Barefoot: Or, Why I Wear Those Funny Looking Shoes

I should maybe back up a little and tell you, really, how extraordinary it is that I run. At all.

I have tried in the course of my lifetime to run several times, and never, prior to this time, have I been successful in the least. I would go to the local Discount Shoe Barn, pick a purdy pair of "cross trainers," put on cotton gym socks, lace the whole thing up, and inevitably end 200 yards later with my knees and ankles screaming for mercy. I thought for sure I wasn't built for running.

But then, a couple of things happened. First of all, I met my husband, a former Marine, a distance runner, and a stubborn sweet talker with a penchant for persuading me to do things outside my comfort zone. Second, he started wearing these butt-ugly toe shoes and running in them, and miraculously his knee pain disappeared. And third, he thought it would be a good idea if I got a pair too, so that we could run together.

After much gentle but persistent harassment, one day, to shut him up, I watched a video of a Harvard evolutionary biologist, Dan Lieberman, explain why running shoes sucked. It featured a woman of about my build (read: like a brick shithouse) being wired up on a treadmill which recorded the comparative impact of her running stride in regular running shoes, and in these funky toe shoes. In the regular running shoes, her stride was longer and her foot struck the ground heel first. The impact on her body was incredible, a sharp peak on the monitor followed by a smaller ripple effect. In the weird shoes, her stride was shorter, and she landed mid-foot -- on the part between the toes and the heel. The monitor recorded a lower, more evenly distributed impact. This Lieberman fellow is convinced that running shoes change the body's natural running stride to our detriment, and that we are born to run . . . well, barefoot.

I thought, what the heck, and walked down to the basement, kicked off my shoes, and hopped on the treadmill.

Ten minutes later, I was ordering the funny looking shoes. Turns out, the Lieberman guy and my husband were on to something. In the funny shoes, my stride is shorter, and my foot hits the ground on the middle part of my foot. My knees don't hurt. My ankles don't hurt. It's amazing.

Yeah, they're Vibram FiveFingers. I have two pairs now, along with three pairs of funny toe socks.

They may be funny looking, but they turned me into a runner.

Maiden Voyage: Mineapolis Duathlon Fun Course, Part One

So, in a fit of . . . insanity? inspiration? both? . . . about two months ago the Husband and I signed up for the Minneapolis Duathlon Fun Course. When I announced this to my friends on facebook, and admitted I would be running 1.5 miles, biking 12 miles, and running 1.5 miles, all in one morning, I was asked why this would be considered the "Fun" course.

A year ago, I would have asked the same question. Putting on spandex and sweating excessively for a couple hours at a time didn't seem like my idea of fun either.

But then I had the epiphany that I am a type-A, goal-oriented person in all other areas of my life. Give me a deadline, and I will make. things. happen. I realized that if I applied that focus to my physical fitness, I might actually become, you know, FIT. And so I began the search for sporting events that were (1) within reason, physically speaking, (2) within reason, geographically speaking, and (3) within reason, financially speaking.

Duathlons fit all three. I have a bike. I have feet. I like ambulating on both. How bad could this be?

As it turns out, not so bad.

The Husband was going to do it "with" me (read: at the same time as me, but finishing far ahead of me) but then had to go and break his fourth metatarsal, leaving me to do the course solo, but with the side benefit of having extraordinary race support.

So we arrived in Minneapolis the day before to pick up racing chips and check in to the hotel. Minneapolis, by the way, is a lovely, green, progressive city. Very walkable and bikeable (that is, if your foot isn't broken). We stayed at the Depot, which was at one time the train station for the Hiawatha Line running between Minneapolis and (wouldn't you know it) Milwaukee. The room was lovely. The net access, not so much. Luckily, there is a coffee house steps away from the front vestibule of the hotel. Sweet.

The night before, we found a Noodles and Company and I tucked into a salad, Tuscan whole wheat linguine with grilled chicken, and a glass of wine. And lots of water. I slept like a rock.