5 fingers per foot

I'll admit to being a little sucked up into the barefoot running craze (?) sweeping the running nation (?). I think it is of particular interest to older broken-downer-middle-of-the-packer runners (like me) who want an explanation as to why they are not faster, injury-free, efficient forefoot strike runners.

As a kid in the 60's and early 70's in Florida, I can tell you without hesitation that summers were spent barefoot. Bike riding, running nearly everywhere we went, riding horses, and even going to the pick-kwik for icees (before the no shoes-no shirt-no shit thing came to pass). Shoes were for school and church. I don't remember ever having cuts or foot injuries. However, we had pretty filthy feet.

When I ran high school cross country, our coach (the legendary Brent Haley), let us run in old Converse Chuck Taylors, "tennis" shoes, or Keds for a few weeks before putting us into pairs of Brooks Drakes, that had rubbery waffle treads and insanely high wedge heels. And several among us dealt with a variety of lower leg problems. Looking back now, was that a result of the high mileage and intensity, or the footwear?

A few years back I coached a kid who's Dad was a sports podiatrist. I was duly lectured about the absurdity of the human foot, which is apparently loose bag of bones that should not be run upon without expensive cast orthotics that are to be placed within the expensive shoes that are overblown with the latest forefoot cushion goo and are not to be used beyond 300 (or so) miles.

I've seen too many kids run injury free in crappy shoes or running shoes that were deemed "broken down and unusable" (that are often donated to us) to swear that you have to have new shoes, be it of the cushioned, stability, or the dreaded Herman Munster motion control flavor. Yet I'm right in there making sure their parents spring for a 50-75 dollar pair of shoes at the beginning of each season because I'd rather not be a maverick with other peoples' kids' pods.

So between seasons I've read "Born To Run" and every other barefoot and minimalist shoe study I can get my eyes on. And at Christmas I was presented with a pair of Vibram 5 Finger shoes that I've been puttering around in from time to time. I have worn them very sparingly. I also have been attending a weekly barefoot running "clinic" for the last few weeks. The barefoot clinic as it turns out is less about running mileage barefoot than it is about reconnecting with the mechanics of running like you did when you didn't know any better. The feeling of running freely on soft (and often wet) grass is nearly overwhelming. There has to be something to it when the assembled 40-50 year old dudes smile and blurt out how much they feel like a kid again. So far no one has turned up injured, which leads me to believe that no one will. Will I throw my stability shoes away and become a minimalist footwear(er) or barefoot-bible thumping freak?

Probably not.

All I know is that I look forward to "barefoot running" day more than any running day of the week. And that has to be a good thing.

Rock & Run

Ok, I run with an iPod. Maybe you don’t. Maybe it’s a puss move to perform the act of running with musical accompaniment Maybe it’s dangerous to jam those earbuds deep into your earholes, crank up the volume, and blot out the din of passing cars, sneaky bicycle bums, and assholes who honk and yell “Run Forest, Run!” as they blow by. Maybe it’s a factor in the softening of American “tough running” or the amount of sub 2:30 Boston finishers compared to 1979. Maybe, but I do it.

I ran in the late 80’s with a Sony walkman cassette player (nearly as large as a Japanese bento box) and clunky headphones with foamy ear muffs and 20’ cords that were looped and bread- tied. I ran with the first micro-teeny am/fm radios that seemed to only receive sports talk radio programs (talk about a bummer to run to). I ran with crappy portable cd players, developing a food servers’ type running gait to keep the thing steady and tracking. And I've run with tinny mp3's that held too few songs and sucked the life out of triple A batteries before you could finish a decent long run.

So I’ve done my penance and I deserve the right to run with a compact, efficient product that straps on my bicep, keeps a charge, and holds a gabillion songs that can be shuffled such that you won’t hear the same song for hundreds of running miles.

Tuesday night as I ran the old 13 mile beach loop without the proper light to see the reading on the Garmin, I thought that you could really do some neat workouts just based off of the average song time of a particular artist/band, set to the correlating distances..

Example:

Distance Artist
¼ mile repeats Circle Jerks, Minutemen, Ramones
½ mile repeats Any AM radio 1960’s pop song (average time 2:45)
mile repeats Jesus and Mary Chain, Joy Division
Fartlek Any Nirvana song
tempo repeats Rush, Yes, ELP

And on that note...30 years ago, I could run a 5k faster than you could finish the album version of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (baby, 17:05). This March when I run my next race, I’ll be lucky to finish faster than it took Kraftwerk to beep the last boop on that classic hit “Autobahn” (22:43).

Tenslow

It’s been an up and down week of running. With any luck I'll get a few mile miles in today and tomorrow for a total of 30 or so miles and I'd like to think I'm getting back to a point where I don't feel like a total fraud when I say "I run".

Saturday it was cold and rainy as I headed out for a run through the park. I did explore a new route through an adjoining golf course and scoped out a section for a possible ¼ mile loop for the kids to work out on next year.

Sunday we hung back from the morning run, instead going after lunch to attempt the beach loop on the coldest day we’ve had in a long time. I made it to our 3 mile watering hole and feeling out of sorts, aborted the mission. “Its like someone just pushed me in the back and I’ve been falling forward the whole time”. Robin said “Don't worry about it. It’s like Maude (her pilates guru) says.. Not all days are the same”. I have not run less than half of what I set out to do in a long, long time.

Both days I’d barely cracked 9 mm pace for the average of the run.

Tuesday I ran out to the beach immediately after work, getting into a quick rhythm in the 8:30 zone, and feeling randy at the turn around point I threw in 6 x 1 minute of surge pace (which turned out to be a dismal 7 mm) followed by 1 minute trail pace recoveries (this wound up being 1.5 miles for 12 minutes) and cooled down the additional 2 miles home (remarkably around the 8:30 pace again) for 7 miles total which is a big day for my current state of volume/quality.

Last night I had in mind to run semi long and slow. The sun was setting as I crossed the 1st bridge and the temp was in the mid 50’s (very nice). I’d popped a handful of almonds into my mouth and chased it with a few sips of water before I left. I’d also tossed a gel in my shirt pouch in case I ran out of gas. Along the way I was thinking about the Tarahumara runners (I am currently reading “Born To Run”) and before I realized it, I had crossed the south bridge and was back on the mainland in the pitch darkness, 9 miles away from where I’d started and running faster each mile. I finished with a tad over 10 uninterrupted (the cooler weather has made it possible to run without stopping to drink) miles.

At home I slipped into the pool for an ice bath. My feet turned into frozen rocks and thought twice before deciding not to venture in beyond the kneecaps.

move it

Coe's dad said that in order to run fast you must train fast. I was so beat last night that I couldn't bear the thought of another slow, fat plodding run (I hate the way my feet sound as they slap the surface of the asphalt when I'm not fit) so I went to the man cave (Mia's old room), closed the door (to seal the heat loss from the rest of the house), opened the windows (at 40 degrees out, I thought it would cool the room down), and fired up the mill for a quick leg turnover workout, lumbering through a 10 minute "warm-up" and rolling into 5 x 1 minute @6:20 pace w/1 min jog recovery at 10mm pace. The total was less than 3 miles. Bleh.

This afternoon around 4, I called Robin and asked her to come home early (5 pm) and ride alongside while I ran out to the beach (I'm lucky she likes the bridge and likes to ride the beach). I got home at 4:55 and was under the blue hairy blanket (a term that our grandson uses to described this particular blanket) by 4:57). Robin rolled into the drive at 5 and bolted through the front door ready to go.

About 30 minutes and 3.6 miles later we stood at the boardwalk near the shore and watched the remains of the day as it slipped behind water. It is moments like this that remind me I'd be crazy to consider anywhere else. Heading home, talking about our upcoming ski trip, feeling the cold wind on everything that was not covered, for a few miles I dreamed of what it would be like to always be running in cool weather and in that zone, lost the sound of my feet slapping the concrete.

come and get your love

Another chilly evening here. I took a zero (no running) on Monday as a planned recovery from Sunday's long run and held off today until after work to get a few miles in. All day I was thinking "I'll run 5.5 miles"..why? "Because that would add up to an even 20 miles between Sunday and today's' run" what is the significance of that? "beats the hell out of me". It was just under 40 degrees on the bank clock/therm as I pulled onto our street. I was bone assed tired and cold and waited until dark so I could slip on some full length running tights without giving my neighbors an Ichabod Crane sighting. I didn't "waste" time stretching or anything and began as soon as the gps got a signal. I immediately fell into an uncomfortably fast pace and stayed there until I got home. Why? "I have no idea". What is the purpose of running beyond the comfort zone when all you are trying to do is make a comeback and build a little base? "beats the hell outta me".

When I got home and the smell of ammonia that escaped the pores subsided, I checked my email and learned that Tony Bellamy, the guitarist of the 70's band Redbone had died of liver failure. I remembered the song "come and get your love" very well from the radio and from all those k-tel records commercials that we endured as kids and from the Don Kirshner's Rock Concert late night tv show. So much was possible back in those days that I don't believe is possible now. I couldn't begin to understand how the music industry works anymore.

old feelings

It's been a chilly 2010. The last 2 Sundays have been run in layered clothes. Last Sunday we rounded up a group of kids and fashioned an 8 mile beach/bridge run, including an assault on all 3 bridges that make up our old 14 mile Clearwater loop. It was a fun run, met out at a very leisure pace and was a reintroduction to running "long" for a few of the girls who hadn't done much since cross country season ended back in early November. The boys among the group did what they do, fartleking as on auto pilot, hurdling, and bolting around the girls like colts.

The highlight of the run was being able to cross the Belleair Beach Causeway bridge, which had been closed to pedestrian traffic for some 2 or so years, during its (re)construction process. Several among the local running club had been and turned away from or escorted off of the bridge by whatever law enforcement agency was patrolling the span during this time. I had looked forward to running over the thing again for the longest time and vowed to have a little party on the first Sunday following the opening. And we did so at the end of the trek with cinnamon rolls and asiago bagels at the Panera Bread, located about a 1/2 mile from the east end of the span. All present agreed that it was such a great time that we'd do the same run and bakery deal on the following Sunday.

But as the week went on, it got colder and when I didn't hear from any of the kids by Saturday night, I switched plans and decided to tag along with my old buddies who would be running a marathon in 7 days. The temp at the bank thermometer at the end of our street read 36 degrees as we headed out at 6:30 and with a slight breeze, it felt a little cooler yet. I had dug out my old long compression socks and long compression shorts and threw on a pair of poly sweat pants over them, intending to shuck them at the meeting place. I also had a long sleeve techie type shirt with a loose NB windbreaker over that and completed the set with a woolie beany and glove liners. Once we got there, I decided to keep the sweat pants on ( a very good move).

We struck out, eyes watering and noses running and got a nice wake up call courtesy of the crosswind on the 1st bridge at mile 2. My head got hot and sweaty (for the life of me, I can't wear those things) and I pulled it and the windbreaker off at the marina at mile 5...only to put the windbreaker back on just a few minutes later. I guess the slower pace gave me more time to focus on the wind chill or something. By this time, Robin's fingers were numb (a combination of the cold and gripping the bike handles, I think) so at each stop, I'd have her pull her gloves off and I'd do the Mr. Miyagi friction warm up with my warmed gloves on her bare fingers.

I have not run over 10 miles for a year or more and at mile 9, as the cramping and lower back fatigue set in, I thought back to the times when I was running pretty well and pretty long and how bad but good it was to be at mile 20 or a 23 mile run, knowing that you had more to go and wondering how your legs would allow this to happen. "Mile 9 feels like mile 19 used to feel" is what I said to anyone interested.

We pressed on further down the beach and back onto the mainland and I wisely aborted the idea of getting back to our starting place (for 17.5 miles) in lieu of just trying to get toward home (which was closer to 15) and Robin gamely peeled off to get back home and fetch a car (to stop the suffering and to hurry up breakfast). I resolved to run a "hard" last mile, shut the GPS off at the 14.5 mile mark, and walk until I was rescued.

It felt so good to crawl into the warm car, out of the freezing and sweat soaked running gear and into dry one size fits all bumwear during the ride to the restaurant. I had forgotten the feeling of trying to get out of a car or into a booth after a long run. I had forgotten how good those first sips of iced tea were, and how drinking feels much like filling tiny and thin flattened water balloons that I imagined my veins and arteries to be.

And I kick myself in the ass for getting too far away from these experiences by taking the time off from running "long" like I have these last few years.

(I'm) On Facebook

Facebook; “reconnect with friends and family”. Seek out (and stalk) old high school crushes, workplace flings, or relatives who you haven’t “talked” to for years (for good reasons).

Facebook; Put yourself out there and ask a stranger to be your friend. Take a chance that they will remember you as well as you remember them. “Man, it’s been a long time, great to hear from you! Remember that time we rolled old lady McDermott’s house after she suspended us for putting dead baby sharks in the school pool before the state meet?!? Haha, lol” …Only to get the response “Great hearing from you, too. I don’t remember any of that. All my best to you and your family. Take care”.

Facebook; If you weren’t popular in high school, don’t try to come back and try that shit now. It doesn’t work any better than it did then. It has a way of being a virtual class reunion of sorts. Unless you became a rock star or a doctor between the time your cap tassel hit the ground and today you’d better back the fudge up and know your place in the hierarchy of high school reconnection protocol. The old Prom Queen might grace you with a "friend confirmation" but that doesn't mean you can sniff around her wall.

Facebook; Send a “How is your Mom (Dad, husband, wife, aunt, or dog) doing? Tell ‘em I said Hi! and give ‘em all my best!”. And you get back a “They are dead, thanks for asking, all my best to you, take care”. On facebook you are supposed to give all your best all the time. Note: If you get an "all my best" or a "take care", that is code for "please don't try to interact with me again".

Facebook; Woah: take it easy on those profile pics. Bring it in close for a face shot if you’ve put on a few lbs., crop the top off if you are bald (or balding), or go ahead and post a picture of you with your best-looking kid to validate your genetic value (as in "I might look like shit now but look what I made). Even more bizarre, you see a number of profile "pics" that are cartoon characters or animals. I wonder what that means. If you've been in a horrible accident then God Bless You but if you've just aged badly then that is cheating. And hey, if you don’t want to be “found” then don’t participate. Otherwise let us see what the fuck you look like (currently), ok?

Facebook; How many ways can you say “happy, good, like, glad, or sorry” without having to use those very words. When you don’t know how else to respond, dispense a “thanks for sharing”, a Haha, or an lol. Use an exclamation point to end nearly every sentence because you are excited and you mean it! Interject a dude, bro, man, or buddy with the guys to keep it masculine; "Love you, bro!" will go over... but "I love you, Ray" is something different. Don't get your luv and love fucked up, there will be a problem. Oh, and send ”healing vibes” and "hugs" to the less fortunate (like you are some kind of fucking telepathic typing shaman or something). And don’t give us a spellcheck, you facebook bastards, because we need to reevaluate the intelligence of those who don’t know the difference between to and too, their and there, hear and here, then and than, we’re and were, etc..

Facebook; You let us know more about my friends than we had bargained for. I didn’t want to know so and so was a fan of any right wing, left wing, God fearing, god is dead, or smart ass "turn my house into a pirate ship" group, or that they “heart” tattoos, Harleys, and lingerie models. And don’t get me started on your Farmville, Fishville, Shitville, Mafia Wars score (kapeesh?), or whatever the fuck you just “whipped up” at the whatchacallit cafe. If I scroll-stroll through your “wall” and all I see for miles is your game scores, delicious dishes, or virtual livestock count then you are simply a masturbator.. you are just doing facebook for yourself. All we really want you people to do is post responses to our witty status updates and tag pictures of us (preferably of when we were younger and thinner, please).

Facebook; You give us a “what’s on your mind” box which becomes our “status”. Help us identify and label the needy, clinically depressed, drunkard, who has “the most amazing husband (or wife) in the world!” (which of course means they are banging someone other than their amazing wife or husband), or who is living in some variety of denial.


Facebook; Gives us the philosophers, metaphysics, mystics, provokers, and lyric quoters who post their (Googled) “thought of the day” and “guess what kind of mood I’m in” bullshit. You know, the deep thinkers and Gandhis who are in reality plumbers (like me) or receptionists who would cut you in line at Disney or flip you off in a heartbeat if you are driving like an ass.

Facebook; I love you….as much as I love my “friends” and my “family” who’s last names, spouses names, and children’s names have escaped me if I ever never knew them to begin with. Thank you for letting us spread our love around. We reach deep into the love bag and toss it out all over your pages like candy at a parade.

Facebook: When it comes down to it, what I really want from you is more “friends” than I’ve actually met and I want a deep, immediate bond with them all…without the hassle of hearing their voices. Haha, lol