Distance Minimally - Going the Distance with Less

Distance uni cover story in Tail Winds magazine

Fri, 05 Mar 2010 15:47:00 -0500

And a barefoot running story to boot! Check out the great Tail Winds cover shot by Brad Jones at RB Jones Photography, and the articles on pages 10 and 11 about Max and my 109 mile ride of El Tour de Tucson and my record barefoot running of the Dean Karnazes Rock n Roll 50k.

Here’s the direct link

(For the record, we don’t know any circus songs and Vibram Five Fingers are not “just like running barefoot”)

Energy efficient walking

Thu, 04 Mar 2010 11:56:00 -0500

[Update 1: Minor text updates and added write up to this post instead of just linking to the original post]

Recently there was a study by Dr. David Carrier on the efficiency of different foot positions while walking, most notably a heel-strike vs a forefoot strike. The results showed that heel striking was more efficient than forefoot striking while walking. Many, particularly in the barefoot community, disagreed with some of his methods and results. In particular the choice of a forefoot strike that did not have the heel drop fully to the ground struck many as different than the forefoot strike that they might use with the heel dropping completely to the ground.

I did a little experiment to begin looking at these questions that have been raised. The initial experiment was very small, just a cursory look at the question, but it replicated Carrier’s results and gave an initial answer to the question of whether an alternate footstrike would have shown different results. In this preliminary experiment, a heel strike walking gait was more efficient than a forefoot strike with or without the heel contacting the ground, and there was not a significant difference between efficiency of a forefoot strike with and without the heel contacting the ground.

This article at present is placeholder for one that I intend to expand upon with a less hurried experiment, analysis, and write-up than I post here, but for now here is a cleaned up copy of post where I quickly describe it.

“Some new science about how we evolved to walk”

Very quick write up of a very quick experiment.

Short version: In my own little experiment heel strike was more
efficient than ball-heel-ball or the low-digitgrade from Carrier’s
paper, while the ball-heel-ball and low-digitgrade did not
significantly differ. One subject with three measurements on three
gaits.

Long version:

Heart rate monitor used to measure energy expenditure on treadmill set
to 3.5mph.

Heel-strike (plantigrade), Ball-heel-ball, and Forefoot strike (low-
digitgrade) compared.

3 minute warmup on each, one minute of observation with 3 data points
at 30 second intervals, 3 minute seated rest between observations.

ANOVA comparison of bpm by gait, bpm was significantly affected by
gait.

Mean(sd) of each:
Heel strike: 102.33(1.53)
Ball-heel-ball: 115.33(2.08)
Forefoot strike: 117.67(2.08)

T-test for pairwise comparisons.
Heel strike v. ball-heel-ball: p=0.0014
Heel strike v. Forefoot: p=0.0008
Ball-heel-ball v. Forefoot: p=0.2417

Heel strike was significantly lower than either ball-heel-ball or
forefoot, while ball-heel-ball and forefoot did not significantly
differ.

"World Record" has a nice ring to it!

Mon, 01 Mar 2010 14:17:00 -0500

It turns out that January’s barefoot 50K at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Ultra 50K with a time of 4:14:52 was enough to earn the title of “World Record” for fastest barefoot 50K kept on Barefoot Ken Bob’s Running Barefoot site.

I have to admit, this didn’t even occur to me, even when I realized that my run had a place on his results page, until Ken Bob responded by pointing out that it was the fastest on record. This got me wondering, what am I really capable of as a barefoot ultrarunner?

At this month’s One Day Run For Hunger, I will be running barefoot/minimalist for 24 hour hours to raise money to fight hunger in our communities. I’ve run a 100 mile mountainous trail ultramarathon in Vibram Five Fingers, so I’m confident that I have what it takes to run at least 100 miles in 24 hours without running shoes. My question becomes: how far can I go barefoot?

Long ultramarathons are already full of unknowns. Adding in the factor of extending my barefoot mileage would increase those unknowns, but could well earn me a world record for farthest barefoot run in a 24 hour timed event.

There are challenges that I would not have included if I set this up to set a world record. Existing records have been set on smooth cushy tracks, while this is a groomed trail with a stretch of gravel on the loop course I’m a bit concerned about. I’ve done gravel on similar courses without issue, but I don’t know how happy I would be happy to run over it 100 times.

Tell me what you think. Play it safe or set the bar high? As I’ve already said, I will be toeing the line barefoot and running the whole thing without shoes. I already have it in mind to see what I can do with just me feet. But I’m curious to hear from you.

Let me know here, on the Facebook group, or even on the One Day Run For Hunger fund raising page.

Hagg Lake 50K - a nice and muddy run

Sat, 27 Feb 2010 18:45:00 -0500

This was the last of my usual races where I took of my shoes. Last year, after I had long been running barefoot/minimalist at all of my other races, I just wasn’t sure about all that mud. My feet had been soaked in my Vibram Five Fingers at the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run in September 2008, and blistered in a way that I didn’t think happened to me in VFFs. So in February 2009 I decided to wear New Balance 790s, purchased for possible use in my 2009 100 miler that I eventually ran in VFFs, just to be safe. In the year since, however, my commitment to minimalist and barefoot running increased, and I had even toyed with running the race barefoot. Other events on my day’s calendar didn’t allow me the time to confidently set out barefoot though, and so I decided to wear my Trek KSOs. I figured the Treks would provide a little traction in all the mud this course is known for, but I also had my regular KSOs on hand with a new pair of socks if I needed to change because of any hot spots or blisters from wet feet. With that I set off on what five years earlier was my first ultramarathon, the Hagg Lake 50K.

The trail around the lake is a bit under 15 miles, so there is an out-and-back on road at the beginning. It’s mostly on gravel going up a big hill, just to make sure we don’t get the wrong idea about the race being too easy just because it’s mostly “flat”. As usual I was racing to the start when the cow bell sounded and sent the runners on their way. And so I started dead last without my number on or pins to put it on. It started in my hands, and then was shoved into my pocket with plans to get pins when we passed by the start again, and was only dug out of my pocket again for the finish.

A pleasant surprise early in the course was that instead of detouring onto the road early in the loop around the lake, as we had done for the last 5 years, we crossed a creek where the bridge had been out all the previous years. The bridge was still out, but we were given a way across and a volunteer was on hand to make sure we made it successfully. Then onward around the lake.

I was going at a chipper pace, but didn’t feel like I was overdoing it. About 15 miles into the race, however, I faded a little hard. It didn’t feel like I had run too hard, it felt more like I was just having a tough time making it past “the wall” to efficient fat metabolism. The group of runners I was leading all eventually passed me and I settled in with the cohort of runners behind us. I was also playing my nutrition a little fast and loose for this “short” race, having mostly “sports food” rather than focusing as much as possible on water and fruit and then spiking that with extra calories as needed. At the last aid station on the first loop I switched to my “cleaner” eating, made sure to get some electrolytes, and would drop my hat and gloves off by my car before starting the second loop.

Like an annual tradition, the winner of the 25K came charging up behind me as I ran the last bit of trail before starting the second loop. I seem to run about 30K of a casual muddy 50K almost exactly one hour slower than the fastest runners run 25K on the same course. After changing things up a bit I began to feel better, and was able to start pushing the pace again. Doing some math I saw that a sub-5 hour finish was in my reach, something I’d only done once in the 5 previous times I’d run this course, and that motivated me to keep my pace up. It was a bit tough at times with the mud bogs and slippery slopes. I was passing people again, and started catching glimpses of some of that cohort ahead of me that had left me behind. I’m not competitive in my running, but passing people still feels good. On my second loop through the muddiest part of the course, in the last 7 miles of the race, I stopped dodging the deep mud and puddles and just pushed through. I had a pace to keep up.

I managed to get in the middle of the now diffuse cohort I had been running with before, ahead of some and behind others, and really started charging in the last couple miles. I hadn’t started my watch for a few minutes after the race started, so I didn’t know exactly how much time I had left before 5 hours, but I knew it was close. It felt good to run fast, and to be able to run fast. I wondered what my time would have been like if I’d been able to run to exhaustion instead of spending some time in the middle in an extended “ultramarathon moment”. I crossed the finish at 5:02:23 on the official clock.

Running in something other than shoes still gets quite a bit of attention, but I noticed with this race people had heard of it. Many knew me, as my reputation as a barefoot runner has spread in our running community, and of course there has been much media attention to the topic. Instead of being outside the box I was a living breathing running example of something many had only read about, but at least most had that exposure. Some people thought my muddy Vibrams were bare feet under all that muck. Next time?

One day run without shoes to fight hunger

Wed, 24 Feb 2010 22:07:00 -0500

Beginning on the morning of Saturday 20 March 2010, I will be running for 24 hours at the Pacific Rim One Day Run raising money to fight hunger. I will be toeing the line barefoot, and will run the whole race without shoes. I hope to run 100 miles, and raise $10 per mile. Contributions will go to the Oregon Food Bank through Firstgiving.

Can you sponsor one or more miles to help me reach my goal of raising $1000 for the hungry in our communities?

Visit One Day Run For Hunger at http://www.firstgiving.com/onedayrunforhunger

Thanks!

Run Oregon article about me on The Oregonian's website

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:18:30 -0500

After exchanging a few emails with Kelly Johnson from the OregonLive.com’s Run Oregon blog, a nice write up about my development as a barefoot runner was posted this weekend. I think Kelly did about as good a job as any I’ve seen on discussing the topic, as well as my reasoning for and experience with it. Enjoy!

Interview with Oregon barefoot Runner Leif Rustvold

Barefoot at the Rock 'n' Roll Ultra 50K in Phoenix

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 17:35:37 -0500

Add to the list of forthcoming race reports this weekend’s Inaugural Dean Karnazes Rock ‘n’ Roll Ultra 50K, part of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona Marathon events. Briefly, it was a well planned and executed 50K, even if it was a bit odd to do our extra 4.85 miles at the start and then line up with the other runners for the regular marathon start. It was nice to have the ultra-amenities as could be provided to the smaller 50K group, including mingling with the run’s namesake himself. Dean Karnazes seems like a stand up guy, although he sticks pretty close to his Ultramarathon Man shtick. I thought he might be interested in chatting with another runner pushing the boundaries, as it seems to me a barefoot ultramarathoner is doing, but it seemed like a distinct non-subject to this North Face sponsored shoe endorsing running personality. That said, he gave me a fist bump and a sincere “good race man” after I came through the finish a few moments after him, with a glance at the not-to-be-mentioned bare feet. The race itself was enjoyable and well planned. A nice tour of the Phoenix metropolitan area, good replenishment along the course, enjoyable bands, and spectator presence throughout the course. The marathon environment pushed me to run harder than I usually do in the more relaxed ultra environment, and I set a PR by an impressive margin. I exceeded my best expected time of 4:30 to come in just under 4:15. My feet treated me well, with only some rough asphalt in the last blocks giving me any real pause. Rather my legs and general energy stores ran low before my soles did, leading me to slow a bit in the last miles. Not having my feet be the limiting factor in a barefoot 50K was an exciting testament to the ability to run extreme distances without shoes. At the end of the race, I relaxed with a beverage that it would be overly generous to call “beer”, provided free to race participants, and listened to the live musical stylings of my hometown’s Everclear. Friend and photographer Brad Jones was on hand to document the run for an upcoming article in Tailwinds magazine. All in all it was a very pleasant visit to Arizona, an enjoyable race, and I left with a great sense of accomplishment with my first barefoot ultramarathon performance.

Photos from November's 109 Mile El Tour de Tucson by Unicycle

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 13:20:00 -0500

The race report from November’s El Tour de Tucson is in the works, but I can’t resist passing along some photos from the event taken by Brad Jones at RB Jones Photography. Expect to see his work documenting our ride in an upcoming issue of Tailwinds magazine!

http://rbjonesphotography.zenfolio.com/unigallery

Race Report: 2009 ORRC Turkey Trot

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 01:45:12 -0500

On Thanksgiving 2009, my family went to the Portland Zoo for our third three-generation running and walking of the Turkey Trot. Below you can see me, ready with the rickshaw, and my father saying some last words to my girls before we took off running. Despite the look in the picture, they actually can see out with the rain cover on the chariot!

And, of course, I ran the 4 mile fun-run barefoot. It was cooler than other runs I had done to date, but I’d been spending plenty of time out and about barefoot as Fall settled here in Oregon so I was ready.

The course begins with a slight uphill, and then about a mile of steep downhill before turning around and charging back up that hill and into the zoo for the finish. I positioned myself toward the back of the starting lineup, answered questions about running barefoot for the curious runners, and then we were off!

Starting so far back in the crowd, it wasn’t long before we were seeing people coming the other way on their way back from the turnaround point. It was entertaining, as I’d never had a chance to hear so many people’s first response to seeing me. People around me usually first noticed the rickshaw, as I pull about 100 extra pounds between the hardware and my daughters, and then add “annnnd … he’s barefoot.” Runners coming at me from the front uniformly have one word bubble out of their mouth. ”Barefoot!”

Going down the hill with the crowd, I had to hold the weight of the rickshaw back. Especially after runners started coming back the other way there was little room for passing. Finally we made it to the bottom, I raced past the water stop, and started working up that hill. Running up a big hill pulling all that extra weight is quite a challenge, and my whole body responded like I was running a sustained sprint. That said, a couple I know from the Oregon Trail Ultramarathon Series ran with me a bit and I was able to sustain an effortful conversation before they continued on past me. It always feels good to rise to a challenge. All that hard work, with the weight and the climbing, was noticeable on my feet too. I took great joy in stomping barefoot in puddles as I found them.

Finally I crested the hill and began the descent into the zoo. Twists and tuns through the familiar sites, and I finish in 46 minutes and change. It’s hard to interpret that time, what with the multiple unique challenges of the run, but I know I had a great time and pushed my limits.

Now it was time for our new tradition of the kids run. I put my cold feet into Vibram Five Fingers, and my father and I took my two girls for their first race with both of them running. The younger made it back to the finish first, but the older ran more of the course.

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving!

Guest blogger Max Taint: The Tequila 50

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 01:06:51 -0500

A ride report from my distance unicycle riding partner, Max Taint, about our 24 October training ride for El Tour de Tucson. He sent it to me way back on 28 October:

Leif is one of my few Unicycle Bastard friends (www.unicyclebastards.com) interested in distance unicycling and we have been training for and riding in centuries for a couple of years now. Our next long ride is the Tour De Tucson 109 mile century - and I for one am not feeling ready.

We both wanted to and intended to do more training rides than we have, but we have both been distracted by new athletic obsessions: I’ve been riding nothing but my new tall tandem bike and Zeke, well, as this new blog demonstrates, he’s gone batshit nuts for barefoot running. We both agreed that we had time for a 50-mile training ride on our 36” unicycles. The route we chose was relatively flat and we established that there would be no particular time or speed goal, but it was just to get some much needed saddle time.

If we were normal, sensible and conservative distance unicycle riders, we would have left it at that, but we felt the need to tinker with reality to design a flatland 50 mile ride that “feels” more like the last 50 miles of a brutal 109 mile ride in the desert sun. This altered state ride became known as the Tequila 50:

The Tequila 50 recipe:

1. Meet other Unicycle Bastards downtown to see the movie Zombieland.

2. Bring a wide-mouth water bottle of Tequila to share. Fact: Tequila in a water bottle gets consumed nearly as quickly as water!

3. Visit two bars afterwards and then Leif and I part ways:

4. Leif wisely decides to leave his car downtown and get a taxi home. I take another route to further prepare myself for the Tequila 50: I take part in a late night eight-mile off road unicycle ride in the Forest Park, I insist on riding a particularly steep ivy covered ravine again and again until I make it down without crashing. I only give up when I cut my leg open, bruise an ankle and fall into a huge pile of dog shit pretty much in one fluid motion of drunkenness. As I sit on the Max train, bleeding into my shoe on the way home, I wonder why people won’t sit next to me??

Now that the important pre ride preparations were completed at 1:30 AM, both of us dropped into a night of poor sleep with little restorative benefit.

The Tequila 50 started at 7:00 AM with our route taking us from the Hollywood area in NE Portland to the Willamette River along the Esplanade and out to rural Gresham along the Springwater Corridor and back again. The ride began with no smiles, none of the usual sophomoric humor about taints, chamois butter, or the effects of distance unicycling on male anatomy. We just got our hydration packs on and start riding. We started off this ride looking and feeling like the zombies in the movie we watched the night before. And when we heard that dreaded bit of tired humor that any unicycle rider gets from others: “Where is your other wheel?” I wasn’t surprised that our response was more of a zombie growl than any other recognizable reply.

At mile 20, we start to feel more alive and this confirms one of my theories that the best cure for a hangover is to get the blood pumping and go for a ride. The trip to Gresham took a little longer than usual and Leif started noticing some knee pain on the return trip, which slowed us down a bit more. By design, the Tequila 50 was supposed to provide a rough start where you don’t feel great and the miles would come slowly at first at the end of the ride, you felt like you just finished a century. I think these meager objectives were achieved. Next: Tour De Tucson 109 miles in November.

Note: Under no circumstances should readers interpret this blog post as an endorsement of the mixing of alcohol or Tequila with any distance athletic event. The authors use of performance reducing substances was an experiment, a lark, and others might say … a half-baked idea, hatched by individuals looking to make the most efficient use of the time invested in training rides and ultimately … just having a good time.

Happy trails, Maxwell Taint

"Hope you got your flu shot!"

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 14:48:39 -0400

“Hope you got your flu shot!”

- the most baffling response I got about running yesterday’s race barefoot

What's next?

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 11:23:00 -0400

I’ve recovered from my “feats of the feet” back to back minimalist/barefoot adventures in late September and early October. I still have my final reflections on those runs as a pair that I’m working on, part 4 in my 4 part series, but it’s a hard one for me.

Fall is here in earnest. My wife suggested doing the Run Like Hell event here in Portland. It seemed like a good chance to do a barefoot half marathon, and why not do it pulling my girls in a rickshaw? We made it a family affair, with my son in the stroller that my wife pushed. With her in her Vibrams and I with bare feet, we were quite a presence. Last week we did the Catalyst Challenge 10K by Reason to Run, so we had our whole family race day routine down.

(photo by Reason to Run)

I look forward to finding some pictures from today. The Run Like Hell event is halloween themed, and I asked myself what a barefoot guy pulling a rickshaw should go as? Deciding to stay clearly in the bounds of political correctness, most people suggesting an ethnic costume, I opted for Fred Flintstone. It went over great.

Now, you might say that pulling a ~100lb cart on a hilly half marathon makes for a pretty tough day, and I’m not going to disagree with you there. But why not go for a 50 mile unicycle ride the day before? And why not do that the morning after an evening of perhaps too exuberant celebration? It was not the most restful of weekends in our home.

Despite all of that the run went great. I had no point of reference for how I would do. I’d never raced a half marathon. I’d never gone that far with the rickshaw. I’d never unicycled to exhaustion after an equal portion of exuberant celebration before my main event of the weekend. And in the end I exceeded my highest expectations about how I would do. I was not reduced to walking over the big hill in the second half, I did not face mutiny from the girls I had in tow (although one did try to rally the other into rebellion). I finished in 2:10. It was a reinforcement of the message that crosses my mind somewhere in the course of each activity that Distance Minimally is about. We can do more than we think we can.

A shout out to my friend Ben who gave support on those successes. We spotted each other at the start of the race and spontaneously ran together for the event. He befriended my daughters and helped to entertain them when they grew restless. He gave encouragement when the large hills began to wear me down. By the end he was jumping invisible hurdles to keep the girls occupied. Top notch.

And now, I’m less than a month away from my next Big Event. The 109 mile El Tour de Tucson, which I will be completing with riding partner (and fellow Bastard [PG-13]) Max. Then the Rock n Roll Arizona Marathon in January will kick off my 2010 calendar. After this unique and successful year, and with some unique opportunities (such as automatic entry into Western States) and date changes next year (such as Angeles Crest more or less conflicting with Where’s Waldo), 2010 will have some big changes in my schedule and goals compared to recent years. I might try some new races, and look forward to growing as a barefoot runner.

But the greatest additions to my race routine are the family races we’ve been doing. I look forward to more of these fun-for-all events!

An amazing example of going the distance with less

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 11:12:59 -0400

Most of the challenges described here on Distance Minimally involve chosen constraints, deciding to make do without gear that most endurance athletes consider essential to their sport. This week, in what must be the Distance Minimally Performance Of The Year, Amy Palmiero-Winters was the women’s winner of the Heartland 100 Mile Endurance Run. A below-the-knee amputee, she finished with a customized running prosthesis.

(photo from ultrarunning.com)

This finish would have been an inspiration no matter the placement among the finishers. By winning Amy truly showed that constraints don’t have to hold you back, they only change the game.

Barefoot at the Portland Marathon

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 12:23:00 -0400

This is part three in a four part report on my recent barefoot/minimalist running. The first part detailed my unshod journey - how I took off my shoes. The second part was a detailed race report of the “Hundred in the Hood” in Vibrams, in which I ran the PCT Ultra 100 Mile Endurance Run wearing Vibram Five Fingers. This post provides a detailed race report of my barefoot running of the Portland Marathon. The fourth and final post will give my less detailed impressions of reaching these two minimalist accomplishments on back-to-back weekends and where I see myself going from here. I hope you enjoy the race report!

One week after running the “Hundred in the Hood” PCT100, my feet seemed ready to run again. I had come out with a couple of blisters right behind the toes that were my main concern. But after a week they had recovered to a point that they were not going to stop me from going down to the Portland Marathon start line. I was positively non-committal about finishing. I had run the marathon as little as two weeks after a 100 mile trail run, but cutting that recovery time in half for my tired body and battle worn feet to set out on my first barefoot marathon was not something that I was sure I could do. I saw myself finishing, but I wasn’t committing to it.

The morning of 4 October 2009 came, race day. I got online and saw reference to lots of rain. It had rained all morning but the hours of the race still looked like good weather. I made sure I had a jacket, and wondered how the wet streets would affect my run. I have done all of my barefoot training in Summer. Mostly in the Summer of 2009 when I set out on a training plan to get my feet and form ready for a barefoot marathon, but also all of my other attempts at barefoot running. All in all I wasn’t too concerned.

I make it downtown, park at the local university when I see the usual backup of traffic with marathoners trying to park as close to the start as possible, and start making my final decisions. Rain? No. Leave the jacket. Race “chip” loop thingy? Use the zip tie I’ve positioned on my left ankle. Drop bag to wear sweats to and from the start/finish? No. I head down to the start ready to race.

The conversations start immediately. A group of Japanese girls make comments I can’t understand and give off a flurry of surprised laughs. People ask me if I’m running the whole way barefoot. People ask me if I trained barefoot. People ask me why, Why, WHY? I do my best to answer with levity and humor. One woman says her son has Vibram Five Fingers and will be thrilled to hear about me. A woman with an Australian accent shouts the name of a barefoot runner - I didn’t hear which one but she said “he was a famous barefoot runner!” I find my way to the lineup of runners, position myself near the 4:15 pace group, and settle into longer conversations with the runners around me. I’m near a man who has run one marathon in Southern California and has come to Portland with a friend for this marathon. I discover that mentioning last weekend’s 100 mile run doesn’t feel like the right way to proceed in conversation. Many things about today are new.

As the start approaches, people start jumping the fence to get into position. Up until this point the cold of the street on my feet has been my main concern, but now I’m worried about somebody landing on my toes. We all get into place without incident, and we hear the first firing of the start gun. And another. And another. We’re starting in waves. Finally our section of runners is moving and I cross the chip-reading mat. I start the stopwatch on my phone and we’re off.

The cold wet road feels funny on my feet. I can’t tell if I feel more or less than usual. I hope that I’m not altering my form as a result because that could make for a long day. Temperature changes have caused me to blister before due to changes in running form. I settle into my pace and stop worrying. Things are feeling good. The questions pick up again now that the runners are mingling past each other. I discover that when somebody asks if I’ve run a marathon barefoot before, and I say “no”, that this seems to let them totally ignore me as somebody else’s problem. A couple of miles into the run I’ve made it into some real conversation. A woman goes beyond the “are you running all the way barefoot” and “have you done this before” to ask the meaty question “why?” I explain about how we’re made to run, how shoes are largely incompatible with that way of running, and my desire to avoid injuries. Another runner saddles up beside me. Avoid injuries? What do I think about shin splints? Am I concerned about staff infection? I do my best to answer these questions, and get into another great conversation. This woman is an assistant track coach, and seems interested in my combination of reasoning and applied experience. We chat a bit more, giving the brief runner biographies that get exchanged during a marathon, and then part ways again. A man and woman in orange ask me if I’m making a point by running barefoot. I say no and ask if they’re making a point by running in orange. They say no, but say that I should do this to raise money for a cause. They seem experienced in such things and I tell them about the blog. A man who seemed to think that some barefoot runners on the Run Hit Wonder 10K were crazy points out that at least the street is wet for me, providing less friction. I point out that the goal is to set the foot down and lift it up, that friction was not a real concern with proper form. He points out that it will be better for me because there is less friction. A woman is very excited to run with Barefoot Guy (the whole town seems to have got together and agreed that this is what they would call me). She shouts at her son to take pictures of us together as we pass him. A man who has read Christopher McDougal’s Born To Run takes the opportunity to question a living breathing barefoot runner. People on the side of the road are very excited about Barefoot Guy. A woman asks why I’m barefoot and believes me when I joke that I forgot my shoes. A man talks to me about meditation retreats, seeming to sense that Barefoot Guy has something in common with him that many other runners don’t. I try to respond to positive and original comments throughout the day. I cross paths with the assistant coach again, and we settle into conversation in its long form. We chat about all things marathon and plenty of things barefoot along the industrial out-and-back, through NW Portland, and onto St. Helens Rd. We pass the half way mark and make it a couple more miles toward St. Johns Bridge. Many of the routine comments go unanswered as we are engrossed in conversation. Finally I need to make a pit stop and she continues on.

So far my run has been uneventful aside from the unique conversations. The coldness of my feet passes and I seem to adjust fine to the wet road. I’m not too tired from last weekend’s run, and seem to be maintaining a steady pace (looking at my results afterward would support this, I was like a metronome). I was feeling some body friction that I worried would alter my form, but some petroleum jelly took care of that. I wished I had a steady supply of carbs to insure my fuel level, but I seemed to be doing fine. People are slowing down on the approach to the St. Johns Bridge, but I’m just getting warmed up. I start a lot of passing. The results stat page would say I passed 797 people after the half-marathon mark and 31 passed me. Looking back I can believe it. I didn’t get much faster but I think a lot of people started slowing down. I’m looking forward to the stretch from the St. Johns Bridge to mile 21 or so where a lot of pictures will be taken.

Now that I’m a good ways into the run there doesn’t seem to be the doubt that people had at the start. I hear a lot more people calling me crazy though. There are great crowds over here and they’re all very excited about Barefoot Guy. I try to return the favor. As people start hitting the wall I hear more comments from those around me. Some say “at least I’m not barefoot like that guy.” Some say “even Barefoot Guy is doing better than me!” I get used to a wide range of exclamations as people realize they’ve been passed by Barefoot Guy. Some say “how’s being barefoot treating you?” And I say, “fine, how are those shoes treating you?” Some say just fine, some say not so fine. I ask if they’ve thought of taking them off. And of course there are plenty of people on the sidelines saying “OWWWW” or “doesn’t that hurt?” I laugh it off and tell them “it’s like a massage!” As I pass 20 miles though, the furthest I’ve run barefoot, I can tell my feet are starting to get tender. Nothing that bothers me, and good interactions with the crowd and runners can distract me from the tenderness. I’m happy to be approaching the final stretch of the marathon though.

By mile 23 I’m working for each mile I run. I’m still having good conversations and running fine, but the soles of my feet have become the limiting factor in my run. Suddenly I don’t find it so funny when people say how much running barefoot must hurt. Not that its at all unbearable, but I realize that everybody else is told “you can do it”, “you’re awesome”, and “you’re almost there!” I’m getting “doesn’t that hurt”, “OWWWWW”, and “you’re crazy!” The equivalent would be if they said to the other runners “aren’t your legs tired?”, “I’ll bet you want to stop running”, and “aren’t you tired?” Why is it OK to demotivate Barefoot Guy? I start yelling back at them. ”Is that supportive?” or “Is that what I want to hear?” I wonder if my nickname is about to change to Barefoot Dick. One of the runners I’ve changed places with for 10 miles or so comes up beside me and jokes “you do know about the 0.2 miles of hot coals and glass at the end, right?” We laugh about it and I ask if there will be syringes too. I’m beginning to slow down as the last mile is on particularly rough pavement and some of those 31 people probably pass me at this point. But the crowd is now thick and they’re very excited about Barefoot Guy. There’s only two more turns, and it seems that with every step the crowd is getting larger. My pace picks up again, I know how close I am, I have the smile of a person about to complete a momentous goal. I’m not charging ahead trying to come in ahead of any additional runners I am able to. I’m just happy to cruise into the finish.

And finish I do. In about 4:10. I don’t hear my name called. I don’t hear what I had written in the comments of my race registration. That this is my 10th Portland Marathon and my first barefoot marathon. But that doesn’t take away the fact that I have indeed made this accomplishment. I get my medal, space blanket, pin, and take a bottle of chocolate milk. I notice that I’ve got blisters on my toes. That’s never happened before, but it doesn’t hurt and this whole thing is a learning process. I decide that instead of grazing on the food at the finish I’ll head home to share this time with my family. It seems to take forever to make it out of the fenced off finish area, but I finally do and am among the finishers scattering out across town. A couple tells me that they ran a half marathon the weekend before. I decide I can mention again the race I ran the weekend before too.

I’ve run many marathons and even more ultramarathons. This would have been a rather routine marathon at a training pace if I hadn’t decided to follow through and run it barefoot. It was not my plan to run a marathon the week after a 100 mile trail run, but the result of chance. I was signed up for the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run until it was canceled due to wildfires. The PCT100 was scheduled for the next week, and I was happy to be able to run it. I expected my first barefoot marathon to get pushed to my next marathon, but not being one to arbitrarily say “I can’t” I decided to try this marathon anyways. I’m very happy I did. As a pair these two runs have convinced me just what great things we are capable of as we are made!

Barefoot Portland Marathon - the short report

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 20:54:00 -0400

I’ve got my race report all written from my first barefoot marathon, the Portland Marathon on 4 October 2009. I’ve just been waiting for some pictures to add to the final posting.

The brief report is that I ran the marathon barefoot with success and finished in 4:10. I feel great about the accomplishment. This is not only because running a marathon barefoot reaches such a momentous goal, but because I managed to do it despite my schedule shifting around to put it one week after my 100 mile trail run.

Report to come!

Edit 20091009 - The first official pictures are up!

Who has completed a 100 mile unicycle ride?

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 12:56:13 -0400

There’s a long running thread on the usenet newsgroup rec.sports.unicycling titled “Who has completed a 100 mile ride?” with the purpose of logging the answer to that question. As of today, 8 October 2009, the list includes 47 names:

Peter Bier
David Stone
Roger Davies
Alan Chambers
Steve Colligan
Mark Wiggins
Takayuki Koike (record holder 6hrs44min)
Lars Clausen
Ken Looi
Floyd Beattie
Johnnie Severin
Cathy Fox
Bruce Dawson
Jack Hughes
Dan Heaton
Scot Cooper
Sam Wakeling
Chuck Edwall
Joe Marshall
John Himsworth
Gracie Sorbello
Rowan Chivers
Tony Melton
Tim Lee
Joe Lind
Rob Muellerleile
Irene Genelin
Beau Hoover
Nathan Hoover
Mike Scalisi
Ryan Woessner
?~Xivind Johansen
Kjetil Juul Pedersen
James Amon
Leif Rustvold
Max Taint
Mark Osmundo
Mike Tierney
Joseph Sherman
Roland Kays
Claude Magnuson
Jan Logemann
Zeke Boisei
Paul Stacey
Joe Myers
Matthew Huber
Tom Blackwood

Congratulations to all of these distance minimalists!

You can keep track of the conversation via your favorite usenet newsreader, or on the thread at Unicyclist.com which seems to do a better job of keeping the thread intact than the version on Google Groups. Of course new additions to this list make news here at Distance Minimally as well!

"Hundred in the 'Hood" in Vibram Five Fingers, PCT100 Race Report

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 14:50:00 -0400

I’ve never been good at writing race reports. Maybe I’d be better at an interpretive dance, or a song in the style of Ewok Celebration that combines a sort of speaking in tongues with story telling and impersonation with a driving beat. Alas, I’m really no good at those either but now I have two momentous runs backlogged that I’ve promised I would document. In a way they stand together as one feat of the feet. Here is my report on the first of those runs.

In the first report of this 4-part story I described my progression as a barefoot/minimalist runner. If you’ve read that then I’ve already given away how this ends, and since I just pointed the reader towards it I’ll let the cat out of the bag. Over the course of the last two weekends I ran a 100+ mile trail ultramarathon in Vibram Five Fingers for the first time followed by a road marathon barefoot for the first time.

I ran the “Hundred In The Hood” PCT Ultra 100 Mile Endurance Run on 26-27 September 2009. I ran it in Vibram Five Finger KSO Treks, making this my first successful 100 mile run without running shoes. I had run portions of this course many times, including three times previously in Vibram Five Fingers (VFFs). Because of the course change of the 50 mile version of the event in 2009 I had only run a full 50 miles of this course once, and that one time was also in VFFs. The early morning start provided a new challenge on the course, being the first time I had run it in the dark. I was equipped with two strong lights, the Petzl MYO RXP on my head and Petzl Tikka Plus on my waist. After kicking a log or stump or something that cracked in a way that I hoped wasn’t my little toe during the 2009 Where’s Waldo 100K, I realized that seeing the trail well would be one of the most important measures to take in running 100 miles without running shoes. I was also lucky enough to get the KSO Treks before Vibram said they would be available, and even had enough time to go for a decent run in them to get a feel for how they performed. And they performed great. At first I was a bit concerned that with their additional tread they reduced the “barefoot” sensation enough that I would run with poor form or tune out at kick another log. However, I quickly adapted and I found that felt like my KSOs and Sprints had felt on shorter ultras while giving me some extra protection. I don’t know how much they actually helped, but they were definitely a huge psychological boost to my confidence. The sun rose between the first and second aid stations, and I’d made it through the first major challenge of the day.

(photo by Jim Rustvold)

After the first out and back to Frog Lake and back to the start finish area at mile 28, I began to feel some slight hot spots behind my toes. I took my VFFs off, checked them, adjusted my socks, and proceeded. About 28 miles later at Olallie Meadows I changed my socks, and found that dirt was collecting in the areas that I felt the hot spots. I don’t know what I could have done to avoid them, but they weren’t too bad. Just as one’s legs tire on a long run, one expects some foot discomfort after running all day whether in shoes, some sort of running sandal as I think of the VFF, or barefoot. This was how my feet felt the run on this trail on this day in these VFFs. My feet felt better after changing socks, and I proceeded down the trail with my crew member Tomas pacing me to the next aid station in his VFF KSOs. I could tell that the hot spots were not going to go away though, and so I made note of their progression but tried not to think about them too much.

I dropped off my pacer at Olallie Lake and proceeded on the last leg to the turnaround. If there was one time I was glad I had the Treks it was here. This leg included some of the most technical trail I have ever run on, at times just running on large and jagged rocks covered in smaller jagged rocks. I would have slowed to a crawl without the bit of extra tread giving me enough protection to move without evaluating every step. Even though this section took longer than I had budgeted due to the technicality of the trail, I was still well ahead of schedule. I had expected to need my lights at the previous aid station, but was able to put it off until the second turnaround at the mile 65 Breitenbush Lake aid station. Even then I was able to make it about half way back to the Olallie Lake aid station, which would come at 72 miles, before needing my lights. I had calculated splits that would get me to the finish in under 24 hours, but concluded that the early splits were too long and the later splits were too short. I had now made up enough time that I was confident that I could get my 24 hour buckle unless something went drastically wrong. In positive spirits I went into the night.

Back at Olallie Lake I had my first late-in-the-run experience, as I barked at Tomas for trying to give me a second bottle for the 3 mile leg I had before me. Apologizing and recognizing that I was feeling the effects of running for a full day, I recognized that the night run had begun. While there I saw my friend Rich who seemed to be having a tough day. He had been well ahead of me earlier in the day and by leaving while he sat in a chair I had now passed him. I took off for the next aid station. I remember little about the run to Olallie Meadows Campground except that it felt like a long 3 miles. I had settled on having my headlamp on its spotlight mode with my headlamp and waist light focused on approximately the same point ahead of me. The area ahead of me was lit up like day, which is exactly what I needed. I was feeling good and on account of putting my headlamp on so many miles into the course I decided I would skip having my crew change my batteries when I would see them for the last time at the next aid station and carry extra spares instead. With my plan for the next aid station set, I descended the 3/8 mile rocky trail to the aid station. I found a bit of chaos there. This was the last point that crews would see their runners until the finish. Crews had been up all day along with their runners, and everybody was a bit frayed. I was grazing at the aid station letting them take care of my needs when my crew pulled me away to take care of my needs. Only they didn’t have my needs covered and instead were serving as liasons to the aid station where I was doing pretty well on my own. All’s well that ends well though, and we got my needs covered and some soup to boot. I climbed back up to the PCT ready for my run through the night.

In the confusion of the previous aid station, I saw that Rich was sitting in the chair looking like he’d been there a while, which confused me since I’d seen him in the same state at the last aid station. I asked him if he was teleporting between aid stations. I wished him well before heading out on the trail, and then set out for my long night of running. It would be over 10 miles to the next aid station and I settled into a couple hours on the trail. I made some good progress down the trail without much to complain about, passed some of the jugs of water that were put out in lieu of one of the aid stations, and generally shuffled along at a pace that increased my buffer time ahead of a 24 hour finish. Maybe half way to the 86 mile Pinheads aid station who came running up behind me but Rich! He was running faster than I was but sitting for 15+ minutes at a time at the aid stations. We arrived at a large climb and settled into our hike up a big hill catching each other up on our days. It was good to have some company and it definitely made the long climb more pleasant. Another runner who I had been leap frogging with, running faster than he but taking longer at the aid stations, passed us like we were standing still. See you at the finish Tim! Everybody’s definitely reaping the fruits of their training and race day strategy at this point. I’m feeling steady, and am continuing to increase the buffer I have to finish under 24 hours. My feet are feeling fine enough. I’m still aware of hot spots but trying not to think to hard about them, and succeeding at that.

The long climb abates, and soon we’re at the Pinheads aid station. Curt seems a little less sarcastic about my VFFs than he usually is at the end of Where’s Waldo 100k, and points them out to another volunteer. I’m asked if they hurt, and I point out that some foot pain is expected 86 miles into a run no matter what is on your feet but that they’re treating me well. I’m feeling good, and think it’s a bit cruel that they have bottles of whiskey among the other ultra foods. I’m feeling good enough that a belt of bourbon sounds just fine, thank you very much, but I know better. I have some soup, fill my bottles, grab some gels, and announce that I’ve done everything I need to do. They help me find my way back to the trail and I’m off for 7 or so miles of downhill. Rich was still in his chair when I left, but I figured I would see him again as he charged down the trail in a bit. Instead we would correspond the next day about how the last miles and eventual finishes treated us.

Charging down the hill, I start to feel my hot spots holding me back. I pair a caffeine tablet with one tablet of ibuprofen in hopes of taking the edge off of the pain and fatigue I’m starting to dwell upon, and would do the same one more time a couple hours down the trail. My feet aren’t bad but they are bringing me enough pain to keep me from running without considering it - and the rest of my body is feeling the long run as well. Perhaps this keep me from bombing down the hill, but I’m still moving along well. Mostly it’s a long fun stretch of downhill and before I know it I’m at the W/S Meadows aid station. The volunteers recognize me and my VFFs from Where’s Waldo 100K and the Pacific Rim One Day Run and there’s questions about them. They treat me like I’ve got my wits about me, which seems encouraging. I get some help changing the batteries in my lights, detecting an ever so slight decrease in light output that suggests that the regulated output has run its course. I eat a bit of sandwich and take off with my full water bottles for the rest of the downhill charge. One more aid station to go! On my way down I discover that I can run ignoring my pain induced hesitation without any increased suffering. It’s tremendously liberating and I continue my charge down the hill, even passing a couple of people. I reach the river, the bottom point of the end of this journey.

In my mind this is a small uphill before I tackle the last big hill. Only it’s never ending. And it’s brutal. A runner and her pacer pass me like I’m standing still. I didn’t think I was moving that slow, I figure they must really be in good shape. I’m starting to talk to the forest about the cruel injustice of this hill. I’m wondering how I’ll make it on the next BIG hill if this one is giving me so much trouble. At least it’s keeping my attention off of my feet. For the most part. I think I complained to the forest a bit about them too. What seems like a day later I reach the top. I’m rewarded with signs that I’m near the next aid station. That was the big hill! It’s all downhill from here! I meet up with the speedy pair at the Red Wolf Pass aid station. I have some cola, a gel or two, make sure I’ve got a full bottle, and charge on. I let the speedy pair know I’ll be seeing them later, figuring that they’ll pass me again shortly, and they bid me adieu until the finish.

The last leg of a 100 mile run is sweet. The last leg of a 100 mile run is brutal. I like to say you can always run 5 more miles. I think it’s true but I don’t know if you get any refills on that source of last effort. If I had to run the last leg a second time I don’t think I could, because even though it’s a beautiful thing to have the next stop be the finish line it always feels about three times as far as it actually is. It doesn’t help that this seems to be a different path back than it was out. Every time I see some signs of civilization - a road, a trail marking of some sort, a sign - I’m sure that I only saw one or two of these on this stretch earlier in the day and that I’m about to pop out at the finish. Nope. Another turn. Another road. Another glow stick that doesn’t mean I’m done. I pass a runner and pacer, with another mirage of a last turn ahead, and say “I never thought we’d make it here” and he says “we’re not there yet.” I spend a few moments pondering where “here” and “there” are and whether we’ve made it to either of them. Sort of a “no matter where you go there you are” type of endless wandering. I’ve moved on to several more rounds of pleading with the cosmos to let it all end when I finally hit the road. Indeed, we are down the road from the trail where we entered that stretch of woods so many miles ago, but we’re close enough to the finish to smell the campfire. I charge down the road and around the corner. Tired runners, crew, and volunteers clap. Pictures are taken. Hats and buckles are awarded. Cola and snacks are fetched. A chair is provided. The warmth of the fire comforts my battle worn body, mind and soul. I finished in 23:35.

As a middle of the pack runner, I figure the main point of interest in this race report is that I ran in my Vibram Five Finger KSO Treks. But really, for me it would have been a more dramatic story to tell if I didn’t feel I could do the run without shoes. I’ve been doing virtually all of my running for the last two years without them, and for me this finish was the non-event of not needing to deviate from my preparation. That said, I felt very triumphant to reach this pinnacle of running events without a piece of gear so often considered essential. My “barefoot” act of faith, that the 4.5+ million years of evolution as bipeds has produced the best tool for the task at hand, was supported.

What was there left to do but take off the sandals and see what I could do with just my bare feet? Depending on how those hot spots recovered, that would be my plan for the next weekend. Stay tuned for part 3 of 4 of this set of reports, my story of running the Portland Marathon barefoot on 4 October 2009!

(photos by Tomas Quinones except where noted)

Stories from the unicycle commute

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 10:54:00 -0400

One from the archives. On 1 July 2008 Donald on BikePortland.org posted the following story about our crossing paths on that Tuesday’s commute:

Unicycles Rule!

This evening, I was running late.

I was lugging my laptop in a pannier, but my 80s Raleigh Comp GS was still in fighting form, tires just topped off to 110 and fresh lube on the drivetrain.

I’ve had a good winter of commuting and I’m feeling my oats, passing fair weather-ers on the waterfront like they were sitting still (which they were).

Then I get to Wieldler and Williams and I spot him. Big wheel Uni. Purple in colour. He passes in front as I wait for the light and then positions himself behind me in line to head north.

Total bike jam and I’m kicking hard for home so I don’t think about him again until I have to stop at Russel for the light.

Shoom, he passes me on the right just as the light turns green.

“I’m totally tucking in” is all I can offer.

So not only did I get passed by a Uni, I drafted one for a good 8 blocks. And it was a good pull. I’m hauling ass and I don’t have the legs to make the pass. But he’s punching a big hole and I’m grateful for assist.

Once the terrain flattened out and I could grab a gear, I offered “Drop in, man” as I crawled past him.

No idea if he tried.

But as I waited to turn left at Alberta, he was right there. Giving me the peace sign.

A totally stud performance.

I Am Humbled.

http://bikeportland.org/forum/showthread.php?t=2105

Photo by OneTireFlyer

My unshod journey - how I took off my shoes

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 17:10:00 -0400

I keep finding myself writing a history of my barefoot/minimalist running while working on the race report for last weekend’s “Hundred in the ‘Hood” PCT100. It seems that story needs to be told first. Some of it was told in my recent interview with Aaron from Transcend Bodywork. Some I haven’t shared before. Here it is.

I tried my first jogs without shoes in 2004. During the marathon training clinic I participated in while preparing for a marathon that Fall I heard the recommendation to do short barefoot runs in the grass as a way to improve form and strengthen muscles. I was intrigued enough to try, running on the road rather than grass. I was not intrigued enough to weather past the blisters I would occasionally get when something was a little different than the days where everything went fine. Usually on hot days.

Occasional forays into barefooting. Blisters. Back into shoes for fear of sabotaging my next race. This was the pattern for a couple of years.

When I wasn’t barefoot I was running in the motion control shoes that I
was fitted with at my local running store. Watching me run on a treadmill with a video camera trained on my feet, they showed me conclusive proof that I was one of the biomechanically flawed masses that had to be fixed by science in order to run without injury. I seemed a bit crazy to give barefooting a chance.

In 2006, at the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run (AC100), I spent some time on the trail over Mt. Baden Powell with Barefoot Ted. He was doing his first 100 miler wearing Vibram Five Finger Sprints. They looked rediculous to me, and I figured he was somehow equipped in ways that I must not be, but it furthered the intrigue I had for this way of running.

One of the hats that I wear is that of a physical anthropologist. I would like to have thought that this would lead me much more quickly to the conclusion that we are made to run barefoot, but first I was busy working on the simple idea that we are made to run. This was not the foregone conclusion that I thought it should be. Our culture tells us that we have weak feet and that running destroys our joints, that we are apparently not made to run. Anthropology had no standard answer to the question. Eventually I convinced myself that we were made to run, and found compelling anthropological studies that supported the conclusion. From there it was an easy step to conclude that we were made to run barefoot. And then it became the goal.

If we were made to run, then it was not a few biomechanically blessed who did not need special shoes to run. If we were made to run then it was a few biomechanically disadvantaged rather than the masses who truly needed modern designs to let them run. Most of us were just weak from lack of using our feet. If we were made to run, then I should be able to run barefoot.

I picked up some of the Vibram Five Fingers I’d seen Ted wearing at AC100 and started running occasionally in them. About once a week. I would run around 10K in them about once a week for much of the next year, letting my tissues and form rehabilitate and adapt to the different demands of running without running shoes. The following Fall I decided to cross-train over the Winter on a distance unicycle, the roots of Distance Minimally were being laid. This worked great except that when I ran my first ultramarathon of the year in February my feet were sore from peddling a wheel all Winter more than they pounded the ground. I decided to do all of my short runs in my Vibram Five Fingers as a way to keep my feet strong while cross training by unicycle. Soon my definition of “short” got longer and longer, until a couple of months later I toed the line of a 55K race in my Vibrams for the first time. I was certain that I could do at least half the distance without shoes, and was prepared to change if I needed to. The run went great, the full distance in Vibrams, and a personal record on the course to boot. I was hooked. I wanted to see how far I could take this. I prepared for my next race, a 50 miler on the Pacific Crest Trail, and set a PR for the distance in my Vibrams. Confidence increased, I did a 100K the next month with success. I was ready to toe the line at AC100.

I was still a bit concerned about a 100 miler without shoes, unsure about going from 15 hours on the trail that was mostly in the light of day to over 24 hours on the trail including a full night. But I wasn’t confident about wearing shoes for 100 miles either. I hadn’t run in shoes in months, and even when I was used to them I would get horrible blisters on my toes and other damage to my feet from shoes. I wore VFF KSOs, but I put shoes in several drop bags and included shoes in the gear that my crew brought to each of the aid stations. Around 40 miles into the run I slipped into a stream in Cooper Canyon. Soon blisters formed on my wet soles. At mile 54 I changed into shoes in hopes that they would be easier on my blistered feet through the night. Then I threw up. I ventured slowly into the night with multiple goals having fallen out of reach. I finished the race, and had a chance to chat with Ted about my effort at one of the aid stations down the trail, but I regretted that I had fallen short of my goal of a 100 mile trail run without shoes.

Weeks later I qualified for the Boston Marathon and set a marathon PR in my Vibrams, and then I repeated the buildup the next year, this time successfully including true barefoot running as well. I ran 85 miles in a one-day race wearing my VFF Sprints. I ran my 50 miler in VFF KSOs again, and won the “Show Us Your Waldo” award at the Where’s Waldo 100K for my repeat finish in VFF KSOs there. And now I was ready to try the 100 miler again. This time I ran it with success, lucky to get my toes into an early pair of KSO Treks, and set a 100 mile PR in the process. It felt like graduation day, but I had one more goal in mind. Tomorrow I toe the line for my first barefoot marathon.

My feet still show some wear from my 100 miler last week, but hey, we’re made to do this. I’m giving it a shot.

Working on my PCT100 race report, it’s always a challenge...

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 13:29:11 -0400

Working on my PCT100 race report, it’s always a challenge for me to take the memories of 100+ miles on the trail and reflect them in words. For now, here’s a short video shot by Tomas who blogs at The Fit Human. He’s another minimalist runner, and a crew member extraordinaire who joined me on the trail for a leg of the race. Thanks Tomas!