Top 10 Reasons To Continue Running Barefoot

1. Everyone already now thinks you’re crazy, you have nothing to lose.

2. Someone has to show all those people wearing “barefoot shoes” what barefoot running really is.

3. Paying $100 for a pair of shoes still seems like a bad idea.

4. Your feet won’t fit in your old shoes anymore.

5. Shoes would feel like lead weights at this point anyways.

6. Still feels good to pass shod runners in races.

7. Every run is still a new adventure.

8. The question “Doesn’t that hurt?” has now been asked so many times that it’s actually funny at this point.

9. You’ve made at least a few other people’s lives (and knees) better by influencing them (not by preaching, but by modeling) to change to barefoot/minimalist running—maybe you’ll influence some more!

10. The older you get, the more shod runners will stop due to injuries, therefore the higher your ranking will be in race age-group categories.

What are some of your reasons? Share them below!


Check out my other Top Ten Lists:

Ten Reasons NOT To Run Barefoot

Top Ten Reasons To Run Barefoot

Checking in, and the importance of races, and yoga

Hello folks!

I just want to check in and let people know what I'm up to running-wise. I AM still running, I just have not been in any races lately. I continue to not find employment, so my willingness to pay 70-150 dollars for a race is just not high. Note too that since I don't own a vehicle (happily) I would have to get a zipcar for the day, which, while not impossible, adds to the cost of any race, unless it's right out my back door in Forest Park.

I'm not happy with this, but it's the way things will be for a little while. Only a year ago I was going to all kinds of races (see previous posts) and feeling pretty good. Having a race planned just automatically gets one mentally geared to get out the door and run, and if you do them on a regular basis, races become part of your training, rather than just a goal at the end of training. Races also force me (well...motivate me) to run faster while I'm doing them, thereby making me a 'better' runner, though of course the act of running is its own reward.

Still, ever since my burn out training for the Badger 100M (was that only last Spring? Man...) I have been running less. Interestingly, without actually running marathon type distances, I was still in shape physically, and more importantly mentally, to run the Forest Park Marathon this Fall. Another benefit of running marathons on a regular basis: you just KNOW you can do it, and KNOW how it will feel.

So depending on the week, and the weather, I've been running 4-5 times a week, with 1 or 2 2 and 1/2 hour runs up in the hills. Since the gravel fairies have been active in Forest Park, I've tended to wear minimalist footwear for the trail runs, and go barefoot for my pavement runs.

And...I'm ok with this, since my priorities, now, are to do a lot of writing, and search for jobs. I kind of cringe thinking of all the days that running took up while training for a Hundo last Spring. Not that it's a bad thing, and who knows, maybe again someday, but right now, with money running out, I can't justify taking a whole day to run (for example, running a looong run will leave my wiped out and not really up for engaging in any creative work for the rest of the day).

While the job search isn't going so great, my writing has been productive. Please feel free to visit my website, www.johnyohe.com, for links to some published works. If only I could make money at it....

I've also continued to practice yoga this whole year, at Yoga NW in Portland, OR, and it has been a blessing. Note: I get classes in exchange for cleaning the studio. I think without this grounding work I'd probably be freaking out about my life right now.

I have found a balance between yoga and running. The main thing is to not run after a yoga class. That much stretching right before running will result in torn muscles. After a run is great, or alternating days. Yoga is a GREAT way to recover from long runs, and provide some cross-training muscle work. Much better than a gym, though that may be a personality choice.

So, as long as I am doing some activity every day for my body, I am happy. I may have to cut back on yoga this summer, and therefore be more likely to run more, because:

Plan C or D, whatever I'm on now, is that I've been applying for Forest Service/Park Service jobs for next summer, like I used to do. If nothing happens here in Portland, a good summer adventure out in the woods sounds like a good thing. I'll keep you informed. If I know I have a job in the works, I will for sure be more likely to sign up for more races. Let's hope!

I also have ideas for more footwear reviews, including moccasins and huaraches. Interestingly, my reviews are the posts that get the most traffic, though I like writing about races. I will try to get to some reviews!

I'd like to thank folks for reading, and especially for the kind words about the recent incidents with cafes in Portland. Once I have some basic life necessities taken care of, I think there'll be more race reports. In the meantime, again, I am running, and I hope you all are too!

Peace,

John

Here we go again....

Well, that was quick: I've now been asked to leave yet another cafe for taking off my shoes and sitting at a table barefoot. I swear, it just takes one employee who thinks he knows everything, to ruin things. So, I wrote another letter to the owner (below). But man, I mean, I maybe Portland just isn't my town. I swear, I'm just being a quiet writing dude, keeping to myself, not even walking around the place barefoot! I just want to be left alone.

Anyways, here's the letter:

Christine:

I have been a fairly regular customer for about a half a year now, coming in a few times a week, to write and read and generally hang out in a friendly place. I have always appreciated your friendly employees, and how they remember me and my drink. So I was really disappointed about how I was just treated at the 10th Street cafe this evening.

Here's what I was doing: I was sitting at a table, writing. I had slipped my feet out of my shoes in order to tuck my feet up under me and be more comfortable. After and hour and a half of doing this (and I've done this since I've been coming to your cafe), an employee, male, came over and told me, rudely, that I would have to put my shoes back on. His explanation was because of "safety." When I inquired what he meant, he said that there could be broken glass. Again, I was seated at a table, with my shoes right under me. I was not walking around. I informed him that I would watch out for glass. He then said, "Plus there are other people here." I asked him what he meant by that, but he repeated that I would have to put on my shoes for safety, and that there were other people there. I told him I would prefer not to put on my shoes, but he repeated himself again. I asked him if he was kicking me out. He replied that if I did not put on my shoes, then yes.

I was not doing anything wrong. I appreciate that your employees are looking out for my safety, but I can take care of myself. Though I don't think that's really what he was talking about, and I'm not clear exactly what he means by other people being there?

Just to be clear, there's nothing wrong with taking one's shoes off in public. There are no laws, no health codes, nothing like that. I'm sure you know this.

What I would like is an apology for his rudeness, and assurance that if I want to make myself more comfortable in your cafe, I can, just like I've been doing for the last half year.

I would really like to not worry about this, and continue giving you my business. I would like a response.

Thank you,

John Yohe


Update:

Well, I finally received a reply from the owner. She invited me to call her, which I did, with some trepidation. She does seem to be a sincere kind-hearted person, and to really care that her customers have a good experience at her place. That said, I don't think she has all her facts straight (surprise).

The good news is that she did 'give a talking to' the employee who was rude to me, about the 'how' he talked to me, if not the what.

The bad news is she basically used the employee's 'reasoning' to say that she couldn't allow anyone to be barefoot (again, surprise). That is, it was both a safety issue, and a courtesy to other customers.

Supposedly, another customer complained about me being barefoot. The owner wasn't there, so I'm not clear if this was just what the employee in questions told her, or if other employees said this. I kind of have my doubts, since I was, at the time, in a back corner and there wasn't anyone near me. But even then, I questioned why one customers opinion/feelings was more important than mine. She didn't really have an answer to that.

Instead she switched to the 'safety' issue, claiming that there could be broken glass. Then she paused, perhaps realizing that her cafe actually doesn't have any glass, and said that broken ceramics could be a problem too. I again said that I was sitting in a chair, but that didn't seem to matter.

She then claimed that there was a general 'rule' (I think that's the term she used) for all restaurants in the area (what area? I'm not sure. Sounded like she meant Portland). When I asked her if she could provide of copy of this rule, or tell me where to find it, she backed off and invoked the 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' signs “that you see everywhere.” When I told her that those had not basis in fact, and that there was no health code, she backed off and claimed what I take to be this (http://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/hotels_and_restaurants) as her reason, what she called the “innkeepers responsibility,” saying that it was an old “law.” She hadn't read any actual texts though, and just said I could find it on the internet. At least from this source, the emphasis seems to be that a customer has an obligation not to act boisterously (ie cause a scene).

At this point my patience wearing thin, as was her's, and I feared I would start to lose my temper, so, knowing she was being sincere (if misguided) I tried to politely say goodbye. I got the impression that she thought I was crazy to make a big deal out of wanting to take off my shoes in a cafe, which I think misses the point: that I just don't think I was doing anything wrong, and was being treated unfairly, based on ignorance of what is legal or not. What I could have pointed out is this doesn't seem to be about 'safety' at all, but rather the other reason: that my bare feet were causing a 'scene' and/or bothering other customers. I don't think that's true, and again, she wasn't there, and is going (I think) on what this employee said while being chastised. I could have also told her about how people in cafes do things that I don't like all the time (ie talk loudly on cellphones, have strong body odor, bring dogs in) but that I just deal with it. And I would ask her, if I complained to an employee about another customer, if she would be willing to treat them in the same way as I.

But, my heart was already racing, I already knew I was stressed out. Not worth more stress, and, like I told her, I've found other businesses that don't care, and I'm giving them my business. I just wish owners and managers had a better understanding of facts, especially since they seem so concerned with litigation. At least for safety concerns. I wonder what the legal implications are for this type of situation, ie if what they're saying would hold up in court. I wouldn't sue, I don't like lawyers and courts and stuff, but surely they're opening themselves up for something here? Maybe not?

Anyways, basta. Enough. I hate this. I just want to be left alone, and now I'm walking around with my nerves all raw. This is enough to make me re-think my desire for cafe culture, and city life, and instead get a cabin out in the woods and just have a bunch of cats.

Stumptown Smackdown

So I was gobsmacked two days ago when a barista in Stumptown coffee on Third Ave. here in Portland went out of her way to tell me that putting my bare feet up on one of their couches was both a “health code violation” and that I also shouldn't do it “just as a courtesy to other customers.”

This is a place I've been hanging out for over a year, almost daily, for hours, because it's such a great place: Cool eclectic baristas and customers, where loud good music is played, which keeps the cellphone talkers at bay. I'm on a first name basis with some of the employees, and they all know my drink.

As soon as I heard “health code” my jaw tightened, I have a terrible poker face. But, her tone was surprising—kind of talking down to me, snooty. So, I couldn't help but snoot back, and asked her if she could provide me with copies of the 'health codes.' She said yes, flustered, but of course didn't, and backed down, though still saying it was as a courtesy to other customers.

So that just put me in a bad mood. I really like this place, it's a 'place I can trust', where I can do work and enjoy myself. Or, it was.

So, I wrote a letter to the company from the contact page of the Stumptown website:

Hello,

Today, one of your employees at the 3rd Avenue cafe informed me that I am not allowed to take my shoes off when sitting on the couches, because it violates "health codes." When I asked her if I could see a copy of these health codes, she said, "Sure, but it's really because other people sit on those couches." Which, I'm not even sure what that means, but she didn't provide me with a copy. Because there are no health codes. If they are, could you please provide me with a copy? Or send me a link to where I might read them?

I've been a loyal customer, coming almost daily for over a year, and really like everyone that works here, and appreciate that they remember me, and my drink. I was actually really surprised I was singled out, and made to feel like I was committing a crime, by taking off my shoes. In my mind, Stumptown is like a second home, where I can feel comfortable. I suddenly don't feel comfortable.

Please clarify to me and your employees what is going on.

Thank you,

And here is Jason Overby's reply:

[begin quote]

Hey John,

I'm so sorry that you were made to feel uncomfortable at our downtown café. It is not a matter of health code violation by any means. However, as a courtesy to our other customers it is our policy that everyone must wear shoes while in the café. I've spoken with Jeremy who is the manager of the café, and he knows you well and has very kind things to say about you. I hope that you'll continue to spend time with us and feel like you can relax in our space. Could I send you a gift card as a token of our appreciation of your business over the years?



Please send your address to me, and I will get something to you right away.



Thanks and warm regards,



Jason Overby

Stumptown Coffee Roasters

[end quote]


Here's my reply. Please let me know if you think I'm being 'that guy' (ie crazy dude). And/or suggestions/comments.

Begin:

Jason:

Thank you for responding. I think we both agree that there are other things we'd both rather be doing. Still, I don't feel like I've done anything wrong, yet I'm still feeling that you think I'm doing something wrong.

To clarify: When I sit at the couches in the café, I like to tuck my feet up under me, cross-legged, to be more comfortable. I make sure to take off my shoes so as not to get any dirt on the couch. This is what I think of as 'courtesy.' Tucking my feet up on the couch, barefoot, is also what I would do at home on my own couch. It's also what I would do at a friend's house. To me, it's what couches are for: to get comfortable on. This is how I feel (or felt) about Stumptown: that's it's a comfortable place to hang out.

I think though, that by using the word 'courtesy' you are trying to be polite, and actually mean something else. But I don't understand what.

Please keep in mind that 'courtesy' is subjective. There are many things that people do at Stumptown that I think are not courteous, such as:

-Leaving dirty dishes on the tables when leaving
-leaving coffee spills on tables when leaving
-dumping paper on the floors in the bathrooms
-using the bathrooms without being a paying customer
-talking loudly on cellphones
-playing videos/music on electronic media without headphones
-using offensive language
-putting feet in shoes up on the couches

Please note that one of the reasons I like Stumptown is that this stuff happens less than at some other cafes. Also, I'm adult enough that if someone is doing something discourteous, I will ask them to stop. My point is, I don't see how having shoes on while sitting on a couch is a 'courtesy' to anyone, or is discourteous.

This situation is silly, and I'm sure you feel the same way, though perhaps for different reasons. Still, where does this go, logically? Is there a 'proper' way to sit on a couch? Is putting your shod feet on a couch ok? Are hands ok? What about babies? Can they, like I've seen, crawl on the couches without shoes? What about transients who haven't bathed or washed their clothes in a while? Are they even allowed to sit down at all?

Please understand that I don't have a problem with any of those situations, nor do I think most of your customers.

What I would like is to be able to continue to come to Stumptown and not made to feel like I'm breaking the law, and/or like 'that guy' for defending myself, which is how I feel now.

Thank you,

John Yohe


And his reply (surprise):

Hey John,

I understand where you're coming from, but this is a rule that we have to apply consistently to be fair to everyone. Again, I hope you continue to give us your business, but this is a general requirement in all of our cafés.

Best,

-J


And....my reply back:


Jason:

I'm disappointed, for a few reasons. One, you haven't seemed to be listening to me in this whole exchange. Two, you haven't explained exactly what this 'rule' is, nor what you mean by 'a courtesy to other customers.' In fact, I'm left feeling that I haven't been treated with courtesy, by you or the Stumptown employee.

If I understand you (which I don't really, because you haven't explained yourself very well, or at all) sitting on the couch with shoes is ok (no matter, apparently, how dirty) while sitting on the couch in bare feet (in part, so as not to get dirt on the couch, but also to be more comfortable) is not ok.

I'm also not clear when/how/why this 'rule' was made, since, as I said, I've been going there for a year, almost daily, with no problem from anyone, including the employee who said something (again, rudely) this past week. No one else besides her, and you, seem to have a problem with what I've done.

I could speculate about the real reasons, but you have not been honest nor helpful in your emails to me, so I won't know for sure, though I suspect because you know that this 'rule' has no logical/legal basis.

I'm surprised that something like this could happen in Portland, of all places. I really enjoyed Stumptown Coffee, especially the people who work there, and I think the feeling was mutual. Except, I guess, this one employee. Nor did I ever get the impression that I ever offended any customers with the horrible offense of putting my bare feet on a couch.

I will take my business somewhere else, and I will be sure to share how you've treated me with everyone I know here in Portland.

John Yohe


Enough, craziness! Ya basta!


Just got this from the actual manager of the place (no relation to Jason, I think), which is interesting because he says he's a barefoot runner! I still don't think he understands what was going on, though he's surely seen me, and I've talked to him before. I just don't know if it's worth replying to him or not.

Hi John,

I manage the cafe. I am the tall thin guy with glasses. I am also a barefoot runner, trail runner and secret distance lover. Last week, I just did my first 15 miles barefoot on trail!

It is never easy to approach anyone with concerns, complaints and confrontations. Right or wrong..? I cannot make that judgement. I am sorry all this happened. I wear my Bedrock Sandals on my runs into work and put on boots while working. Unfortunately, as a barefoot health believer, I have to wear closed-toed shoes while serving and working behind the bar. It is required by the health department while serving food to have close-toed shoes. Moreover, I would bump, knock and destroy my strong lovely feet while working. The cafe also encourages customers to have shirts, bottoms and shoes on while in the cafe. It just is the case.

It is apparent you want to argue about why, and publicly tarnish the cafe I love and work in daily. And do this in a small community that I am part of. Ouch. You desire documented reasoning. My apologies, I do not have that for you. My employee's reasoning was incorrect, and she felt uncomfortable about the whole thing. Jason and I felt bad that this happened because I recognized that it was you who was singled out and I had a sneaking suspicion that you were a barefoot runner. From one barefoot runner to another, I have seen tons of glass broken on that carpet, and the cafe floor almost daily. Our professional carpet cleaner cannot guarantee that the carpet is hazard free. Don't hurt those feet! I am sure you have worked hard for them.

Again, I am sorry you felt singled out and sorry that this has spiraled downward. I am saddened and hurt.

Have a good run, man.
J.

--
Jeremy Robillard
Downtown Cafe Manager
Stumptown Coffee PDX


My reply to Jeremy (note, this is after his note in the comments section below):

Jeremy:

First, I am sorry have posted you personal phone number online. I thought it was the Stumptown number, since it was under your job title. I have taken it down.

Second, thank you for admitting that you do not have “documented reasoning,” though this leaves me wondering why you still seem to be implying that I did something wrong. To review:

-There are no health codes cantaining anything about bare feet. There are no health codes.
-The Multnomah County Health Department is more for things like medical and mental health services. If you can find anything about bare feet, please provide me with a link.
-The 'rules' you are talking about are actually OSHA guidelines, which are only for employees.
-I've seen you actually on the job, walking behind the counter, in your huaraches, and it was fine, nobody freaked out.

I'd like to clarify: we are talking about me putting my bare feet up on the couch, correct? That is was Sarah said to me, and that is what I stated to Jason. If we are talking about something else, please let me know. I'm willing to go there, but my complaint to Jason was about Sarah's complaint about me sitting with my bare feet on the couch.

As for glass, I'll take your word that broken glass happens there, but please give me the benefit of the doubt that I can see it. Anyways, I don't think you are proposing that there might be broken glass on the couch? This is what makes me think you actually mean something else besides sitting on a couch?

By “tarnish” Stumptown's reputation, you seem to be implying that I have been lying, and or changing facts. I haven't. I've been posting your and Jason's exact words.

As for the other things you said in the comments section on my blog, if you think I've insulted your intelligence, please imagine how I feel, since neither you nor Jason seem to be addressing my concerns, nor even really listening to me. As for your love of running, I have no doubt of it, nor of your love of coffee. I don't know how you got that impression, though I am sort of puzzled, you being a barefoot/minimalist runner, how you could feel that bare feet on a couch are not “courteous,” though again, I do not know exactly what you or Jason mean by that.

As a barefoot/minimalist runner, you might try visiting the Barefoot Runners Society website:
www.thebarefootrunners.org.

There's lots of information about running, health, and yes, legal matters.

Just to summarize: No documentation. No definition/explanation of “courtesy to other customers.” No evidence (presented to me anyways) that anyone other than Sarah and Jason and you care about me putting bare feet on a couch. And yet, you were all rude to me when I complained and defended myself. I would say Stumptown's reputation rests on your actions, not mine.

And yes, I will tell others about my treatment. If a company was rude and dishonest with you, wouldn't you do the same?

And now, in my best British accent, I say, “Good day, Sir.”

John

Run Like Hell (unless there's a train) Half-Marathon 2013

Chilly foggy morning here in Portland. Weather forecast is for a sunny day, which the race organizers were eager to share, but I don't think things will clear up until later, so I'm glad I opted for some layers for this half marathon, as have most of the other few hundred folks here. Though I am, of course, barefoot!

This is my second Run Like Hell half. I've been in Portland over a year now! How strange! This race is a costumed one, being close to Halloween, and this year's them is 'fantasy,' though I don't see much D&D costumes: Some unicorns (or...narwals?), and a whole mess of fairies, but also a lot of superheros. I guess dressing up in armor just isn't conducive to running? But my favorites are two women who have dressed up as zombies—their t-shirts sporting blood and white feathers, with these words on the back: POWERED BY tasty UNICORN. Well, I guess that counts as a paleo diet.

And no, I have no costume. I know, I know, I should have some fun, but I'm too introverted. Maybe if I were running with friends, but the only folks I know are running later in the 10K. My bare feet seem to be doing the job of a costume though: I'm getting some gawking.

The countdown to the start begins with the playing of Pink Floyd' (shiny happy) song “Run Like Hell.” And then we're off! heading north, up into the 'Pearl' district, the streets mostly empty at eight in the morning, though a nice rock band playing on Naito Parkway as we head south. I'm sure the neighbors love that! And past all the homeless people back in the downtown section.

Although this is 'only' a half-marathon, I'm thinking I'm not going to PR today. After my burnout from training for that ultra last Spring, I've cut back on the running, not doing any long runs (meaning nothing past 2-2.5 hours) all summer, except for one marathon, and I haven't indulged in a ton of races this Fall like I did last year, due mostly to lack of money more than anything. Which meant I had to pas on the Portland marathon two weeks ago, which I wasn't happy about. Run Like Hell didn't sell out, and I wonder if the marathon folks have stayed home for this one, still recovering.

But, because of not so many races run, the thing I'm worried about most is whether my soles will be up for this or not. Portland just has some really rough pavement, so I'm running on paint lines wherever possible, for their smoothness. Strangely, I guess, I'm getting lots of folks behind me with the comments like, “Hey, that guy's barefoot!” or “Oh my god, that guy doesn't have any shoes!” Which I thought we were all past at this point? That is, I don't hear any, “There's a barefoot runner!” comments. These people all seem to be surprised at a barefoot runner. Also, I don't see many minimalist runners, just one guy in VFFs. Theory: these are all the less-hardcore runners, those that didn't to the Portland Marathon and Half two weeks ago. But, I don't know.

Anyways, a couple people do actually speak to me, though in the passive-agressive kind of way:

“Hey, doesn't that hurt?”

“No.”

“Didn't you have to get used to it though?”

“No.”

(End of 'discussion').

And a woman as I pass her: “Aren't your feet cold?”

Me: No. (Though the rest of me is!)

I don't know, maybe I'm too self-conscious? But they're asking me yes/no questions? Am I expected to spout off? But then I'd be some barefoot zealot? Seems like I can't win. I just wish someone would ask in a more friendly manner, but in any case, it's kind of hard to have convo at half-marathon pace, especially when I'm trying to concentrate on finding nice paint lines to run on.

And to avoid people: Some buy adjusting one of the timer pad thingies is right in the middle of the lane, backing up, looking scared at the massed of people flying at him and even though I swear he looks right at me, he backs up into my path, causing me to swerve (“Dude! Dude!”) to the left near the shoulder where, ahh!, broken glass is scattered about. I hop/skip over it, concentrating very very carefully. With success. But, thus the reason I may not want to talk a lot!

A long gradual uphill has begun—the pack stretches and thins out. I'm feeling ok. Not pushing myself as hard as I maybe could, but the feets are feeling a wee bit tender. I seem to have lost my summer hobbit feet. But, I'm at least mid-pack. And yikes! One guy running right at the edge of the lane almost gets his elbow clipped from a city bus coming up behind him! That was close!

Still foggy, we head up into the foothills below OHSU, now on the sidewalk/bikepath, which is nice and smooth, though coming down (downhill from here!) at the halfway point, we're back on rough pavement, so I actually am running out on a bikepath white line, right next to oncoming traffic, though there isn't much at this hour. But yes, check my watch: About 55 minutes at about 6.5 miles. Hm, that's kinda slow for me, actually. Well, can I run a faster second half with the downhill? But suddenly I'm worried about just getting respectfully under two hours!

Barefoot still seems conducive to downhill running though, as I'm now passing a lot of shodders. I'm just trying to let gravity do most of the work, picking up the feets as fast as I can. Doesn't add to the aerobic workout any, though I must say at this point I'm nice and sweaty.

Back down to Naito Parkway, heading north. We pass the downtown section and I look west up the side streets, looking for runners heading back south on their way to the finish, but don't see any? But we're getting near the end? Surely we should be turning around at some point? It's Mile 11-ish!

But, oh: As I come around a bend near where the train tracks cross Naito, there's an actual train stopped right across the road, with about a hundred runners waiting. Uh oh....

The race officials had assured us that there wasn't supposed to be any trains scheduled during the race, but in listening into conversations, and from barely-audible announcements from the poor police officer who lucked out on this place to be stationed, there's been some kind of emergency, that some alarm went off ass the train was heading in, an alarm about something on the track. So, by law, the train has to stop, and by law, human beings have to come and physically 'walk the line' to check. When I get there, I hear one man say he was one of the first runners to be stopped, and that he'd been waiting twenty minutes already. Ten minutes after I arrive, the train dudes actually arrive. Surely, I think, Surely this won't take long.

But it does: We wait at least a half hour there. Some brave souls climb over the train, until the cop and train dudes stop them. Eventually, another large group of runners breaks off and just runs west to where the route comes back south. Many of us wait, because we know there's a chip timer pad thingie on the other side that we need to run over in order to keep out time official. Though, it's cold. I'm covered in sweat. My clothes are soaked with sweat. My muscles are tightening up. Just saying 'F-it' becomes more tempting. I mean, I already knew I wasn't going to PR, so do I really care?

Thing is, the last three races I've run that have come by this point, four maybe actually, have ALL been stopped by a train. I'm not saying the race organizers are to blame for a train emergency, but surely, by now, they could maybe find a better route? One that doesn't cross train tracks?

Finally, something happens, and the train starts to move. We all cheer (there's still a couple hundred runners backed up here, even with the ones that left). And....then we wait. The train is going very slooowwwly. And it's looooonnnngg. This is ridiculous. Well, we all started together, looks like we'll all finish together.

Finally, finally, the train passes, and we surge forward, and aaarrgh! My muscles are tightened up! I can barely run! I mean, I kinda sorta get things moving again, by the turn around, but there's only a mile to go! Craziness. And the course is now congested again, so I'm trying to whip and dip around packs of fairies, to do some kind of semblance of a strong finish.

And there is the finish. And I finish. And....meh. I'm not even that thirsty. Main priority: get my gear bag and change into dry clothes! Then some veggie chili. And, since the only people I know all ran in the 10K, which finished like, over an hour ago by now, I just head out. I'm not feeling exhausted, just still tightened up. The main surprise is how tender and raw my soles feel, making me wonder just how they would have done in the Portland Marathon! I might have been hurting!

Finish time (maybe): 1:52

[note: sorry, no pics! I did take some, but can't seem to get them to open]

Hood 2 Coast 2013: Team BRS

I remember thinking after last year's Hood2Coast that I wasn't even sure I wanted to do another one. And yet, then as the idea of a Barefoot Running Society team grew, I grew more excited. Et voilà, here we are, thanks for some awesome organizers to get us signed up, and lined up: Jen for doing all the paperwork, and Christy for advice and logistics and generally knowing what she's doing (because the rest of us certainly don't).

Turns out Christy and I are the only ones who have run H2C before, and I'm just a 'snookie', a second year rookie. Christy has done it like, five times already, and is in Van 2, where she will finally get to be runner 12, and finish the whole thing for us over in Seaside tomorrow. So, that means I'm the only one in Van 1 who's run this thing, and knows anything, and, god help us all, people might be looking to me for guidance.

The race starts up on Mt. Hood, at the famous Timberline Lodge, with Mt. Hood looming above us, and views out into the valleys around us. Wierd to think that tomorrow we'll be at the Coast, at the ocean. But, anyways, the chaos is already in full swing by the time us Van 1 folks arrive. We're scheduled to start at 11:15, but teams have been starting since 6:30 I believe. None of us are sure if the slowest teams start earlier, so as to have everyone arrive at Seaside at the same time (ish) or if some of the mondo in-shape teams (like Nike and Adidas) start early so as to avoid having to deal with us amateur peons. Anyways, it's a lot of people. Some teams have even had both vans come up to the start, though that's kind of discouraged by the organizers because of space concerns. But, I have to say that there's kind of a psychological difference actually being here on Mt. Hood, rather than how my team did it last year, with Van 2 just arriving in Sandy at the Safeway. This feels more begin-y-y.

I sign the team in, barely, having no idea what I'm doing. Note: one must show up to the sign in desk with at least one safety vest, two flashing lights, and two main light sources (headlamps or flashlights) and they make you turn on all the lights to make sure they work. After that, a state trooper makes me sign a safety waiver (which I didn't bring, but he has extras) saying that everyone on the team has read it. Which I say is true (and it is, I think). The third desk gives me our little wristband thingy that runners pass off to each other, and a timing chip, which only needs to be worn by runner 12 on the third leg at the end.

A big change, which I support, this year is that teams/vans do not have to keep track of individual times. Nor do we have to keep a running stopwatch time. None of that. Instead, each time already has a designated start time, and the timing chip is apparently already running, so we just register the end time. I think this will make things much easier, though I can see some teams still have all their clipboards with charts and whatever. I think that aspect appeals to certain personality types, but thank goodness we don't have to do that because nobody in this van seems like that type.

The weather is great! Sunny up here, and cool. We've heard rumors of rain on the coast tomorrow morning, but we'll see.

Our runner 1 is Erica, the only female in our van of dudes (poor girl). And (oh the shame) she's wearing regular shoes, whereas the rest of the van is either walking around barefoot or in huaraches. Teams leave/start at fifteen minute intervals, and there's an announcer announcing the team names as they line up. My favorite name: We Eat Between The Legs. And though each team usually gets a cheer, when he yells out, “The Barefoot Running Society!”: crickets chirping almost. Just us five guys yelling, everyone else looking at us like, 'What the hell are these weirdos doing here?' It's like the announcer just said something in Japanese or something.

Anyway, at 11:15 exactly, Erica's wave is released. Run Erica run! Her leg is all downhill, and some people are just out of the gate at a sprint, which makes my knees hurt just thinking about it. But yes! We have begun! Now it's time to get in the van!

Actually, our van is a big ole black SUV. Looks like something a Mexican drug cartel would drive around in, but it's roomy, with room in the way back for bags. And this year I'm one of the designated drivers, which I'm loving, if only because I tend to get carsick. But I also just like to be busy/engaged and useful. I'm hoping this year the exchanges will go smoother. Last year they were all backed up, so that we basically spent the whole time sitting in the van, and even had to have runners get out of the van and run up to the exchange points because we just couldn't get there in time.

But so far so good. We zoom down the hill to the first exchange, right on the edge of 26. Easy park, with time to get out and walk around and people watch and watch the runners go by. Daniel is runner 2, and though he's not dressed as a Hawaiian hula girl this time, he is going barefoot. Weird weather here: there's an inversion layer, or else just a regular cloud here, so that it's overcast and grey and slightly misty. But again, good running weather.

And here comes Erica! The hand off goes smoothly. She's faster than her predicted time, which will be the case for all of us on this first legs, but I'm sure it will even out in the next two legs, as darkness and exhaustion set in. Technically, H2C isn't a speed race. The goal is to arrive at the Finish at the predicted time, based on each runners race speed that they entered online earlier, though that may not be accurate, since, for example, I entered my time for a trail marathon, versus a 10K speed. Supposedly, if a team finishes within a half hour on either side of their predicted time, they 'win' an automatic slot in next year's H2C. It's really an exercise in teamwork, I think.

Anyways, we jump in the SUV and head down 26 to the next station. Again, easy park, plenty of time to get ready. I hope things continue this way the whole way! Daniel passes off to Pat, a new person, to me, who isn't a member of the BRS site, nor the local Portland BRS FB group, yet. He's in VFFs, and seems a cool dude to have along: quiet and easy going and up for anything. That's the thing about H2C, six people just get thrown in a van for two days, some without knowing each other. Last year I just joined at random team two days before the start, but this year I do know at least half the team, if only through the Portland BRS FB page. But some I've run races with already.

At the next station the cloud/inversion is breaking up, for some sun. Rick is up. He's driven over from Utah to do this, part of a longer road trip he and his wife are taking. But he's a cool guy. Super mellow, and an ultra runner. In fact, he says I inspired him with some of my write ups of ultra races, and he wants me to come run a Hundo in Utah. We'll see, but anyways, a pleasure to have him along. And he too is going pure barefoot. Yes! Nice to be a in a group of like-minded folks, even if everyone else is looking at us weird. We've seen a couple other VFFs runners, and one barefoot woman, though she was holding her VFFs and limping, so who knows.

Stations switches are just going way smooth, thank goodness. And, I'm up! My first leg length is five miles, plus come change. And Rick comes in at a good clip, slapping the wrist band onto me. I'm off! Still on Highway 26, running on the right side of the road, with four lanes of traffic and no cones or barriers or anything, though usually the nearest lane is taken up by slow moving chase vans. Usually. Still kinda....loud, with weekend traffic going in and out of Portland. No other time would I be running down a highway like this. The pavement is fairly smooth here, for the first few miles, then turns off on a side road, and gets kind o' rough and gritty. But, grr, grin and bear it. Btw, I'm getting passed, becoming 'roadkill', by a lot of runners. In fact, I don't pass anyone, making me feel very very slooow. I think I would be running a little faster over this rough section is I had some huaraches, but again, this isn't supposed to be a speed race.

But, nice to have encouragement from other vans—the barefootedness getting some comments. One van full of nice folks, while they're waiting for their runner, turn up the music and form a 'power tunnel' for other runners, making two rows and joining their hands to run under while they yell. Extroverted people can be good to have around in times like these.

I'm not wearing a watch or GPS or anything, just trying to enjoy the run, but can't help wondering after a while, like, how far am I? How much further? But there are race volunteers stationed along the road at intervals, who let us runners know. And soon, there's the next station, with Janson waiting to go in VFFs and a kilt. I slap the wristband on him and he's off. Whew! Alright, one leg down! Time to head to the exchange, where Van 2 will take over for a while.

In the meantime, with time to kill, we head to Erica's house in Sellwood, near-ish to the exchange at Oaks Park. This is the advantage of Van 1: a few hours off right around dinner time. So, why not treat ourselves to a good dinner? Nice to be with a group of folks that's up for that. We go to a Thai place, and I can't help but kind of laugh at our sheer indulgence whilst Van 2 is running in the hot sun.

An email update was sent out to race participants saying that the Oaks Park parking lot is/was full, but when we get there, it's fine. Traffic seems a little backed up getting out, which worries me (because I'm a worrier) but it's not all H2C traffic. The Park is in full swing and I think the roller derby women are playing tonight too, and anyways, after waiting around some more, traffic clears right up. And as darkness descends, we greet Christy coming in and send off Erica for her second leg. Erica btw seems to be getting the best legs with views, since she'll get to run along the river and see Portland lit up, though first she has to run through the now dark Springwater Corridor, where many homeless people camp out. Hopefully they'll be a lot of runners on the trail, and homeless people are mostly harmless. Cue Newt from Aliens: Mostly....

Anyways, onward! We're up again, and I surprise myself by actually coming up with an alternate route to the next station. Yes, I've lived here a year now, so know that rather than driving up the east side of the river, we can scoot across the Sellwood Bridge and head north with almost no traffic at all. And, driving up Naito Parkway, we have a view of the riverfront, but for a while there seems to be no runners and I wonder if we read the directions wrong. I guess it's that there's no people at all out here by dark, but there's a blinking light or two, so there are runners, they're just all spread out. Aaaannnnd, we're just in time to get caught at the train tracks by a train, where even the runners have to wait, amassing a group of twenty or so before the train passes.

Up into the industrial NW section of Portland. Train cars and warehouses, but again the station is an easy in/easy out. Amazingly different than last year. Erica comes in from her 7 mile-ish leg and hands off to Daniel, who impresses the hell out of me by still running barefoot, in the dark, in the industrial area, on the four lane Highway 30. True, the road is lit up, but still seems hard to see grit and stuff.

Again, we're back to four lanes of traffic, but mostly the H2C vans hug the inside lane and go slower, so not as potentially scary for runners. Just a weird sight though, seeing the string of runners with blinking lights on running next to all this traffic and through some kind of post-apocalyptic setting. Death Race 2000!

Farther up 30, Daniel hands off to Pat, who then hands off to Rick as we get into what I think is the town of St. Helens. Rick also is going barefoot for this leg. Dammit. That means, as a real man, I'm obligated to be as badass as them. Well, the streets are lit up here, and there's even a sidewalk, so might actually be doable. But, after Rick hands off to me, I'm immediately shunted over to the other side of the highway, facing traffic, so if a car hits me I can actually see it first, aaannnnd, I'm out of town, meaning no more lights. And no sidewalk. Just me and my headlamp. But, so, ok, I can do this. Yes, the shoulder of the highway is gritty. Less so right by the first lane, and in fact I take to running in the first lane, Which by this point in the night is doable, since traffic is lighter, and the cars that are out are staying in the middle lane, well aware by now of the crazies out on the road. Probably annoyed with us for shining our headlamps right at them.

And yeah, once again getting passed. Can't blame the grit too much, I feel like I'm running faster than I would on my own, though certainly sitting in the SUV all day after running hasn't helped. Glad we had Thai and not pizza though, otherwise I'd probably be puking. But, man, just a weird unique experience, running along a highway at night. I do get into another little town, not sure of the name, but big enough to have some sidewalks, which are smoother, but perhaps just as gritty, since I doubt anyone actually walks on them here. And, this might have happened even the daylight, but every once in a while I just just come down hard, on one of my sensitive parts (because I'm a sensitive guy) like the heel or ball of foot, on a big ole grit-pebble-thingy. So yeah, ouch.

Aaaannnd, a little rain. A light misting, not unpleasant, though enough to get my BRS shirt damp, which I'll need to wear tomorrow at the finish, for the group photo.

Interesting dynamics. In a marathon, you'll see people kinda pair up, or bunch up, and chat as they run. Not here. I guess because the pace is faster, in the same way people don't really talk to each other in a 10K. So, kinda on my lonesome, even if this is a seven mile leg, seeing the blinking red lights in the distance, until overtaken by pounding shod person, most of whom give a friendly 'good job' as they pass me. And the route takes a left, into the sleepy town, and then zags around into a high school parking lot for the next station. No strong finish: the parking lot is all cracked and gravelly. But hey! I didn't step on any hidden glass!

Onward onward onward! The route now off of Highway 30 and into the backwoods of Portland. Janson will still be on pavement, but starting to hit the hills, and Van 2 will get the gravel road legs later. In the meantime, we head to the fairgrounds for the van exchange. And for sleep. And, thanks to my experience last year, I know exactly where the best sleeping area is: along the side of the parking lot, between it and the actually fairgrounds, there's a row of ponderosa pines, which offer a nice soft needle-y area, and some protection from car lights. So, again the advantage of Van 1. We get to sleep at 2, and sleep until 6, a comparatively 'regular' sleep time, whereas Van 2 maybe got a couple hours before we got there, and won't get a chance for a longer sleep until into the morning. And btw, kudos to Rick, who's thinking ahead, and just being a generally nice guy, for offering to stay up later to great Janson in and make sure the handoff goes ok, while the rest of us crash. He and Janson don't get to sleep until 3.

And, I actually do sleep, despite the car alarms going off, and the car doors slamming, and the loud (exclusively male) voices talking and talking sometimes only twenty feet away. You'd think that people would be more mindful of noise, but who knows, they may not even know about us sleepers over here.

And in the morning, when my alarm goes off, I actually feel like I got some sleep. Feels like my old firefighting days, waking up in fire camp in the woods. But man, what a difference: What had been a packed parking lot last night is now almost empty, just about twenty vans still here. Where is everybody? Surely we're not one of the later groups? But as we wake up and get on the road, arriving at the next van exchange, I see that some groups just skipped the fairgrounds and drove out here before going to sleep. Something to consider next year, though, I'm not sure there's that much of an advantage, since the designated sleeping areas are still right next to the parking lots. The ideal would be to find a state or county park and sleep on the grass or in the woods. Surely those places must exist around here. But anyways, we're ready to go. We meet up with Van 2 and Erica is off on her third leg. Btw, if one is looking for the best legs to get during a race, runner 1 and runner 6 (and/or runner 7 and 12), but especially runner 1, seem to have the advantage of going first, getting their leg out of the way, and then being able to to just crash out in the back of the van for hours, knowing they won't have to do anything.

This exchange has been the only place where the vans have been backed up on the road to get in, and even then it's not that bad. The Honey Bucket lines are now long though, so a few times our runners have jumped out early to be able to get in line, though Erica points out that one has only to say to people that you're about to run and they'll let you cut in early, but it seems to only be women who do this.

Daniel and Rick both go barefoot again, lucking out with some relatively smooth pavement. My feet are already feeling raw from the previous runs, no lie, but no way am I going to get out barefooted on this thing. My last leg is 'only' five miles, but it's a lot of uphill. Fortunately shady, so not going to be too hot. If I weren't competing to be most macho, I might have carried my huaraches just in case, but no, I'm all in, should be ok, like running the last five miles of a marathon, right? But, so, as soon as I start, the road gets a little rough. Then smooth. Then rough. Then kinda just stays rough. Not gritty, but old and cracked and having that unique Oregon pavement that is just rough, so that even running on the white line in the middle doesn't really help. Fortunately not too much oncoming traffic, except for a couple of cars who seem to really not appreciate our presence out here, because, with both lanes clear, they stay in their lane and go right by me. One guy in a pickup even blatantly points his truck at me, wanting to make me get off the road and onto the shoulder I guess, but when I don't (I'm not jumping into that gravel, dude) he only veers off at the last second. So: asshole!

But on the other hand, other vans are cheering and honking us runners as the pass, and some especially are cheering me on as a barefooter. Our van doesn't do this, worried about time really, but some vans will stop halfway through the leg to cheer on their runners, and while waiting cheer on other runners, which is nice, especially this one van that we've been paralleling the whole race, which is an all women, really all amazon, ultra crew—doing the whole distance with only 8 runners. I'm not sure how it works exactly, how the legs are divided up, but they're certainly easy on the eyes, if a little scarily enthusiastic and energetic for this late in the race. But, maybe the secret of being energetic is acting energetic first, then your body will catch up?

And two people even hold a scarf between them at the top of the hill, as a 'ribbon' to run through, for any runner that wants to partake. So, that's a nice friendly funny gesture.

Speaking of women, as I peak up over the hill and begin my descent, a van of women slows down and cheers, whooping and holding out cameras, and I'm like, yes! Finally I'm attractive to women, because they think barefoot running is hardcore or something. But no, a guy passes me and they call out his name. I laugh and yell after him, “Aw, I thought they were cheering me!”

He laughs and says, “They're cheering everybody!” Which, you know, is nice and true, but not as cool as a van full of women hooting for you. Sigh....

I did finally pass two people on the uphill, but continue to get passed by others. Nice to be out in the woods and off the highway. One of the people I pass, a woman, is actually stopping at lot and taking pictures. She tells me, “I might as well have fun out here. My IT band is killing me.”
But there's Janson! I pass off the wristband et voilà, fini! I've done my part! We head to the last exchange and miraculously part right in front of Van 2. I get out to let them know we're here (no phone service out here) and Christy is sitting in the front seat. I tell her when Janson's due in and she says, “You better tell the others, I can't walk.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“I hurt my foot. And it's your fault.”

The thing with Christy is I can never tell if she's entirely joking. I think what she's referencing is the fact that we were both on the same H2C team last year, by complete coincidence, and she had been wanting to try barefoot running, and had been 'inspired' by me, so has been trying to run barefoot for the past year, though plagued by injuries. Thus, my fault.

Anyways, Janson passes off to Seret, and bam, Van 1 is done! Nothing to do be head to Seaside and wait. With hours to go, we indulge in yet another wonderful meal, and disperse for a while. I join up with my sister and her family up the beach. And the weather is amazing. No rain. In fact, sunny, and the water is actually bearable, so I go out and splash in the waves. Refreshing, and a good way to wake up and get rid of the lack-of-sleep grogginess, since I'll be driving the SUV back to Portland tonight.

We meet back up at the festivity site, where runners have been coming in since early morning, which is kinda amazing to think about. Hundreds of teams hanging out, some already done, some, like use, waiting for their last runner to come in.

Van 2 gets here, none of them wearing their BRS shirts, when it was Christy who emphatically told everyone to wear them. But, speaking of Christy, they inform us that Christy is in bad shape, her foot really bothering her, and that she'll be coming in a half hour later than expected. In fact, she actually texts Chris (who has been volunteering here but has joined us) and requests some help, so he runs off to help her in. I mean, this is bad: she's in danger of not finishing, and probably should have not kept running, which makes me a little annoyed. Not that I care about our time or anything, just that I get annoyed/mad when people don't take care of themselves. Except that, knowing that this is Christy's sixth H2C, and she finally has the chance to be the final runner—I would probably do the same thing.

And so, she basically leans on Chris' should all the way down the boardwalk and almost just hops on one leg over the finish, almost crying. And collapses in the sand. We're all in the chute now: The runner goes over the first, real, Finish, where the team joins her, and then there's supposed to be a 'group run' of a hundred feet or so over the sand, to another Finish, so that our picture can be taken running as a group. Then into a corral to get into one of the group picture taking areas. So, everyone in our group is standing around going, shit, how do we get her to the First Aid station?! Not helped by the guy in charge of getting groups through the chute, who has to butt in and offer his two-bit advice. But another worker goes to get a paramedic to come to us, so we all cluster off to the side. Interestingly, the group right behind us also stops, their final runner collapsing too, though seems to be from exhaustion/dehydration/heatstroke. Other groups go by us, all smiling and happy to be done, until they see Christy, then their eyes go wide.

An EMT finally comes, but all he can really do it tape up her foot and ankle. So Thomas, from Van 2 carries her to the photo op stage. We get a quick photo taken, which I'm not sure anyone is going to buy a copy of, all of us not looking too happy, worried about Christy (which she probably hates). Fortunately her parents are here volunteering, waiting for us, so we can pass her off to them and they can take her to the hospital for x-rays.

So, a kind of bummer at the end. But, we did it! The first barefoot H2C team ever! With three of us going completely barefoot for all three legs, and most every one at least going minimalist, except a certain someone (Erica, cough cough). Amazing that we pulled it off! And yet, it was mostly fine. Thanks again to Jen for signing us up and organizing all the behind the scenes stuff. And for Christy offering her years of experience and logical organizational skills. Also, our sponsor: Soft Star Shoes! They kicked in $500.

My dream now? Two Barefoot Running Society teams! BRS A and BRS B! Maybe one of them an ultra team??

Wildwood Marathon

This is going to be an interesting test. Since stopping my ultra training about three months ago, I haven’t really run any ‘long’ runs. My training for this marathon consisted of, “Oh s**t, I’m running a marathon in three weeks, I guess I better up my mileage, at least.’ And so I did: doing a wee bit more of my ten mile loop, plus adding some ‘doubles’ (running twice in one day). Plus, though I ‘tapered’ this week, I went up to Seattle to visit a friend and of course walked all over the place talking and trying to solve the world’s problems. In fact, I just got in yesterday evening. Good thing this race is so low-key that the packet pickup/registration is just before the race.

I do have some advantages, maybe. One being that I’ve run a bunch o’ marathons now, so have the ‘mental’ edge. As in, I know I can run them, with various degrees of hurt after. Also, I have the home court advantage: this is in Forest Park, my stomping grounds here in Portland, where I do the majority of my runs. I love being able to walk out my door to the start.

There has been a last minute change though: We were supposed to start down in Lower Macleay Park, a nice big open grassy area, but apparently the Forest Park trail crew is doing trail work up in there, and no one bothered to tell anyone else. So, we’re nearby, but at this small little trailhead up in the residential area, with no parking, so they had to hire some shuttle busses to get folks up, and it’s kind of a cluster, with people registering for the half-marathon and 10K, while us ‘real men’ (and women) doing the full wait around.

Not sure how many are doing the full. I seem to remember 150 was the cap, but doesn’t seem like that much here, now. But anyways, the weather here is nice. Perfect almost: Cool enough to be a little cold with just a t-shirt and shorts. Will heat up later, but in Forest Park, one is basically in the shade all the time. I don’t really know the route, but when a woman (one of those Marathon Maniacs) explains it, it confirms that the route I was running out here for the ultra training was WAY more than 26 miles.

We line up, and this is kinda crazy: We are starting out going uphill. Like, a pretty good incline. Macleay Park would have given us a little warm up before a hill. Here, when the organizer dude says go, it’s just up a gravelly trail, which I (and I suspect everyone else if they were alone) would walk up, but since we’re all gung-ho to run a marathon, we all start out at a trot. Ugh. This first bit is and ‘out and back’, more like an ‘up and down’ that gets us the ‘.2’ of the marathon (and maybe a little more) out of the way. But, the hill definitely separates the men from the boys, or the adults from the children. I take my time, staying in back, trying to hold on to some kind of sanity, walking even. The race leaders come barreling down, all young and no body fat, and on my way down, I do the same, using one of the few advantages I have as a barefoot/minimalist runner: the ability to use gravity and maintain a (relatively) light touch, though with these Luna Leadvilles I fear I’m slamming the joints just like a shod person. I may regret this later on, but for now, it catapults me past many of the gung-ho hillrunners. And gets me going at a pretty fast pace even on the flat areas, which, again, I may regret, but that’s why I do these races: to get me to run faster than I would alone. By myself, I trot. I don’t get into the fancy watches and paces, just kinda meditating and enjoying the scenery. Which is why I never get down below four hours on a paved marathon, when I probably could.

No, if I could, if I could afford it, I’d run more races, even short ones, to keep myself honest. But at this point, I can’t. Though I’m already thinking I enjoy this stuff too much and money be damned, I’ll splurge for the a couple marathons this Fall. Plus Hood2Coast is coming up!

The majority of the race is on the Wildwood Trail, which runs the length of Forest Park. It’ll be an ‘out and back’ here too, meaning there will be cross traffic as the faster runners come back. I’m already starting to settle in to the group of people who are running at about the same pace. Or not, since I tend to come on strong in the beginning and then bog down in the second half. We’ll see. I’m kinda surprising myself at my pace. Surely this can’t last!

The route takes us uphill, on a sidetrail, Fire Lane 1 to be exact, for a short out and back/up and down, at the top of which is the first Aid Station. But man, I’m glad I’m not doing this barefoot, these fire lanes are just straight up gravel roads. And yeah, I walk it. But there are some lovely goodies, which I unfortunately just don’t feel up for eating, but I nibble on some PB&J chunks, orange slices, and one potato chip for some salt.

Down the hill! Still able to use gravity to my advantage, and pass some more folks, though also getting passed. Seems to be the key to fast versus slow runners: the fast ones are able to run fast downhill. And back on Wildwood, which, here, is actually a pretty barefootable trail, and I’ve enjoyed it that way. It’s just that there are patches of gravel, for when the this place gets soaked in the Winter and becomes a mud line. Could I do this race barefoot? Probably, but doing so would add at least another hour to my time, and I’ve been there before: coming in when the organizers are already taking down the tents. That sucks.

Oh, interestingly: Coming uphill on Fireline 1 were already the halflings: the lead runners in the half marathon. Nothing like getting ‘lapped’ by the halflings, but they will turn around at this point, while we marathoners continue north(westish) on the Wildwood. Runners are now fairly spaced out, though so far I’m not finding myself by myself, like happens with some trail marathons, where I sometimes wonder if everyone has just gone home. I’m passing some folks on the downhill, but they’re just as much catching me on the uphills. I’m alternating between walking hills, and going into ‘granny gear,’ as I learned from Scott Jurek (in his recent book). But, that can get ridiculous sometimes, when someone is walking just as fast behind me as I am running. Good verification that yeah, walking the hills doesn’t really lose you much time.

THUMP!

Holy crap that was my right foot! I just smacked right into something, not sure what, maybe a root. Like, hard. Like, there should be some pain. But there’s not. That’s gotta be a bad thing. I’m still running, but there’s like a numb feeling coming from my little toe. Damn, I do not want to look. But no, I have to: Oh crap. My little toe is out almost at ninety degrees. That’s not good. That’s like, broken. I’m going to have to go to the hospital. With no insurance. ‘Well Mr. Yohe, how did this happen?’

‘Running?’

‘With your shoes on?’

‘No, um, in these sandals.’

‘What kind of dumbass runs in sandals?’

Or something like that. Anyways, can I get through the rest of the race this way? With my little toe flopped off to the side? Am I about to feel a lot of pain soon?

But, I keep running, and experiment with trying to move all the toes. I can’t seem to move the toe sideways, like to pull it in, but curling all the toes seems to work, and in doing so, kind of draws it in, so that it starts to look somewhat normal. Somewhat.... I guess I’ll go on. Maybe it’s just dislocated? Maybe I won’t need a hospital visit?

Still fairly strong pace, up until I get to the second Aid Station, which is again at the top of a side trail. I’m gulping more water—probably should have been gulping more already—and the downhill isn’t so barrely—the quads are starting to scream. And the bottoms of the feet.

But yes, that was the halfway point. Actually a little beyond because of the original out and back. Check my watch: 2:30. Ok, that’s good. I’ll take that. So, looking at over five hours. Would be nice to slip in under 5:30, way more than I expected even, but yeah, I’m a little tired now. A little weary. But, home court advantage, I know that from here, it’s all (mostly) downhill! Which helps. Helps me keep up the pace just by gravity. If this were just a flat straightaway, I’d be trudging, but here, now, I’m still running fast. Or, faster than normal, faster than I would be by myself. Can this last? Or is my no training going to lead to a total bog down?

The people I was running with (or nearby) have all pulled away. I’m seeing others coming up the trail on their way to the aid station, everyone being very encouraging, though I get a little worried when I see an older woman with a half-marathon bib. Uh oh. Did she take a wrong turn at Albuquerque? Imagine her surprise when she learns she’s about to run a full marathon. Eep.

I settle into a back and forth with some new folks, including a couple, the woman seemingly stronger at this point than her boyfriend, though, after we each pass each other a couple of times, and get up to the fourth (which was also the second) Aid Station, and back down, the guy asks me, ‘How you doing?’

‘I’m ok.’

‘My legs are screaming.’

‘Yeah. We’re a three quarters of the way there!’

But then even the girlfriend seems to bog down, and I lose them. And others are also doing some walking at this point: I catch up to some guys that had passed me a while back. Me, I’m amazingly still going steady. Legs aching on the downhills, no barreling anymore, but keeping steady, now into very familiar territory, I can visualize exactly how much longer we have to go. I wonder if that’s really an advantage? Must be. Another Marathon Maniac woman runs with me for a while, then finally makes her move. ‘We have to be getting close, aren’t we?’

‘Yes. We’re real close.’

That’s all she needs to hear, and she speeds up. I do too. A little. We pass another guy who’d been with us for a while, he seems to be cramping, but then falls in behind a little bit. Hm, I wonder how old he is? In my age category? Can’t let him beat me then! That’s my hope, that this race is small enough that I might actually get in the top three in my age category, and therefore a second medal (all the marathoners get a finish medal). Probably not though, since seems like every man in his early forties is now running marathons, but maybe. It’s enough to give me a little motivation, a little burst of speed. Plus that trailhead is coming up.

I hear it first: clapping. Yep, almost there. Just down this last little section, then, a sharp left and the Finish is downhill a hundred yards. I want so much to give my customary final burst of speed, but it’s too downhill-y, and gravelly as f**k. I can just picture myself biting it at the last minute, so actually have to put on some brakes. But yeah, the folks at the finish see me and clap and cheer. Small crowd, but still nice.

I cross. Check time: Holy crap. 5:08! I’ll take that! That’s actually a really good time for me, considering. 44th overall, 12th in my age group (sigh).

My toe seems....ok. Swollen and red, but I can move it a bit. I think I’ll tough it out with no hospital visit.

And more food and drink. Wish I was hungrier, but I think the heat combined with the exertion (and the toe?) are combining to make me a little queasy. Still, a cup o’ lentil soup and a cold root beer makes John happy. I stay to cheer in some of the folks I ran with, but now it is time for me to limp home and collapse.

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