Barefoot Josh

Don’t worry, nothing happened. I’m fine, ran a pleasant and easy 7 miles today (combined runs with dogs and by myself). MissZippy and Mr. Loser expressed a bit of concern about the pinkie toe pain, which started the brain wheels turning. The barefoot debate seems to be focused on extremes: it’s either a cure-all that will propel you to running Nirvana (hello, hello, hello, he-loo) or a new age cult that will put you in a wheelchair. Based on my personal experiences and observations of others so far, I don’t think it has to be an either/or situation. Here are four ways runners can hurt themselves by going barefoot:

1. No research. People are used to being sold products that solve their problems. Buy x, solve problem y. But barefoot is not a product. It’s a how. You don’t just kick off your shoes and resume your training schedule. And don’t “just take it slow,” either. DO YOUR HOMEWORK, you lazy slacker. Make sure you have a good grasp of the HOW before you give it a shot. You don’t take the Garmin or whatever out of the box and expect it to just “work;” you have to know how to use it in order to, uh, use it. Your feet are tools. Read the directions first.

2. Boneheadedness. Hey, that’s me! Many barefooters who get the gist of the whole process quickly (because they did their homework) can feel invincible. Let’s do a quick cause and effect rundown of the pains I’ve had since going barefoot: Increased mileage by 100% in one week (Aug ‘09) = sore left hip, left ankle. Hawg Run 5K, cold wet weather, ran as hard as I could = blister.  Mistletoe half, cold wet weather, ran as hard as I could = REALLY BAD blisters that put me on the couch for weeks. Increased mileage by 90% in one week (Mar ‘10), including a 10 mile tempo run with an altered gait = sore pinkie toe. All of these were avoidable, and they all involved pushing too hard when I KNEW I was pushing too hard. I either went fast before I learned how to do it smoothly, in weather that compromised my feedback system (cold and wet = numb and blisterable), or ignored the slow mileage increase rule. Because I’m a bonehead.

3. Rocks, glass, roots, booby traps, etc. Although fear of debris is absurdly overblown, I’ll go ahead and throw the anti-barefooters a bone (just don’t step on it!). Even if I’m paying attention, I still from time to time step on something that makes me say “ouch.” So far the only damage done has been a small cut from what I assume was a piece of glass. I didn’t even know I was cut until I saw blood spots on the kitchen floor. By the time I cleaned up my foot, the bleeding stopped. That’s it. That was a few weeks ago, and I don’t even remember which foot it was. If you’re paying attention, and not acting like a bonehead, everything but the occasional small cut or abrasion is avoidable.

4. Deformed feet. I really don’t know anything about anyone else’s feet but mine. Podiatrists like to blather hysterically about how one needs perfect feet to run barefoot, but maybe they’re right to at least some extent. Maybe a lifetime in “corrective” footwear deforms the foot to an irreparable state that the only option is more of the same. Sort of like a battered wife who knows of no other life than the one with her violent husband, and is incapable of functioning in any other environment.

Yes, I did just compare podiatry to the actions of an abusive husband. An abusive husband (or elected politician, potato, potAHto) attains and maintains power by instilling and propagating fear. And it’s fear that the barefoot haters are peddling. There are so many absurd shoes on the market, that if they were really concerned about the health of their customers, the “experts” would speak out against them, too. But they don’t. Why? Because they’re on the same side. They sell fear.

In such an atmosphere, it can be difficult for barefooters to be upfront about the struggles we have. I didn’t take any pictures of my foot after the Mistletoe Half, in part because it was just gross, but also because I didn’t want my lack of caution to confirm people’s fear. So, sorry about that. Of course there’s risk. There’s risk in everything. But fear makes you stupid. Remember after 9-11, when people were duct taping their windows and buying portable parachutes? In, like, Des Moines, IA? Right. Don’t live your life that way.

No offense to any Iowans.

Oh, wait – I forgot. I’ve gotten a splinter or two, too. So, forget all that. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Official time: 55:36
70th out of 159
11th out of 15 dudes my age

With giving the field a 30 second head start (unintentionally) and staying in the back for the first couple of miles, I managed to pass 89 people in what I hope was a gentlemanly manner.

So it looks like I dodged another bullet with my New Year’s Resolution-breaking bump up in mileage last week. I do have a mild pain in either the joint or metatarsal behind my right pinkie toe. No mystery why that pain is there – I’ve been favoring my right big toe (the healing Mistletoe half blister – three months now!) and landing more on the outside of that foot. I’ve run through/around much worse pain before, both before and after going barefoot, but I’m going to continue taking it easy this week. Not because I’m worried about it, but because I feel I should “punish” myself for being reckless.

I have a 5k next week and a 5 miler the week after that. Don’t expect any PRs – I’ll be employing my back-of-the-pack gentleman technique for all races up to the Blue Ridge Marathon because I need to be in the best Don’t Be An Idiot shape of my life. That’s a mountain bigger than anything I’ll be running over…

Mocksville St. Francis Shamrock 10k

Overall time: 55:33ish

That’s all I got so far.

So that was a fun run. First and foremost: the food spread was awesome. Pizza, enchiFREAKINladas (homemade!), brownies (homemade!), salty/sweet party mix, and of course the usual bagel/banana/oranges. If it wasn’t at a church with churchiness everywhere, I’d have thought all the St. Patrick clovers were a wink wink nudge nudge know what I mean stand in for another plant entirely.

I was about a 30 second sprint away from the starting line when the cowbell rang, because I was looking for a place to properly dispose of my water bottle. I know I could have thrown it on the ground because they have cleanup crews for this very purpose, but I started looking for a trash bin and I was not going to start the race until I found one. Why, I don’t know. Sometimes not even I know why I do what I do. That was ok though, because I was planning on starting at the back anyway.

It’s cool to start at the back, because how often in life do you see droves of people running away from you? VERY empowering. RUN, PUNY EARTHLINGS.

Oh right – barefoot blog. What was on my feet? Socks at first. It was chilly. But after about half a mile, I could feel how warm the pavement was, and was that nice smooth new asphalt. So I took them off (the socks, not my feet). I stayed in the back for a mile, running with some fellow MadMayoites. I started to gradually drift ahead, hitting mile 2 at twenty minutes. Time to play.

These were the rules: 1. Be a gentleman. Don’t squeeze or rush past anyone. Every pass had to be considerate and smooth. Don’t tailgate. 2. Don’t let anyone pass. Unless they were obviously a speedy person with a late start. And, of course, any action on my part could not violate rule #1. 3. Don’t work too hard. I’ve had a rather arduous training week. I modified the 10% rule, and ran 43 miles this week. Last week’s total? 24 miles. So, yeah. Imma leetle tired.

#1 was easy, in no small part because of #3. #2 wasn’t an issue. If my math is right, I averaged an 8:20 after mile two, on a mildly hilly course. A little slower than a tempo run, but it was beautiful out and I was feeling all hippy-ish. Keep on truckin. I did pick it up at the last 0.1k, just because I felt the spectators deserved a little show. I’m a giver.

I will say the overall energy from fellow runners was a little more on the derisive side. Not exclusively by any means, but lot’s of “mumble mumble mumble crazy! mumble mumble snarky mumble heard of technology? Ha! mumble mumble mumble weird…” But as I said, I was feeling hippyish, so it didn’t bug me. When I gave the finish line guy my bib tag, he said something to the effect of, “you’d probably be faster if you wore shoes…”

Now, I’m a cocky bastard. Give me an opportunity to brag, and I’ll happily oblige. Especially if I get such an easy lay-up. “Why actually,” said I, “in my first barefoot 5k race, I knocked off 3 minutes from my shod PR that stood for years. With no speedwork training. So, nyagh.”

I ran back and collected my buddies, who were finishing strong. Then, feast. Part One.

Feast Part Two took place at Hillbilly Hideaway for dinner. Are you ready, Jamoosh?

Behold the spread.

Game face ON.

Ribs, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, pinto beans, string beans, baked apples, cole slaw, fried bread, corn bread, and sweet tea. ALL YOU CAN EAT. While I am proud of me digestive effort, our visiting friend for the weekend put me to shame. I may be winless today, but I’m stuffed and sleepy, which is as good as a win in my book.

Don’t know if I’m doing a long run tomorrow. I could totally justify taking it easy, and put it off until the middle of the week. But the weather will be nice again…

Finally, I have a food ism. I am a Tremendomeatatarian, one who only eats meat if it’s delicious.

Just came back from a tempo run that has left me totally at peace with the fact that I’ll never be very fast, and thinking maybe I should just run slowly from now on. Whew, the tiredness, the tiredness.

I ate all the caramel Cadbury Eggs. I’m hoping if I apologize publicly, Iris will forgive me.

This weekend is the St. Francis of Assisi Shamrock 10k. An Italian saint and a symbol of a snake-free Ireland. Wait – St. Francis is the patron saint of animals… St. Patrick eminant domained a bunch of snakes, who are animals last I checked. Ooh, I hope there’s a throwdown.

Looks like I’m signing up for the Global Warming, My Ass 6.66 virtual run. I’m a sucker for a good cause.