, after it was officially closed. Jen and I were some of the first inside, since many of the groups went to their cars to put on shoes (?!). When we walked inside, an older male employee (of course), saw us come in, saw our barefoot, and started to freak out, beginning to tell us we couldn't be in the store without shoes, until another woman that came in with us gently chastised him: “Oh come now, you're not really going to have a barefoot running workshop then tell us we need shoes, are you?”

There was no Q&A session. In fact, that would have been impossible with a group since the store has a huge river/waterfall burbling away in back. When I saw that the employees behind the register weren't leaving, I realized we weren't supposed to have a Q&A—The thirty of us were supposed to shop. Oddly, most of the people in the group seemed into that, and dispersed around the store, though maybe they were just waiting for instructions that never came. But a handful of us hung around Ken Bob, who graciously listened to questions and continued to chat, until the owner took him aside and (seemingly) tried to keep him from everyone. Jen and I went after him anyway and got our pics taken with Ken Bob, and left.

The most informative part of the workshop was just watching Ken Bob actually run. I wish there had been a way for him to run for a longer period of time, like in a long circle, to be able to observe him even more, but here are my impressions: First, the guy is fast. His legs pump fast, but the rest of his body, upper torso and arms, just stays steady and level. Second, he keeps his legs bent, like really super bent. Third, his feet stay right under him, and lift up and behind, bending from the knee. He does not take long strides at all. His strides are super short. Just quick.

Here's what I remember about he said, with some commentary:
Keep your legs bent. The rougher the terrain, the more you should bend them.
Do NOT run on the balls of your feet. This causes stress on the heel and calves. Likewise, do NOT 'push off' with the balls of the feet or toes. BF running is all about just lifting the feet up.
Land, for the most part, with the whole foot. In fact, bending the knees makes running on the balls of the feet almost impossible
The metronome pace you should shoot for is 180. (In his book, The Barefoot Running Handbook, Jason Robillard gives the helpful advice that the song “Turning Japanese” is at a 180 pace. Now I sing that chorus to myself all the time)
When running to a cadence, LIFT your feet on the 'downbeat.' If we 'strike' on the downbeat, we have a tendency to strike harder.
In fact, he emphasized over and over how important LIFTING the feet is, to always be thinking of lifting the feet rather thinking of bringing them down.
Take faster steps (ie the 180 two-step), but to make them shorter. He quoted Caballo Blanco: “When given the choice between taking one step or two, take three.”
He also discussed the idea of “falling forward” and letting our weight work for us. But, to lean from the hips rather than farther up the torso. Keep the head level. Easier to do going downhill, but the same principle applies running on level ground.

Personal reflection
The big revelation for me was the bending of the knees. I'd actually originally done this when I first started running barefoot, but then read a couple posts on Ken Bob's Yahoo! Group that said this wasn't necessary, so, like a doofus, because not bending the knees seemed easier (and it's on the Internet! It must be true!) I believed them.

Also, again because of a few posts I read, I started to run on the balls of my feet last Fall, and developed some kind of fasciitus pain in the Winter and Spring. So, now I'm going back to bent knees, as bent as I can get them. Seeing Barefoot Ken Bob, the Guru of Barefoot Running, in action, was way more informative than any discussion group or book. I highly recommend seeing a real BF runner in action.

The highlight of the night as actually after the workshop, when Jen suggested we go for an evening run around the MSU campus, our old stomping grounds. Perfect weather, the campus mostly deserted and quiet on a Friday night. We got to try out Ken Bob's techniques immediately. I concentrated on keeping my knees bent, and keeping the “Turning Japanese” cadence, with small steps. We ran about 45 minutes, and felt like we could've kept going, but opted to go get Sir Pizza. I was worried I might have 'TMTSed' with that funny pain I've been having, but the next day my foot felt fine. Thank you Barefoot Ken Bob!

Link to Barefoot Ken Bob's website, therunningbarefoot.com
Pics:

The Barefoot Running Book: A Review

The Barefoot Running Book: a practical guide to the art & science of barefoot & minimalist shoe running
by Jason Robillard
61 pages
$15.00
ISBN 978-0-615-35444

When I started reading Jason Robillard's The Barefoot Running Book, I wished I could have had it last year when I started running barefoot. It's not that I couldn't, and didn't, find most of the information contained in the book elsewhere, but it was all haphazard, primarily through discussions on Barefoot Ken Bob's Yahoo! Barefoot Running Forum. This book puts all that information together, in an orderly manner, and with some humor!

The Barefoot Running Book walks a potential beginner through the basics, including, in the opening essay, why to run barefoot, but also the basic terminology, and philosophy, of barefoot running. In addition, and breaking with barefoot running purists, he includes some recommendations about minimalist shoe running, and shoes. Someone like me, who tends to be a little stubborn and more willing to jump right into things, might skip his “Pre-running” section. All I needed to know was that barefoot running was possible, then I just started going out and trying it, with initial success, but I have had my TMFS (too much too soon) injury troubles. Curious folks might appreciate Robillard's more careful advice, to build confidence and foot strength.

Robillard makes sure to emphasize experimentation, and the principle that “there is no single right answer” to barefoot running, and he does include advice from different perspectives. For example, in discussing proper running posture, he describes both the “Fall Forward” and “Keep Feet Under Body” methods. Since I've recently been working through a minor pain in my left heel, this section in particular made me re-think my own posture. I've been in the latter camp, but now I've been experimenting with the former. So, even after a year of running barefoot, I find things in this book that keep me experimenting.

Two quibbles: One, the $15 price, which seems a bit much for a 60 page handbook. Two, there is no real discussion of the difference between barefoot running and minimalist shoe running. Robillard recommends going primarily barefoot, but suggests minimalist shoes for extreme temperatures. Maybe I'm betraying my purist leanings, but there really does seem to be a difference between running barefoot and running in minimalist shoes. My Vibram Five Fingers served me well when I first started, but as I grew more used to running barefoot, I started noticing that my feet tended to hurt when I used them, so I just stopped wearing them altogether. My VFFs, and moccasins, felt almost too protective, causing me to strike harder with my feet, though his may just be a personal idiosyncrasy. I would like to see more 'science' about the differences between barefoot and minimalist running styles, which is perhaps too far out of Robillard's range of expertise. Still, he does discuss the VFFs in more detail on his blog. In the next edition of the book, maybe he could include a separate section or chapter on minimalist running.

A nice personal touch in the book is Robillard's encouragement of barefoot runners to be “ambassadors” out in the shod running world, arguing that, if we barefoot runners agree that running barefoot is good for us, we're helping other people by encouraging their curiosity. In his “Other topics” section he gives some humorous examples of people's responses to seeing someone running barefoot, many of which I've heard myself, but he urges that we barefoot runners always be polite and, if possible, funny, in talking with people, with the hope that they'll 'take the plunge' and try barefoot running themselves.

For someone who is curious about barefoot running, I would recommend this book as a handy guide to start with, saving much time navigating online discussion groups. As an intermediate to advanced barefoot runner (I've run two half-marathons and two full marathons in the past year), with nagging minor injury, I found the book a good review, and source of reflection. For all levels of barefoot runners, going with Robillard's 'ambassador' idea, this book would make a great gift to someone you know who's expressed interest in the lifestyle. Might be nice to have a copy handy nearby so that when (and not if) someone asks about barefoot running, you can immediately hand it to them and say, “Here, read this!”

Order this book through Amazon.com here.

For more info on Jason Robillard, visit:
his website, The Barefoot Running University
his blog, The Barefoot Chronicles

Also, you might run into Jason, and me, at the Runner's World Barefoot Running Forum

Dexter Ann Arbor Half-Marathon: Race Report

It's early. Again. These early races are killing me. Even though this race it right in my home town, Ann Arbor, and the finish line is three blocks from my house, I still had to get up at 5:30. Since the race starts in Dexter, a small town northwest-ish from Ann Arbor, and follows the Huron River all the way back, the organizers have, thoughtfully, provided buses from Ann Arbor. To make sure I arrive in time for a bus, I decided to get there early, which is an example of how being the good boy gets you nowhere, since we were dropped off at an elementary school in Dexter and waited around an hour, watching later buses come in.

This is sort of a goodbye race for me, since I'll be leaving Ann Arbor by the end of the summer, in a few months. And, it's a fitting route, both because it was my regular bike route when I first moved here three years ago, and because it's a gorgeous scenic road going back and forth to the to the different sides of the river, which itself is huge and wide and quiet. The leaves are out on the trees, everything lush. A little sunlight would be nice, but even with the cloudy sky, should be a quiet tranquil run. Ok, not tranquil with 2600 people, but there won't be a lot of spectators until we hit Ann Arbor proper.

The weather is colder and rainier than predicted. I am only wearing short and a t-shirt, and my plan was to take the t-shirt off for the race, but I don't think that will be necessary.

I am barefoot. Again. I feel ok about this half-marathon, since I ran the Pinckney Trail Marathon only six weeks ago. A half marathon is my normal Sunday morning run, though at a slightly faster pace. I am interested in the pace I can keep while barefoot. I ran the Sumerset Stampede Half Marathon last summer, in my Vibram Five Fingers (VFFs), my first competitive race ever since I'd started running barefoot and was able to run again after two years off due to the dreaded plantar fasciitus, and I was pleasantly surprised at my time: 1:42, about an eight minute mile. I'm wondering if I can sustain/duplicate that.

Since there was a huge thunderstorm last night, right when we're living up to start, the race is delayed a half hour, due to there being a tree down across the road. Which doesn't seem like a big deal to me—we're not in cars after all. Climbing over a tree sounds like fun. Primal. But that gives everyone a chance to run back to the porta-potties and pee one more time.

Finally, the tree gets cleared apparently, and we line up for a 9:00 start. I decide to line up around the ten minute mile folks (we have some pacers holding signs) not all the way in back, but slower than I plan on running, in order to just warm up, and experiment with a strategy Barefoot Ken Bob shared with me, to start in back, so for most of the race I'll be passing people. A psychological boost.

The start is not too high tech. No bells or whistles, just someone up front with a cap gun, and everyone surges forward...and stops. And starts walking. Fortunately, but the time I actually cross the start line there's room to trot. I just want to warm up for a bit, so that's fine. My main concern is keeping a space in front of me so I can see the road and any rocks and pebbles I might step on, since right here in Dexter there seems to be a few.

We loop around through downtown Dexter. With the overcast sky, I'm actually not sure what in direction we started running, though we seem to be making a circle, until finally there's the corner store where Huron River Drive begins, and when I 'd usually turn around on my bike rides. And, there's the river. One of these days I should figure out where the Huron starts and end up, since I've spend a lot of time on its banks these past three years. Strange: I've met people in Ann Arbor who have never even been down to it at all.

And now that we're running, the comments begin: “Barefoot?!” “Hey, look at that guy, he's barefoot!” “Wow that's hardcore.” “Ouch!”

A young woman comes up to me, calling me “sir,” which both is hilarious and makes me feel old. She says she's seen me running around Kerry Town (a neighborhood near my apartment) lots of times. “I just want to say how much I admire you.”

I tell her thank you. She says a friend of hers tried running barefoot for about two months but hurt her hips some how, so stopped. That's a new one, and seems odd. I wonder why that would be, or if the running was really the cause, but I still suggest to her that she should try it herself, for three weeks, just to see. She says maybe, and then we don't have time to talk, she has to get back to her friends. This is where my friend Melissa would be like, 'did you get her number?' Well, no, we're running a race, just two human beings talking about a mutual interest. And then Melissa would shake her head. Well, she was cute. But, 'sir'?

I think I'm the only barefoot runner, though I've seen a couple VFFers. One guy and I, before the race, were comparing how we attached our race 'chips,' or 'bands,' since they're designed to loop through shoe laces. He had his hanging from one of the back heels. Me, I wrapped mine in duct tape, then taped it around my right ankle. I'm telling you, you can do anything with duct tape!

Have I said enough about the beauty and sexiness of female runners? Can enough ever be said? The firm sleek bodies, the disciplined personalities. But what's the deal with those skorts? Why have a skirt, when there are shorts underneath? Don't they realize that the skirt part covers up their asses so that us men can't stare at them? What fun is that?

Fortunately, there are others who take their job of pleasing men seriously, wearing tight black lycra things that just look....amazing. I pass one, and there's another, and so I pass the race, like life, going from one beautiful woman to another.

And, rain. A light drizzle. We pavement tends to tear up my feet more. Or, rather, the water cause my calluses to soften. Not sure how I'd do in a full marathon in the rain, on pavement, but I'm ok for this distance, though perhaps I'm running a little slower, a little more sensitive to the pebbles, though really, over all, the road is ok. No real rough spots, or if there are, we have both lanes and I can scoot over to the other side.

The rockier parts are at intersection, where cars tend to track in dirt and debris, and where the pavement breaks up a little more. Also, there are dirt roads feeding out onto Huron Drive, and with the rain last night, some of them have become mini-rivers.

I'm setting a fast pace for myself. Still finding myself wanting to do the long-legged shod shuffle, which would be very bad for my heels. Instead, I am taking shorter strides, faster, less action from the things (or so it feels) and more from the knees and calves, trying to keep my feet relaxed, which is hard when trying to force myself to go fast. but if my feet aren't relaxed, I feel myself stat to land more on the heel. If anything, my ideal stride feels more like I'm 'pulling' myself along with the front portion of my feet, the ball and toes.

But, I'm trying to keep a pace where I'm just slightly winded. I'm passing people chatting up a storm, thinking, if you can talk, you can run faster. But hey, it's all good. I like this pace. For a marathon, I'd be going slower, planning for the long haul. For a half, I know I can push myself. I'm not going to be physically exhausted at the end, so I can push myself harder right from the beginning. Ideally, if I were more serious, or took running seriously, instead of for fun, I'd love to be able to run this pace for a full marathon. Alas, no.

Another woman comes up to ask about barefoot running. I explain my history with it.

“Well, you must have amazing feet. I could never do that. My feet are too sensitive.”

Is she implying that I'm insensitive? But I just tell her she could do it, to try it for three weeks.

“Well, ok....”

I know. Two years ago I would've said it's crazy. In fact, I did. Out in Arizona, working at a wildland firefighter, I heard rumours of guys running barefoot and in moccasins, and I thought, wow, that's cool, they're hardcore, but never did I ever consider it until out of desperation, of of a sense of, 'it's either this, or never run again.' I wish I could convince people to try it before they get injured. And, I'm convinced that with today's running shoes, getting injured is a matter of when, not if.

Digital clocks are set up along the routes, and suddenly we're fifty minutes in, then an hour. Man, this goes quick. I'm over halfway done. I realize that there haven't been any mile markers at all, which I kind of like. No excuse to mentally psych myself out.

I'm still passing people, more slowly now, but it does feel good, I cannot tell a lie. Like I have an edge. So, starting at the back has it's benefits. But, the gasps of “Barefoot?!” get a little old. Can't blame them, I'd do the same. Some people though, just don't seem to realize that when I'm twenty feet in front of them I can still hear them talk about me, like the guy who goes into a long story to his friend: “I tried that back when I was in college and wanted to prove how tough I was. You know, looking in the National Geographic and seeing pictures of guys from Kenya running barefoot. So I tired it, until I stepped on a rock and it hurt. That was enough. My dad was a doctor, and when I came limping home, he didn't even have to say anything, just gave me that dad look, like I was a dumbass.”

He kept talking, but I finally sped up enough to get out of hearing range, though I wanted to run around and ask, “Are you calling me a dumbass? You're the sissy that couldn't take a rock. Did you continue to always do what your daddy approved of?”

And so on and so forth yadda yadda yadda. At least I can take satisfaction in knowing I'm going to beat him.

Ah, nothing like a little friendly competition to motivate folks. Well, really, I'm trying to see if I can beat myself, since my barefoot paces, in the two marathons I've run, have been slower than my previous shod paces. Though, there are other factors, like that I'm five years older. But no, never surrender!

Anyways, there are other folks who are kind enough to say things like, “Dude, good job.” Likewise, good job to them. Everyone out here came to do two things, kick ass and chew bubblegum, and they're all out of bubblegum.

There's actually a band for this race! Excellent. And they're rocking out to Johnny B. Goode. Ha! A good sign.

And have I mentioned the women? There have been a couple just wearing super short-shorts and just a sports bra. My god. Are those even real running shorts? Do they really make running shorts that short? it's a blessing, really. They have blessed me.

We reach the section of road that I've run before, and that really rough part, which yes, is still rough. But that's the worst. After this, there's brand new pavement on into town. And, since there was a 10K earlier, which started in Ann Arbor, came out here, then turned around, there are still orange cones running down the middle of the road, and for some reason, everyone is bunching up in the right lane, leaving the left one entirely open. All that space in front of me, calling me. Running with people is a good motivator, but when I'm tired, I can get tempted to just lock into the general pace of everyone around me. Plus, passing is easier, I don't have to duck and weave. Not that I'm passing that fast anymore. And, to be honest, I'm getting passed too. I wasn't the only lurker in the back.

We reach the turnoff onto Main Street, and one of the spectators yells that we only have a mile to go. Whew, I'm winded. I couldn't talk if I tried, and neither can anybody around me. But I keep up the pace, remembering biking down this road on Saturday mornings in the Fall, when cars filled with Wolverine fans were locked bumper to bumper. And how much of a pleasure it was to pass them.

And, I'd forgotten, Main Street goes uphill into town. Ugh. Well, hills are my specialty, and just by maintaining my pace, I'm passing people again because they're slowing down. Thank you Four Corner states for showing me what a hill really looks like!

Now we're getting more spectators, and as we get into downtown proper, the finish line in sight, the sidewalks are crowded, and for some reason, I'm really visible or something, because people are seeing me and yelling “Go barefoot runner!” and word seems to spread ahead of me. How embarrassing and weird. But right now I have locked in on 'finishing strong mode.' Once I can see the end, I try to push myself, deplete my reserves, feet scrambling, pumping my arms, jaw set, passing more folks, who seem if anything to be slowing down. Briefly, the thought comes that I might try smiling at this point, this is fun after all. But—

Done!

Whew. Catching my breath, but I feel good. Strong. I ran as strong as I could, consistently, the whole time. My time is around 1:50ish, I think, so, a little slower than last year, but ok. Still respectable. I filter down the chute, grab a bottle of water and my cheaply-made medal. The best part? I can now just walk three blocks back to my apartment and a hot shower.

First Marathon

[Note: This is an old essay, from when I ran 'shod' but I haven't ever published it anywhere else, and I thought folks might enjoy]

I didn’t sleep very well the night before, though I went to bed early. Getting up while it is still dark, and cold, I’m not hungry, though I know I’ll need some energy later, so I gnaw on a bagel as my mom drives us into town. At first there aren’t a lot of cars, but then gradually more and more appear, and I start to get an idea of just how many people are running in this thing: Traffic gets clogged. I check my watch and make a back-up plan with my mom that if we can’t park in time I’ll just get out and meet up with her later. But we make it into a designated lot and get out, joining the lines heading north to Grant Park. People everywhere. No cars. The whole city of Chicago shut down to traffic for this Sunday morning, and just that alone makes the entrance fee for the race worth it.

I say goodbye to my mom so she can get going over to a good spot along the course. Unfortunately, we don’t plan a specific spot or time along the course to meet, so I don’t ever see her, though she will see me run by briefly, but with no time to take a picture. I sit in the grass in the park, trying to stay warm until people start to line up. Including my running shoes, I’m just wearing a long sleeve shirt and cut-off camouflage shorts, cotton by the way, and the temperature is in the low 50s at most. When a crowd starts to form at the starting area, I join them, if only for the radiant body heat, though we’ll wait there at least a half-hour standing up. I’m back in the ‘open’ section, with the folks who have no hope or desire to do anything but finish. There are time markers posted every twenty-five feet or so, that say 10:00 or 8:00, referring to how fast of an average minute mile people think they’ll run. Since this is my first marathon, and I basically just train by running times units (as in run for an hour, or run for two hours) I have no idea where I should be, so I decide to hang out with the ten minute folks.

I feel very out of place, which I like: Everyone is wearing their running shorts and wicking shirts, with their ‘bat utility belts’ full of sports gels and other goodies. I have long hair, and have decided to not pull it back, in order to feel more wild, but that, plus my cotton clothes, are things I will regret pretty soon, and mark me as an amateur. Still, I kind of like the idea of being oddball. I’m just spent a summer as a wildland firefighter, where getting dirty and suffering physically is a regular day. I want to show people you don’t need all that fancy stuff to run a marathon. Famous last words.

It’s never clear when the race officially starts. Some guy gives a speech we can’t really hear through the loudspeakers from the PA. We just hear cheers from up front as the wheelchair guys start off first, then a few minutes later a louder cheer, a roar, as the competition class runners, the insane Kenyans and all those guys, start their twenty-six mile sprint. A Van Halen song starts blaring, why Van Halen I don’t know, and it ends and we still haven’t started moving! Then the roar spreads to our area, we roar ourselves, starting to move, and Pink Floyd’s “Run Like Hell” begins to play, sending shivers up my spine: The lyrics are actually about running out of fear of getting killed, and I’m not sure the organizers know that, but it does bring out the primalness of the race, of running in general. That first Greek guy didn’t run those 26.2 miles for fun, he ran to warn a city about an invading army.

After that brief moment of creepiness, the fun begins. Finally, we are moving. Everyone is smiling, looking around at the people cheering us on, full of energy. I’m running fast, pumped on adrenaline, passing most people, dodging in and around them. I probably should have started farther up, in the 8:00 minute mile group maybe. People on the sidelines are screaming and waving. For us? Crazy. And yet, 35,000+ people starting out on a 26.2 miles race in the middle of Chicago does lend itself to an infectious energy to anybody there. It is kind of amazing that that many people have come together to challenge each other, and to help each other fulfill that challenge.
It’s not until mile 10 that I think to think about whether I should be tired or not, and even then I tell myself I’m not and keep going for a couple more miles. At mile 12 or 13 though, I do start to feel it. That’s about the farthest I’ve ever run regularly. As part of my training, I did run 17 miles once, a month before the race, to push myself a little, but 12 miles is a lot and I’m usually exhausted afterwards. I’m slowing down, the tide is changing. Instead of passing people, people are passing me. Here is where the mental stuff starts to get to me, the doubt, knowing I am not even halfway. But around this time, two hours in, a buzz starts to go through the runners: The first runners have finished! What?! In two hours?! That’s insane! That’s like...under a seven minute mile for 26 miles I think. It hurts my head to calculate it. It hurts my body to think about it. I am a pathetic wimp to even think about stopping! Onward!

Another thing that helps me keep running is the other people, both the runners and the spectators. The runners for the most part are your standard-looking people in pain, but some of them have gone out of their way to do something unique, like the guy who runs the whole race holding a Green Party sign. You have to admit a Republican or Democratic voter wouldn’t have done that. Then there was the guy dressed as a fancy waiter, in a tuxedo, carrying a tray with a full drink. I only saw him at the beginning so don’t know if he made it the whole way. He passed me though. I also like that a few people, actually they are all women, are wearing white t-shirts with their names on them. It’s ingenious really, because it gives people on the sidelines, who don’t even know them, a chance to shout specific encouragement. I wonder if there’s a certain point where that becomes annoying, like ‘Just let me run in my own private pain,’ but so far it seems to help.

Speaking of the spectators, it’s surprising how excited and encouraging they are. They probably came to cheer on someone they knew, but something happens, you can see it in their faces, they’re kind of amazed, and they start cheering everybody. Many are holding cool signs that say stuff like RUNNERS ARE HOT!! or YOU ARE ALL KENYANS!! Then there are some who go farther than that, like the group of guys dressed in cheerleader outfits, with purple wigs and matching pom-poms. Or the weird girl, who seems on drugs but who is probably like that all the time, standing right in the middle of the oncoming runners picking out people and saying stuff like, “Good job guy with a crew-cut. Good job girl with red shorts. Good job long-haired guy.” (That last is me.) Plus the person in the alien costume holding the sign saying, YOU EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY! At least, I think it’s a person in an alien costume....

And the music. All the bands playing along the course that unfortunately we runners only hear about one minute of. But the fact that they volunteered to come out and play on a Sunday morning, probably for free, is amazing. And it’s all styles: The mariachi band, the traditional Chinese drummers (along with a New Year’s dragon!), Scottish bagpipers, an Elvis impersonator, plus lots o’ rock bands. Even one heavy metal band, who seem a little out of their element, but I catch the lead singer’s eye and give him the devil horn sign to let him know there are some old metalheads in the crowd.

Also let us not forget the volunteers at the drink station who help pass out drinks and offer words of encouragement. There are cub scouts, girl scouts, school groups, church groups, and just tons of individuals standing there holding out plastic cups of water and Gatorade, or orange slices and bananas to anyone stumbling by. If they ever thought it was a thankless job, let me assure them it is not. We may just be too dead to take the time to say thank you. They are so encouraging, and put in so much time and effort, that I would feel guilty for stopping and disappointing them.

But, despite all that, eventually I do start to consider quitting. I had heard about “The Wall” at mile 20, and it’s true, it happens, though my personal Wall seems to be at mile 19 for some reason, perhaps in anticipation of Mile 20. But whatever, it hits me. I think to yourself, ‘Why the hell am I doing this? I don’t need to prove anything. Not to myself and especially not to anybody else. Who cares about some dumb medal at the end?’ My body is in pain, I’m penguin-shuffling along not much faster than a walk, and it seems so easy to do just that, to walk, to walk back to my car and go home and take a nice warm bath. At that point in the race we get into the south side, where there are less people. No more bands, us runners are more spread out, though we’re still a fairly constant stream. Some local people, dressed up for church, have to scurry across the raceway to get to their churches, looking at us like we are crazy. And the race brings us partly up on the highways, where everything is more open and I can see more space, and I just feel more on my own. Which is maybe how it should be somehow. But it’s hard. It’s damn hard. I keep going though, because another part of my brain is rationalizing: “It’s only six more miles, five really. You can run five miles in your sleep. Five miles is nothing! And you have everything to prove to yourself!”

We head back north and enter a long tunnel, which is fitting, because by then I am getting tunnel vision anyways. Here is where I hear maybe the weirdest but coolest music, just one lone guy standing there with his guitar, strumming out a slow minor key tune. I don’t know why, but it seemed the most appropriate somehow, and it gives me some kind of calm energy boost.

Out of the tunnel, we’ve got maybe a mile to go. Other people are different, but I always keep a reserve, and normally, when I know that the end of a run is in sight, I give everything I have left. I’m not sure if I have anything left physically, but mentally I tell myself to go for it, speeding up out of my trudge-shuffle to a regular run, starting to pass people again. The mile markers get more specific. One kilometer to go! A quarter mile! I can see the park now, and stands full of people, there’s music and cheering. This is it! Only a quarter mile? Let’s go out strong!

I try to vaguely sprint, but it’s like my body almost doesn’t know how anymore. My legs will just not lift up. I concentrate on the fact that I can normally always sprint a short distance like that, so I do. I pass rows of bleachers and a roar goes up. For me? Not sure, maybe. It’s for everybody. Whatever, it pumps me even more.
And there’s the finish line!

I cross!

I did it! I’m not even a Christian but Holy Mother of God I did it!

I slow to a walk, but we don’t stop. The crowd is gone and walls on both sides keep us shuttling forward. A man, a doctor or EMT, is standing in the middle of the flood of runners, checking faces for signs of exhaustion maybe, to make sure nobody keels over and/or has a heart attack. Embarrassingly, he stops me and asks me if I’m alright. I say yes, but I realize maybe I’m not: I really just want to lie down on the pavement right there. Surely people would respect that and step over me. But I can’t, we’re still being funneled along, down a narrower chute, which gets backed up even more by race employees on wooden boxes handing out medals to everyone. People surround them, jumping and grabbing for them, it’s kind of embarrassing, so I don’t even take one. This day was for me, I don’t need to show others I did it.

More funneling. A beer stand (Ugh, why would someone want to drink a beer now?) then back out into Grant Park, where the alphabetical meeting areas are, so the people dragging your corpse home can find you. I just want to sit down, but I’m scared if I do that my muscles will tighten and I won’t be able to straighten my legs again. At the same time I’m trembling, hobbling, starting to feel even more pain. Never did I suspect I used so many different muscles in running. My legs, my back, my arms (!?), everything stiff. And all those places where my soaking wet cotton clothes rubbed against my skin for four hours? Raw. Even, Jeezuz God!, my nipples and other embarrassing places! Listen to me now and believe me later guys, lube up before the race! The one surprising thing is that I have no blisters on my feet. They are about the only places on my body that feel alright. How is that possible?


My time is four hours and seven minutes, which is more than fine with me. I’m just happy to have finished. My mom finds me. I was worried she would be bored waiting around for me, but she had a great time walking around with all the people. We walk back to her car and I can see the race from the parking lot still going on: Still a continual line of people showing no sign of stopping. The streets are officially opened up after six hours and there will be people finishing even after then. In a way, I admire those folks more than the crazy Kenyans.

Then home. I can barely get out of the car. All my muscles have now frozen. It’s a painful effort just to step up on the curb, and thankfully there’s an elevator in my mom’s apartment building.

And a long hot bath.

And maybe not the next day, but soon, after my body starts to forget how much pain it has been in, I start thinking about doing it again.