May
14

The Calfachilankle Explanation

By Barefoot Josh Posted in eureka!, pain and injuries | 7 Comments »

So I went two weeks without running because of a weird pain in my calfachilankle. The pain only occurred when running slowly. I had no issues with running fast, aside from the usual running fast stuff. Last week I started running again. How did it go, you no doubt are asking your internet delivery system of choice.

My answer would be hitchless, as in, without a hitch. Which is exactly what I predicted would be the case if my secret hypothesis was true. So what happened, you ask your little handheld universe.

I’ll tell you:

In a few years, we will discover how to travel through time, and I will have the opportunity to go for a jaunt. I will choose to go back to mid-April 2012, with the sole purpose of stopping myself from running the Owl’s Roost Rumble Half. The first time around, something awful must have happened. To stop me, I shot/will shoot my younger self with a futuristic blow dart that caused/will cause a pain akin to what one feels when overtaxing their aging bodies.

Since I was going to run Owl’s Roost barefoot, I was going to be slow. The pain only occurred when running slowly, as I’ve said before, so Future Me must have programmed/will program the Future Dart to abstain from interfering with the ol’ lung-wringing efforts. Thanks, Future Me!

I’m a barefoot runner and therefore immune to injury, therefore the Time Travel Blow Dart hypothesis is the only one that makes sense. You know I’m right, because I used the word “hypothesis” – twice now, in fact – and that’s a science word.

So how incredible is that? I’ve avoided unknowable tragedy, I’m feeling fine, and I might even be a little faster than before! Oh, and there’s the whole time travel thing in our near future, so that’s neat too, I guess. But whatevs, I’m running again!

May
05

Dog Jog 3K Race Report: Sunny Debuts with a Victory!

By Barefoot Josh Posted in pictures, races | 5 Comments »

I predicted our time would be around eleven minutes, and we crossed the line at 10:58 in first place. It’s good to be running again (the achillecalfnkle was rusty, but fine. We’ll see how slow goes tomorrow). Unfortunately, it turns out races are not Sunny’s cup of tea. Not that she drinks tea, of course. Although the dog bowl water is kind of like tea, especially after Tito (who won his weight division with Iris along for the ride!) gets his muddy beard in it.

Tito, the one with the beard, without the sunglasses.

Anyway, she was very frightened of the large group of people. Tito loved every minute of it, but not Sunny. I tried to get her to relax with a little warm up run, but she made it very clear she wanted to get back in the car. All I could do was hope she would relax and enjoy herself once she started running. She wasn’t panicking or anything, just displeased with the goings-on.

It probably didn’t help that I was very nervous. Maybe a race isn’t the best scenario for a first run after a two week hiatus. I wasn’t worried about the distance or effort, I just wanted to finish with my calf adequately attached. Also if something bad were to happen, I wasn’t looking forward to experiencing it so publicly. But I got over it, nothing happened, and really this post is about Sunny.

"I'm very timid around peopl... wait, is that a SQUIRREL?!??!?!"

Not only was I trying to calm her down, I was really hoping she would poop. Oh, sorry, forgot to warn you about frank dog talk. If you don’t like it, well, I guess I apologize from the depths of my very being. Anyway, our regular (ha ha) morning runs (ha ha ha) feature a potty stop somewhere in the middle. Running with a filled poop bag is an excellent exercise for training yourself to run smoothly. The exercise is called Running With Poop Bag!!™, appropriately enough. Poop bag empty, I feared she might decide to go enroute. That fear would come to fruition.

We made our way to the front after wishing Tito and Iris good luck. Once there, we got a good view of the largest dalmatian costume I’ve ever seen walking our way. Inside was my boss, presumably busy not reading a book. “Hey man, good luck. How about a quick arm wrestle before you get started?”

Sunny's tail was tucked under so far she could have scratched her chin with it.

Photo by The Greensboro Running Club.

If you look closely, you can see Tito keeping his legs relaxed in the background.

After the usual formalities and an “On Your Mark… Go,” we went. The initial chaotic surge of dog and human sorted itself out pretty quickly, with Sunny in the lead. It helped that we started heading towards our parked car – Sunny figured that’s where we were going and thought it was a great idea to get there fast. Then we turned away from the lot. Well, I turned. Sunny tried to dictate otherwise.

“Sorry, Sun Bun. We’re going thisaway.”

She glumly accepted that reality and trudged up the hill. She kept folding herself in half, looking back, fixating on the chorus of flinging feet behind us. Running that way made her utilize an odd gallop form I hadn’t seen before this side of crustacean. My fear list got longer: would she overheat? would she trip me? Then she started acting like an anchor. I looked back to see if the struggling was physically or emotionally based. Instead I was greeted with the sight of little turd nuggets flying in the air, like a gross wake from a furry motorboat. I wasn’t sure what to do; should I stop? I slowed down, but she was finished. She’s very talented.

Still, I felt ashamed to not pick up after my dog, and guilty for making her run during what is usually a squatting still experience. Poor Sun Beast.

Load lightened, she was doing a better job of keeping up, but was still obsessed with what was going on behind us. To be honest, I was a little curious myself. The sound of shoes and lungs were getting closer. Who was catching us? The weimereiner leading Mind-Gamingly Low-Profile Guy? Or was it that water dog with a Track Team Kid? No! It was the black lab with College Track Girl! They passed us going down a steep hill. The Sun Beast, focus to the front, went from from spazzy crab run to gentle trot, allowing her to pant the heat out.

We stuck with them, but I didn’t think we were going to pass. Sunny was struggling a bit, and oh yeah I was a little tired myself. As I was happily coming to terms with a second place finish, Sunny perked up. We were cresting a little hill, and she saw the finish, which just so happened to be at the parking lot. The parking lot with the car Sunny desperately wanted to return to. So we flew, passing a valiantly kicking black lab and College Track Girl duo. Sunny would not be denied the Blue Hyundai of Paradise.

Back home, we took a commemorative victory photo.

Sunny: "Whew, I'm tired. I could take a nap right n... WAIT, WAS THAT A SQUIRREL?!?!?!?

I think this might be Sunny’s only race, unless she gets more comfortable in environments with lots of people. That’s okay, though. We have a great running life together, making the sun rise each morning by spinning the globe with our feet. The quiet solitude is more her cup of Tito Tea.

Congrats to my favorite running buddy!

Me: "Yes, that is week-old hummus in my beard and no, you can't have any."

PS The charity organizing this event, Canine Companions, provides highly trained assistance dogs for people with disabilities. They should be high on every charity giver’s recipient list.

May
03

Barefoot on Gravel

By Barefoot Josh Posted in races, video | 4 Comments »

Hey, wanna see me run around barefoot on gravel with a bunch of dogs? Sure you do!

I don’t count that as “running” running. That’s rest. One more day of that, then I try out the ol’ pins on Saturday morning at the Dog Jog. My boss has offered to donate an additional $20 to the charity Canine Companions for Independence for every runner that finishes in front of me. No pressure…

May
01

Rest Report: When Better is Better than Good

By Barefoot Josh Posted in pain and injuries, pictures | 5 Comments »

Last week I wrote about the risks involved with futzing, suggesting we stick with GOOD when the sirens are singing the song of BETTER. I received a few compliments for my clarity, which is not a writing style I’m familiar with. To be honest, I don’t trust clarity, or more precisely, what we perceive as clarity. So let’s add some mud.

Right now I feel GOOD. I feel totally capable of running. In fact, I broke my running fast (cessation, not speed) last Saturday at Owl’s Roost: my volunteer duties required I jog (fine, I give up. I’ll use the word “jog.” I know when I’m beaten) about 3/4 mile to the first turn requiring a direction pointer. It felt good! I pointed all the half-marathoners one way, then the 3.5 milers streamed by with rival Richard in the lead, going the other way for an out-n-back. Just as the last runner went by, I saw Richard on his way back. I was going to need to race him to the next turn so I could point him in the right direction.

I was glad for the excuse to book it. My ankles felt stiff, but GOOD. I ran approx 1/4 mile in about 1:20 or so, a guestimate based on how fast it felt and how fast Richard’s race pace was. I was winded, but otherwise GOOD.

So if I feel GOOD, why not start running again? Because I want to feel BETTER. I want NO tightness, NO weird twinges, NO NOTHING other than the rabid desire to fly through the streets and greenways. I will start training again not when I feel GOOD, but when I feel BETTER. 100% freshy-freshness for everything.

Not counting the blips of running on Saturday, I’m on Day #9 of running exile. I’m managing alright, although the warm pre-dawn weather is really singing loudly, “la la la, let’s run, tra la la, it’ll be fun, do wop dee do, let’s race the sun.” Fortunately my shipmates have securely tied me to the mast.

Sunny isn’t too pleased, however, and misses her morning excursions.

"No run again? Fine, I'll just sit here. Sigh."

Every dog has her day, as the saying goes, and Sunny’s will be next Saturday for the Dog Jog at Country Park in Greensboro. We’ll run the 3K course as fast as we can, which I think will be around eleven minutes. If there’s even the tiniest hint of anything resembling anything other than complete 100% freshy-freshness, I’ll take an additional week off.

In the meantime, I need to practice my planks. There’s a pushup contest after Owl’s Roost, and the race director let me compete even though I didn’t race. He started to inform me that I wouldn’t be eligible for the prize if I won, but then took a look at my spindly arms and saw no need. The competition was a bunch of dudes (ladies went next) doing pushups and planks simultaneously according to the sadistic direction of the race director. My arms were shaking like crazy, and I was the second guy out. And I didn’t even race! Sad.

I was worn out just from demonstrating. The guy in the white shirt schooled us all.

Apr
29

The Cursed Shield of Moral Hazard (-3 AC)

By Barefoot Josh Posted in eureka! | 13 Comments »

“Moral hazard. Is that the phrase I’m looking for?”

The clickity-clackiting of Iris’ keyboard stops briefly. “Depends. What’s the context?” she asks with a sense of dread. She knows me well.

“Right. Here it is: the moral hazard of wearing shoes when mowing the lawn…”

“Josh.”

“… is that since we feel safer, we’ll be less cautious.”

“You’re not going to mow the lawn without shoes, are you?”

“If we’re less cautious, we’re actually less safe wearing shoes, especially considering how little protection shoes offer in a spinning-blade-of-death-gone-wrong scenario.”

“Josh.”

“I mean, really, defending the protectiveness of shoes is kind of like defending the protectiveness of the armor worn by She-Ra.”

“I really don’t want you mowing the lawn barefoot.”

“Or Red Sonja. So the only reason to wear shoes when mowing the lawn is that in the event something awful happens the awfulness won’t be blamed on bare feet. That’s not reason enough for me. In fact, I think I’m going to strive for a life free of moral hazard. If that’s the phrase I’m looking for. Is it?”

“Sigh. Yes.”

(Regular readers may remember that mowing the lawn is not generally my duty in this household, that the wife is the one who gets to play with heavy machinery while I toil away in the kitchen. Ever since she broke her finger in that fistfight with a chipmunk, opportunities for me to contribute to the family have increased.)

“Really? I just assumed I was wrong.”

“You are wrong – about thinking I’m going to let you mow barefoot. Would you at least wear sandals? That would make me feel safer.”

“EXACTLY! You’d feel like shoes would make me safer without them actually being safer. Shoes are like a Cursed Shield of Moral Hazard (-3 AC). We’d be better off without shoes if being barefoot puts us in a more fearful, ergo cautious, forthwith reality-based frame of mind.”

“Forthwith? Seriously?”

“Off to the shed I go, with sober mind and foot. I shall be a candle in this demon haunted world.”

“I hope you’re going to credit Carl Sagan for that line.”

“What do you mean?”

“This whole conversation has a very bloggy feel to it. You’ve got that glaze over your eyes that you get when you’re writing a post in your head instead of listening to me.”

“Of course I’m listening to you. Hey, will you take a picture of my grass-stained feet for the blog?”

—

Hat-tip to Bob Neinast.

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