New Trend in Running: No (or Almost No) Shoes
July 27, 2009
Filed under Running
The Lab Rat
Shoeless Joe
When it comes to running footwear, sometimes less is more.
By Nick Heil
ON A WARM MARCH DAY, in a fit of spring fever, I drove to a nearby park, whipped off my shoes and socks, and set out for a run. I wasn’t just trying to get in touch with my inner Tarahumara; I was investigating the new trend in "natural-motion" running, the purest embodiment of which involves jogging sans shoes.
I didn’t make it very far. After dodging dog droppings and rusty beer cans land-mined across a baseball outfield, I hit a dirt path that immediately began to flay my feet. Even at my tenderfoot pace, my calves knotted up like Chuck Liddell’s fists. Forget this, I thought, giving up after less than a mile, and limped back to the car to recover my smelly old kicks.
For around 40 years, running shoes have been evolving into a $4 billion industry of ever-more-sophisticated support systems involving techy foams, air bladders, springs, rubberized padding, and gel. Recently, however, there’s been a back-to-nature movement, with runners opting for minimalist shoe designs or, in extremis, no shoes at all. "Cushioning gets oversold," says Dr. Stephen Pribut, a biomechanics expert in Washington, D.C., and former president of the American Academy of Podiatric Sports Medicine. "Thinner-soled shoes can give runners important proprioceptive feedback and encourage a shorter stride and midfoot strike, all of which helps prevent injury."
Natural-motion evangelists believe our feet have become "lazy," overswaddled in unnecessary layers of fabric and foam. This allows runners to strike heavily on their heels, driving the impact of each foot plant straight up into their ankles, knees, and hips. With less shoe, the argument goes, you land on your midfoot, so your ankle and knee joints work more like shock-absorbing springs, warding off joint problems, plantar fasciitis, and even sprains. A 1997 study published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine concluded that the more heavily engineered (and, typically, more expensive) the shoe, the more likely it was to contribute to an injury.
Some proponents, like "Barefoot Ted" McDonald, of Seattle, take the trend to its limit: If less shoe is better, no shoe must be best. "The beauty of barefoot running is that there is nothing forcing your foot to do something other than what it wants to do," says McDonald, who’s run 20 marathons and ultramarathons unshod.
The first company to chase this small but growing community was Nike. In 2005, it released the Free, a shoe with so many flexible, underfoot grooves that it mimicked barefoot running. More recently, a raft of companies have followed suit with models that have lower heels and less cushioning, encouraging a barefooter’s short, springy gait.
After my discouraging attempt to go bare in the park, I eased toward full foot nudity by test-driving some of the latest: the New Balance MR800, the Newton Motion, and the Ecco Biom B. Within a few weeks, I was converted. I ran longer and faster, and with less soreness afterwards.
I decided to up the ante with the wild-looking, barely-there Vibram FiveFingers. The sole is just half a centimeter of Vibram’s sticky rubber glued to a stretchy, socklike nylon upper, with individual sleeves that wrap each toe like a tiny condom. First released in 2006 for boaters, they were quickly adopted by barefoot runners who don’t like picking shards of old Mickey’s bottles from their feet.
It took me a while to get used to the VFF’s simian appearance, but soon I began wearing them everywhere—walking my dog, going to the store, hiking nearby trails—much to the amusement of my fellow pedestrians. I still couldn’t manage to run more than a few blocks in them, but I soon felt the actual bones, tendons, and ticklish soft spots under my arch getting stronger.
It dawned on me that while I’ve long heaped attention on my core, arms, legs, and shoulders, I’d neglected the foundation of the entire system. Strong feet provide essential balance, power, and speed for a variety of sports, not just running. I began deploying the FiveFingers during drills and gym workouts, rehab exercises after spraining an ankle in a soccer game, and while padding around my house battling writer’s block.
It seems unlikely I’ll ever join the tribe of barefoot runners, but I do intend to refocus on my feet as a woefully overlooked link in my fitness chain. Sometimes it pays to rethink your basic assumptions about training. This time, my overhaul is happening from the ground up.
In the same category: The Running Shoe Debate: How Barefoot Runners are Shaping the Shoe Industry
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Why I Tri
July 25, 2009
Filed under Triathlon
By: Lori Epstein 
I’ve been intrigued by the concept of the multi-sport discipline of triathlon ever since my college girlfriend completed a race the summer after we graduated. Courtney told me stories of rushing out of work to go swimming in a nearby lake with a fellow reporter from her newspaper. Running came easily to her (she was petit and trim; I’d be shocked if she weighed one hundred pounds soaking wet), and she had grown up riding her bike around the streets of Rochester. By the way she described it, it sounded like the best summer of her life. But I was too busy, and too out of shape to even begin to consider it for myself. Maybe later. I tucked her comments away in my memory vault.
When I turned thirty, I heard Courtney’s little voice in my head encouraging me to give it a whirl. Could this be the year? I was no marathoner, but I had been participating in a lot of New York Road Runners races in Central Park, so I could certainly handle the run part of a sprint triathlon. But the more I thought about, and the more I investigated local races, I came to the conclusion that since I didn’t have a bike (even though my die-hard cyclist girlfriend Paquita guaranteed me that I’d love riding in the city), and that I really wasn’t comfortable swimming in the East River, it wasn’t likely that I’d do one. I stuck to running in the park and assuaged my guilt by enrolling in horseback riding lessons and joining a gym to vary my workouts.
A few years later, I moved down to Washington, DC and met my boyfriend. An avid cyclist, Scott encouraged me to go out riding with him. He bought me a used bike from Craigslist and from the minute I hopped on, I loved it. I probably hadn’t been on a bike since I was ten years old, and it was the most whimsical, liberating, dejavu-ish feeling I’d ever experienced. I called Paquita to tell her I was finally in the bike club! I could practically hear her smiling through the phone: “Oh, Lori! It must be love if he got you on a bike!”
Scott and I took short rides on the bike paths in DC and Virginia and gradually built up my endurance for longer rides in the Shenandoah Mountains and other nearby valleys. The more comfortable I got, the more I started to think about doing a triathlon again. Scott and I talked about it and he confided that he’d always thought about it, too. But fearing his swimming was not up to par, he stuck to duathlon events highlighting his running and biking skills. Then one day, he gifted me with a one-year membership to the DC Tri Club. The gift came with the caveat that I didn’t have to do a triathlon, but that I could use the group workouts as motivation. And if I wanted (“No pressure”), I could work towards doing one in the future. I ran to the computer to Google “public pools, Washington DC.”
That was about eight months ago, and I’m currently in training for my very first triathlon. I’ve selected an all women’s event later this summer (if for no other reason than to avoid any inadequate feelings of being lapped by sweaty, six-packed men—now I’ll just feel inadequate as sweaty, six-packed women lap me). I’m nervous, for sure, but I’ve still got plenty of time to prepare for the event in August. My girlfriend Elizabeth has done a number of sprint triathlons (sprint being the shortest-distance race: 750-meter swim, 18-mile bike, 5k run) and is helping me train. We meet once or twice a week at 6 a.m. to ride for an hour and a half and we swim in the evenings at a free pool on Capitol Hill. I know there will be a lot more women out there at the race who will do better than I will, but I’m not going to concentrate on that. I’m going to focus on doing my best and finishing so that I can tell the next generation of triathletes that this was the best summer of my life.
Photo of the author and her bike, courtesy of the author
10 Running Rules to Remember
July 14, 2009
Filed under Running
Yishane Lee
Runner’s World
1. Do Your Own Thing
Whether you’re running or racing, go your own pace, in your own space. "It gets on my nerves when people sprint ahead, then stop and walk in front of me," says a high school harrier who goes by Sonic Runner online. "When you catch back up to them, they start sprinting." Conversely, ask before you match strides. A "partner" joined Tricia Lee of Flushing, New York, for the entire length of her very first race. "He kept bumping into me—for 13.1 miles."
What annoys me? Guys that can’t handle being beat by girls and try to sprint by me at the end!" —Kelsey Scheitlin Tallahassee, Florida
2. Know Your Place
With 10.5 million people in races in 2007, starting lines get crowded, especially when ambitious (or impatient) runners and walkers start too far in front. "At the Disney marathon, there were some walkers four or five abreast, holding balloons and singing," says Stephan Pinchac of Jackson, New Jersey. "It was exhausting to get around them." If you find yourself slowing down, pull over to one side to let faster runners pass by.
3. Keep it Down
Sure, chatting helps pass the miles, but not everyone wants to eavesdrop. "I had to listen to three ladies discuss their bathroom schedules, and the impact of calcium on their you-know-what," says Margaret Vento-Wilson of Long Beach, California. Other irritants: too-loud iPods, slapping footfalls, jangling keys, and beeping heart-rate monitors. "I ran a 5K next to a guy who kept screaming, ‘Hell, hell, hell,’" says Tom McKlin of Decatur, Georgia. "It was hell!"
4. Leash Your Best Friend
Bringing your pooch to road races is discouraged by most race directors, but many of your fellow competitors won’t mind too much, as long as you keep your four-legged friend close. "At a crowded 8K last fall, a guy running with two dogs refused to tighten up their leashes, so they were constantly moving around and tripping people," says Gwyneth Shaw of Tucson. And no dog imitating, either, please. "A guy at the Lilac Bloomsday Run, in Spokane, Washington, barked like a dog for 7.46 miles," says John Hildebrand of Saint Regis, Montana.
5. Watch Your Step
There is a reason why aid stations are often on both sides of crowded race courses—so you don’t have to cut people off to get to them. "One year at the Lilac Bloomsday, a young runner crossed right in front of me to get to one of the tables, forcing me to come to a near-abrupt stop," says Rod Steadman of Spokane. "After a sip or two, he did it again!" Doing a run-walk plan? "Pull over to the side so you don’t hurt someone behind you," says Laresa McIntyre of Singer Island, Florida.
"To the guy at the Napa marathon who used his cell to let his friends know the view at mile 14 was great: Please hang up the phone!" —Ron Harvey Tracy, California
6. Aim Fluids Carefully
Yes, sometimes the fastest thing running is your nose. But please, focus on where you aim your snot rocket, or your spit. "One guy actually nailed me with a giant loogey during a training run on a path," says Wendy Shulik of Chicago. "I was behind him, unfortunately. I’ve also been splattered by spitters during many a race. So gross!" Also watch where you toss your half-finished cup of water. "I have never had blisters so huge, thanks to the butterfingers who poured a cupful down the back of my legs during the Miami Marathon," says Chris Sahs of Miami.
7. Don’t Stink
"I once got stuck on a treadmill next to a person who reeked of smoke," says C.J. Epperson. Unpleasant odors carry outdoors, too. It should go without saying, but wear clean clothes and limit your use of personal products. "I ran the Chicago Marathon next to a guy who had slathered on smelly menthol stuff," says Pat Agnello of Brook Park, Ohio. "Phew-ee!" Runners tend to be forgiving of bodily functions, but there’s a limit. "I ran behind a guy who smelled like he ate a ton of bean burritos and drank a gallon of green chile before the race," Joe McLennan of Denver says. "He stunk, bad."
8. Dress for Your Mom
Unless it’s part of the program, as with San Francisco’s Bay to Breakers, refrain from silly costumes and minimalist attire. "Some friends and I ran the ING Georgia Marathon in Atlanta last year, and if you were there, you’ll remember the guy who was wearing nothing but a canary-yellow Speedo," Tom McKlin of Decatur, Georgia says. "Mr. Banana Hammock was a little doughy, and once the sweat seeped through the Speedo…let’s just say that parents were covering their children’s eyes."
9. No Whining
"The ones who quit a quarter of the way through a race because they’re tired—or worse, not beating everyone else—now that’s infuriating!" says Coyla Coblentz of Geneva, Indiana. Lapsed runners who have quit running entirely because they think it has wrecked some aspect of their bodies—and remind you repeatedly it will happen to you, just you wait!—deserve special opprobrium. Michael Chertoff, the secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, notes that his boss warns him off running all the time. The president, he says, "consistently tells me that I’m going to ruin my knees and that I should start to bike. I tell him I’m going to run as long as I can."
"I hate it when people yell, ‘You’re nearly there!’ when there are still several miles to go. When there’s no finish line in sight, I’m not ‘nearly there’!" —Heather Shea Danbury, Connecticut
10. Just Run
"The most annoying runners are those who are sure their way is the only way—no headphones, no loud talking, no this, no that," says Susan Funk of Mystic, Connecticut. "Better to see more people out and exercising than defining who is doing it ‘right.’" Adds Cindy Cauzzort of Zephyrhills, Florida, "I don’t mind making room for someone faster or going around someone slower. After all, we are only in competition with ourselves. It’s not about winning—it’s about finishing what you start."
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