I'll admit I look ridiculous. I'll concede that it's a craze. I know it seems nuts. But I don't care. I know that I'm right and I want the world to know it: I'm a believer, a full-fledged subscriber to the barefoot movement!
That felt good. But I should clarify: not totally barefoot, per se. More accurately, I'm a full convert to the Vibram FiveFinger shoe movement. You know, those weird looking booties that look like aqua-socks with individual slots for each toe. The Foot Glove. I know you've seen them. I know you've had to do a double-take upon seeing these things for the first time. I'm sure you've been confused, you've probably scoffed. What the hell is... that... guy doing? What on earth is he running in? He looks ridiculous!
I know because that was my initial reaction. My reaction was easily explained away in my mind though: fucking crazy San Francisco. My sheltered eyes see something shocking at least once a week though, so I didn't think much of the booties after my initial spotting a few years ago. Not until I stumbled across a book.
ReBorn to Run
I saw it resting on my brother's bookshelf in his Washington, D.C. apartment. "Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall" read the book's spine. I didn't even need to pull the book off the shelf. I knew. I had to read this book.
I had just written about my first Xterra Triathlon experience a few months prior. But I had never read someone else's first-hand account of running, biking, or swimming. So I craved a book that spoke about this. I hardly knew anything about the book, but I wanted inspiration - for my training as well as my writing. I wanted to see how much there was to learn. I longed for an example of what a real work of talent, transcribed from first-hand experience, really looks like. I wanted to absorb. I hoped to think about running in a new way, and to think about writing about running in a new way. But I couldn't anticipate what happened next.
I devoured the book to and from work on the train everyday. McDougall's tone, pace and subject matter immediately pulled me in. All of the sudden I couldn't wait for my over-stuffed, forever frustrating train ride home everyday. McDougall was funny, humble, and had an amazing story to tell. I became so engrossed in the book and the story that I didn't realize how, after each day of commuting and reading, McDougall was slowly chipping away at everything I thought I knew about running.
One trip on the train and my mind is far away in a mysterious canyon in Mexico, the next ride home its analyzing a study by Harvard scientists. One chapter I'm following a group of colorful ultra-marathon distance runners on a quest to put together a race in Mexico, the next I'm learning about the author's 6'4'', 240 lb frame and propensity for running-induced injury. One minute I'm reading about a remarkable tribe in the canyons of Mexico who can run the distance of New York to Detroit non-stop, the next I'm reading a study telling me that running shoes are dangerous.
Dangerous? What? There's nothing wrong with running shoes, right? How could there be? Everyone wears running shoes. Just so long as you change them out every six months? You have to make sure there's enough gel in those soles, don't you?
Nope, the book slams you with another study finding that you're more likely to get injured with newer running shoes than older ones. You're better off wearing your old shoes, the shoes that are more worn down.
Well, wait a minute. What about yoga? You just need to stretch to avoid injury, right? I can still wear running shoes and...
Nope. Same result. Studies found that those who do yoga regularly are more likely to get injured than runners who don't.
Shit.
There are explanations and anecdotes. The book swings from evolutionary explanations, physiological and muscular explanations, and historical explanations to the author's personal transition from running shoes to barefooting. McDougall throws all sorts of stats at the reader - the rate, likelihood and inevitability of injury for runners wearing running shoes. He describes this native tribe of Mexico who run these incredible distances, essentially barefoot. He describes how running shoes give our feet a false sense of support, which leads to all sorts of problems: over-pronation, striking too hard, bad posture and technique.
(I won't lay out all of the book's arguments, because I don't want to butcher the author's fantastic job of it. But I did share a video of the author laying out some of the book's ideas in a speech that I think will give you a sense of the persuasiveness of the ideas. Otherwise, check out the book if you can. If nothing else, its entertaining as hell.)
It goes on and on like this. It left me breathless, completely and utterly convinced. I'm a third year law student. The heart of my training is in assessing, weighing and analyzing the merit of arguments. But this book, man this book, made me feel like I was trained in the art of unflinching, unquestioning religious fervor.
Before long, I'd walk in my front door, and glare at my running shoes out of the corner of my eye, skeptically. Who are you?! Traitors! Why are you trying to hurt me? I don't even know you anymore, I'd shout as I walked past my sad old hooves. I felt betrayed.
Tracy must have been worried because usually I'm so cautious. I'm not one to get swept up in something so quickly. I take my time, weigh everything, dip one toe in, then pull it out, then maybe start to slowly jump in. But there was just something about this book.
In fact, I know Tracy was worried. She couldn't wait for me to finish the book. Because, she'd say, it just sounded so good. But what I think was really going on was that she was like a concerned parent trying to find out who this cool, eccentric new friend was who her boy was coming home and raving about everyday.
After I finished the book and passed it on to her, it didn't take long before I realized she was just as crazy about this eccentric new friend as I was. Literally, I handed her the book, then went into the other room to finish up some work. Before I could even sit down at my desk, I could hear her cackling in the other room, giggling like a school girl. Swooned immediately, just like I was.
One week later, I was now the worried one. She was buzzing around the apartment, more convinced of the idea than me, more convinced than I think even the author was. We turned into the Jevhovah's Witnesses of Barefoot Running.
Running shoes are evil! Burn them all! All good things come through Barefoot! The second coming is here!
We wanted to save everyone. But first, we had to put our money where our mouths were. Or rather, where are feet were.
Sole-less
I pulled out the ruler and measured. Okay, a size 41 it is! I clicked on their website and found the style of Vibram that I wanted, the style that most conformed to the type of running I do. The Treksport style, all black, was made for trail running. Perfect. Confirm purchase. Now, I wait.
My first time putting them on, I didn't want to take them off - ever. I wanted to wear them at all times, do everything in them. (See photos throughout.) They were so comfy. They made me feel so athletic and prepared for anything. Fire breaks out? Don't worry, I can scale the side of that building and save those children and kittens. An unplanned game involving any sort of variety of ball? Yes please! But I did take them off, but not before I took them for their first spin.
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| Barefoot Lounging |
Getting beyond my own uneasiness of wearing spandex in public was a huge wall to climb. Now throw ballerina slippers into the mix and I'm totally fucked. Where did my life take such a wrong turn? These are my initial thoughts as I hit the trail for the first time in the Vibrams after a mountain bike ride.
It felt less like running and more like tip-toeing and prancing through a meadow, springing from one lilly-pad to the next. If my old football coach could only see me now. Christ.
But a few minutes in, these self-conscious thoughts dissolve. They are forced out by the focus that is required - the focus needed to avoid the big rocks, to land properly on the ball (or pad) of my feet, with knees bent and soft. My toes are reaching out and gripping the dirt while I climb the hill. My feet feel lighter than they ever have. My knees have spring. My calves are receiving more sensation (oh so much!) than they ever have. My ankles, achilles, the muscles in my feet, all muscles I've never considered before, are all singing. Before long I'm completely zeroed in and engaged.
I've been a runner for about four years, but I received more feedback from, and insight into, my body in those 30 minutes than those four years combined. The bodily feedback and insight sang during that first run, but the singing had just begun. The soreness after that run sang much, much louder. I looked like I was walking around on the stilts the rest of the week, all stiff and wobbly. I knew this would be a long process.
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| Barefoot Snoozing. |
Its really like learning to run all over again. I pretty much had to disregard everything I thought I knew about running. I was humbled. I couldn't run the distances I used to be able to do without giving it a second's thought. A thirty-minute run became a marathon. Running more than two times a week was suicidal. The tension in my calves would kick in on my fifth step. It was unreal.
I had to consult alternate sources. We found a book on barefoot running that had photos and examples of proper form by a self-proclaimed guru of the barefoot style, "Barefoot Ken Bob." (Please google this guy. Just to see the photos of him.) My running form and posture completely changed. My knees bent heavily, my back straightened, my feet landed on the ball, as opposed to the heel.
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| Barefoot Pooping. |
I continued to improve, to hurt less and run further. But because Tracy hadn't bought her pair of Vibrams yet, she was still running at her normal distances and paces, despite removing the soles from her shoes - to try to get less support and closer to the barefoot (the truth!). Accordingly, I wanted to keep up and get some distance in. So every once in a while, on the weekends, I would shamefully revert back to my old hooves. It was embarrassing, like crawling back to an old lover. But I'd be able to keep up. More than anything though, it made me realize how bored it is wearing running shoes. It made me realize how numb my feet felt when wearing running shoes, how such little effort was taking place below the knee, how the thick sole of the shoes would angle my back forward and result in stiffness later.
In other words, it made me realize how I truly am a convert to the barefoots.
Jehovah's Footness
I can't help but feel like their uncompensated spokesperson. When we run around in them, we often get stares, sometimes we get stopped and questioned. (Tracy got her Vibrams about a month ago or so. On her first run in the booties, she got real silent. Then she looked over at me and said, "I feel like a ninja." That's it.)
The looks and questions from strangers range from, 1) What the fuck?, to 2) How do you like them?, to 3) I'm thinking about getting a pair. More often the latter in the city.
It's intimidating at first. But we've embraced it. We're not as fervent about saving everyone as we were initially. But if people ask, we will share. Or we will mock other people who run past us with wild running forms that are only enabled by running shoes and will inevitably result in injury if maintained. We can be kind of dickish sometimes.
I've been wanting to write this since my first run in the Vibrams. But I wanted to wait it out, to see if I would improve, get injured, hate them, or who knows. But after my run last Friday night - the same trail run after mountain bike ride where I had my first run in the Vibrams - I knew it was time. It was time to share.
Friday night was only a 45 minute trail run, but it was hands down the most remarkable running experience of my life. Because it was so remarkable, I don't think it is worth trying to describe. I will just leave it at this.
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