More Than Meets The Sole

“I bought a used pair of shoes for 15 dollars.”

Had I not been driving the car on a bridge, I most likely would have pulled over and then cried out in horror.  I took a breath, then asked in a calm voice, “What did you do?”

Suzanne said, “I bought a pair of (blank) shoes off eBay, used, for 15 dollars.”

“They’re in good condition; the sole only has a little bit of wear and they felt pretty good this morning on the run.  It’s not a bad deal.”

The conversation was definitely not one of those I wanted to have while driving home from a Sunday brunch.  Perhaps in the case of my wife it wasn’t a bad deal, but buying a used running shoe seems much to me like buying a used car.  I’ve had friends (and some family) provide the classic adage, ‘when you buy a used car, more often than not you are buying someone else’s problems.’  So in Suzanne’s case, I felt that not only had she bought someone else’s problem, but she also could not tell how long the previous owner had used the problem.

When it comes to wear and tear on a pair of shoes it’s not necessarily the outsole (the harder rubber portion of running shoes which contacts the road, track, belt or terrain) where the attention needs to be focused.  The midsole of the running shoe is the part which takes all of the beating.  But, to borrow an automotive analogy, to determine the shoes are still good for running, too many runners look at tire wear rather than the condition of the shock absorbers.

Most runners, if they use a pair of running shoes for more than 400-to-500 miles (or six months), are asking for musculoskeletal trouble.  Personal experience has shown me when a runner has not made any change in training distance, surface, or intensity, but suddenly suffers from aches and pains in the ankles, knees, hips and lower back, they most likely have a "dead" pair of shoes.  Some have asked whether changing the sockliner with a gel or silicone rubber insole will help. 

That's a very short-term quick fix.  Go out and purchase another pair of shoes.  Or two.

Runners who do higher training mileage, run a little "heavier," sweat a great deal, or live in a warm, humid area of the world would do well to rotate between two or three pairs of shoes at a time.  Rotating shoes not only extends the life of all of the shoes but ensures the runner is less likely to run in a soggy pair of shoes.  Soggy shoes not only stink to high heaven (almost worse than when they're dry) but can increase the odds of developing athlete’s foot.

I’m not advocating going full-out “Imelda Marcos,” and carrying a shoe arsenal which rivals most Olympic decathletes.  However, most runners can and should keep more than one pair of functional running shoes available at a time.  Keep an eye peeled for on-line sales and discounts from local brick-and mortar running specialty stores, and comparison shop, and you can keep yourself in a good pair of running shoes throughout the year.

Will Stretching Make Me Faster? Probably Not.

There are persons who stretch a lot. There are persons who say all runners should stretch a lot. Then, there are others who say too much stretching can be a bad idea.

The January 2012 issue of Outside magazine took ten of the biggest fitness myths to the mats. One of them had to do with stretching's effect on running parformance. FSU researchers asked ten male athletes to stretch for 16 minutes, then run for an hour on a treadmill. In a later session, the same crew sat quietly for 16 minutes, then hit the treadmill for the same duration. Without the pre-run stretch, the men covered more distance while expending less energy.

So, I don't feel quite so bad about my inability to stretch. At least I can run.

Ah, you say, but if you did stretch you probably would not have to deal with the nagging little injuries you've had in the past year. Not so fast, my little friend. In several large-scale studies of athletes and military recruits, static stretching did not reduce the incidence of common overuse injuries such as Achilles tendinopathy (one of the issues with which I deal) and knee pain.

In my humble opinion, stretching is a personal matter. I'm not going to tell someone they shouldn't stretch if they feel it helps. When specific muscles are tight or I have run a lot of mileage, I will do a little bit of stretching, usually the calf muscles (which also impacts the achilles’ tendon), the iliotibial band, & the hamstrings, since these are the muscles which become most inflexible because we run.

One thing you will not see me do is throw my leg over the back of a chair, or do what I see most recreational runners do, what I like to call "flamingo imitations." You've seen the person. They're the one who take their foot and pull it directly behind them up to their backside. I'm not certain whether they're working on their knee flexibility or their quadriceps muscle. Neither one really seems all that essential to run performance.

All three muscle group stretches can be done by having a flat surface, something with which to lean against, and a bench or chair. A fifteen-minute warm-up, consisting of a jog and some stretching - at the most - and on to the run.

The calf stretch can be done while leaning against a wall, bleachers, pole, or any solid object. Hold the stretch for 30 to 60 seconds without bouncing, then switch legs.

The iliotibial (IT) band stretch is done by crossing one leg behind the other 6-9 inches, then leaning toward the rear leg. Again, hold the stretch for 30 to 60 seconds without bounce, then switch legs.

The hamstrings can be stretched by placing the leg up on a bench or support between knee & waist height (there are variations which keep both feet on the ground). Bend slowly forward at the waist until the stretch is felt, hold for 30 to 60 seconds, then switch legs.

Some things you don't want to do:

Never try to stretch a muscle that has not been warmed up. A few minutes of easy jogging (the same amount of time it takes to run about a mile) will raise a muscle’s temperature enough to make it pliable.

Never bounce during a stretch. Just stretch as far as the muscle will allow; stay relaxed & breathe. You don’t get awards for being the most flexible at the race.

Never over-stretch. You really can stretch too much & leave your joints susceptible to injury.

If you really feel the need to do it, stretching does not need to look like a return to dance classes of our youth. As long as you do it in a manner which aligns with your day-to-day functionality you probably won't need to worry about loss of muscle strength, or hurting your joints.

The Not-Always-Ten-Percent Rule

Some seven months ago, my achilles' tendon gave me the impossible-to-ignore message that marathon training could soon be its undoing. Since then, I've encouraged myself to look more critically at several different aspects of my training. I'm looking not so much because I want to complete another marathon, but because I want to continue running. Walking with a minimal limp (from bones broken almost three decades ago) is a plus.

It's meant, at least for me, some changes to my workout schedule...some ways in form, but mostly in duration.

I firmly believe in the ten-percent rule; the rule (of thumb) which states no increase in distance, intensity (which I look at as average heart rate over time) or duration for an exercise activity should be more than ten percent over the measure of the previous three-to-four week period. There are several coach/author-types who have published this same belief.

But not all coaches agree. My friend Patrick McCrann is one of the few who openly disagrees. He writes that increases of any sort need not necessarily be at the "rigid" ten percent point. Some times it can be more; other times less. What is important, in his mind, is to adjust the stress once the body adapts to it, then keep it there until the adaptation is complete.

I understand his thoughts on the subject. Since we are all an experiment of one, we adapt to stressors, and the change of those stressors, in varied ways. Two eight-minute milers can run on a flat course for 30 minutes at a time and perhaps both feel the same physiological benefit/stress that we can measure (heart rate, respiration, fatigue, just to name a few) during that ~3.75-mile jaunt. Add three minutes to that run and one of the two may walk around the next day with aching joints; the other might be "itchy" for more distance.

Naturally, we can't isolate all of the factors which could cause differences in adaptation. Not without putting an entire population in isolation. If we could I am most certain there are entire populations we would prefer to isolate...most likely not our own.

When making those changes in stress, it's important to keep static as many of the other variables as possible for at least three weeks. If your body responds in a less-than-desired fashion, like an injury, it's probably a good idea to back off the stressor until the injury subsides. Injuries are usually the body's way of saying "I am not able to adapt to this much stress." Stay at that level for three weeks, then increase or change the stress as tolerated.

A little imagination, and close attention to your body's response to stress, is key to increasing mileage, duration, or intensity in your training plan.

Irrational Thoughts?

'Sometimes I think it's a shame when I get feelin' better when I'm feelin' no pain.' - "Sundown," Gordon Lightfoot (1974)

Just because a person has coached athletes for a few years, has learned from hard experience what not to do, and struggles on a regular basis to clearly communicate those lessons to people who ask questions of them does not necessarily mean they have achieved an immunity to the disorder I like to call "abject stupidity."

Somehow I managed to survive a brief exposure to this disorder on my way to my "real" job this morning.

I started to think about training for a marathon.

Those who follow my rambling, sometimes cryptic missives know marathon training nearly turned me into "once a runner" approximately six months ago. It wasn't necessarily marathon training which was the primary cause of my achilles injury as much as a failure to deal with an under-healed achilles tendonitis issue which plagued me for three or four years.

I'm not certain what made me start to think about the marathon. Could it be because the evenings and the early morning hours have become a little more cool? Perhaps the slow approach of autumn and the need to review the training plan of one of my athletes was a subtle hint. Maybe, just maybe, it was that set of 400s we ran during last night's workout.

I wasn't the one spanking the group, though. Jim took Deena and myself to the woodshed most of the workout. He was kind enough to let us out after the third set. But it was nice to float up along Jim's shoulder on the back stretch of the last 400 and be in that middle ground between floating - where you feel the spring in the toe-off - and the feel when you know there's no "extra gear" available.

So a little bit of the speed is returning; 15 seconds a mile here, 20 seconds a mile there. But I must remind myself, like Taco Bell differs from Mexican food, there is a vast difference between being "healthy" and being "fit;" being "able to run" and being "able to race." I am most certainly not out of the woods yet. But I am beginning to see glimpses of the glade.

Injured runners often take too little time off from training, don't allow the body enough time to gradually ramp back up to the level of training they were at when they injured themselves, and don't stay in touch with how their body is feeling during the ramp-up. Fail to exercise caution and restraint when increasing distance, duration, intensity, and especially when races are added, and those "small" injuries which are usually remedied with a weeks' worth of rest or cross-training can transform into "major" issues which drastically affect the overall quality of life.

Feeling no pain is not necessarily the same as feeling better. It is, however, the first step on the road to recovery.

As for this ol' coach, we're almost ready for 5,000-meter road races, and not much more. In the meantime, there's a couple of flat late-autumn and early-spring marathons I'll continue to consider; the operating word is "consider."

I'm not that stupid. Yet.

Sock It To Me - The Right Foot Cover For The Job

A sharp, almost burning pain shot up from my heel near the end of my Monday early-morning run. My first response was one near the level of worry, of "ooh, that's not good at all." Fortunately I was about three-tenths of a mile away blocks from my house. I immediately slowed down to a walk, just to see if the pain would subside.


There was good news and bad news.

The bad news was that the heel pain continued. The good news was the pain was localized at the point where my heel rubbed against the cuff of my training shoe. Why? When I pulled off my shoe a dime-size spot of mesh appeared at the heel of my ten-year-old "favorite pair" of running socks. Right at the cuff. That was the reason for the pain.


There's nothing evil about parting ways with a ten-year-old pair of running socks. It's hard to grow into love with a new - read the word "different" here - piece of clothing, especially if you've grown accustomed to a particular style, cut or material. In this case, the socks were knit wool(-blend) crew style. My friend Scott heard immediately questioned my sanity. Yes, Scott, wearing wool socks in Florida is probably a sign I'm a little mad.


Running socks have come a very long way from the cotton crew socks I used when I started running with regularity in the early 1990s. Definitely far from the up-to-your-calf cotton tube socks I wore in high school.

Naturally, space prohibits from discussing every possible type of sock available. However, if there are sock manufacturers willing to let me road test their wares I won't hesitate to talk a little more about them.

The most popular running socks fall into three different categories: thin, padded and specialty.

Thin socks which come to my mind are made by companies like SockGuy, SaveOurSoles, LN, Gizmo and Air-E-Ator. When Suzanne and I go to an out-of-town race, we'll pick up a matching pair, just to remind our friends we're married. I love these socks for a number of reasons:

First, they work well for a multitude of situations. I can wear them with a pair of dressy shoes; nothing drives my co-workers up the wall like seeing me in a meeting wearing a pair of black socks with a beer mug embroidered on the medial (inner) and lateral (outer) cuffs.
Second, when I do triathlons the thinner socks protect my feet from the seams and edges of my bike shoes and help me to slide into my run shoes very quickly.
Third, I can wear them with a snug pair of cushioned running shoes or racing flats...depending on the distance, or as an inner pair with a low cuff padded sock for a longer distance race.
Last, the multitude of sock colors and embroidery designs - colleges, military services, wise comments, and so on - let me expose my personality on the road.

When it comes to padded socks Thor-Lo comes to mind reflexively. I've varied between the low-cut crew 12 and what Thor-Lo calls the Run-12 and the Run-14, depending on the time of year and availability in the running specialty stores. Thor-Lo knits their socks in three different varieties of thread: CoolMax, Wool, and Acrylic, and in thin or padded styles. I love the padded style, and can never seem to have enough pairs. I've also worn the Ironman-branded sock, which is an acrylic blend, and a little less-padded than the Thor-Los. The Ironman-branded socks, made by Wigwam, are my first choce for longer-distance race days, usually covered up with a SockGuy-type sock.


I received a pair of WrightSocks as part of a grab bag shipment a few years ago. What made those socks special was the fact they had two layers rather than one, which kept my tender(ized) foot and ankle flesh from rubbing against the internal seams of my shoes. Nice socks, but unfortunately, I suffered from the curse of any guy who launders...the favorite socks always lose one member of the pair, after which they - the single sock which remains - are only good for making dog toys.

Why is it the good socks always lose one of the pair, and the bad socks never get lost?

Let's return to the topic of rubbing and the outcomes which result from skin rubbing against seam - blisters -and skin rubbing against skin - blisters, chafing, callouses. I've had calloused skin between my fourth and fifth toes for a long time, which occasionally I'm able to trim down. My wife, noticing this issue, asked whether a pair of socks with split toes would help the problem. I used to look at the Injinji socks as another one of those strange marathoner aberration-slash-fad things; my marathoning alumna used to wear them for every run and swore by their benefits. With "barefoot" running and the Vibram-type split-toed shoe-like devices suddenly appearing on the foot of every bandwagon rider the Injinji socks would make for a great sock inside a pair.

Think about it, barefoot-runners. If you're wearing a "shoe" with no sock, eventually it is going to stink to high heaven UNLESS you have some sort of sock or fabric in there to soak up all that sweat. Naturally, split toed "shoes" would require the use of split toed socks.


So, Suzanne decided to grab me a pair of Injinji socks (rainbow colored!) which I could wear with sandals or while running. After the first five minutes of 'wow, this feels a little bit strange, this feeling of cloth between my toes' feeling, I have to admit they were very comfortable. Even for long runs.

Naturally, there's no "one size fits all" solution for the right pair of socks. Much like running shoes, the right sock for the runner is a match -sometimes made in heaven, sometimes a little farther "south" - between shoe and foot; a blend of personal preference, "checkbook resiliency, and foot type.

A Very Scary Place

'My head's a very scary place; don't want to walk it alone...'
Christopher Cross, "I Know You Well' (1998)

In the past I've focused on advice and counsel which can be passed to a larger, more general public, especially since a sports editor asked whether he could borrow one or two of my posts.

Weekly exposure in a large-city newspaper leads to a number of outcomes: You end up with new 'friends.' You also gain new 'detractors.' Both are necessary to the aspiring writer. There's nothing like seeing your weak points exposed by a person who wants to "make points" in the public spectrum - they provide an unpaid (but not unappreciated) editorial function in the feedback loop. You go back and think a little more critically about the next topic; you read the first draft a little more critically. You make certain there's more "muscle" than fat. The editor has less material to polish, change or tweak.

This post is (most likely) not going to be sent up the line. Here is where I temporarily revert to that often self-abusive "make-you-go-blind-if-you-keep-writing-like-this" type of writing which to many appears to be the sustenance of bloggers. I feel a need to talk about a "very scary place" I briefly visited this past weekend. Some details will be trimmed to save friends and loved ones from needless exposure.

I like beer. However, I would not say I have a drinking problem. More often than not I am the person who sees the proverbial "line drawn in the sand," over which I dare not step for fear of ruining my personal, financial, or professional well-being. I will have anywhere from zero-to-three beers a day during the work week. There is the rare - perhaps two or three times a year - occasion when I will dance at the line and mock the Fates, after which I go back to my comfortable bed and sleep for a few hours. When I awaken, I chuckle at my good fortune, grab a cup of coffee and march smartly.

This weekend I have to admit I stepped over the line. It wasn't a big step, but it was a step. In the 25-plus years since I drunkenly stumbled out of a bar in my hometown and inflicted $600 worth of damage on my brand-new pick-up truck, I think I can say I've "stepped over the line" perhaps three times. For me, this involves or has involved drinking (probably in this most recent case) the equivalent of a 12-pack of American beer and climbing into or onto a motorized vehicle.
I've seen other people (try to) do this. In a far worse state of inebriation. With facial trauma from the outmanned tag-team match against gravity and disequilibrium that state of drunkenness so stealthily arranged. I've seen a few really good, and graphic examples of why not to drink to that state. Of course, when we are having a great time we don't quite think about those consequences.

I definitely thought about the potential consequences - financial, judicial, professional, medical, and so forth - once we returned (safely) home. The next morning's run turned into a long walk and chat with my wife. She now understands why I prefer to not drink as much as the next party animal. And naturally, my body decided to let me feel the lowest level of the potential consequences through the remainder of the day. A headache would have been acceptable. But no...my stomach taught me a lesson.

Small, 12-ounce opaque drinking cups are your friend. Large, transparent 21-ounce beer mugs are your friend, too...but for a brief period of time. Having the courage to say "I think I've had enough," or to ask whether someone (sober AND of legal driving age) can make certain you get home safely might not make the hangover, headache or gastrointestinal distress any less intense, but it might be much less expensive for you. And the ones who run with - or love - you.

Say When?

Once upon a time there was a kingdom filled with runners, where machismo was the coin of the realm. It didn't matter what the weather conditions were like, or how ill or sore they felt. When the alarm clock rang out they would stiffly make their way out the door to the track or the road run, depending on the day of the week. Eventually, their illnesses became chronic ailments; their little tweaks turned into painful disorders. All for the want of common sense.

Where was it written, that rule which compels otherwise wise and prudent men (women, too!) to fill up calendar squares, and then eventually the appointment calendars of orthopedic specialists? Even Bill Bowerman, notable for saying "there is no such thing as hard conditions, only soft people," was known to have forced easy efforts, even rest, on his athletes. Kenny Moore writes about it in the opening chapter of his (most) excellent biography.

Yes, even Kenny Moore learned when to say when.

I believe it was Cosmas Ndeti, three-time Boston Marathon winner (1993-1995), who described in a Runners' World interview about ten years ago, what can simply be called the "two-kilometer rule." (There are other athletes who have said something along these lines.) He said that on those days when he felt less than strong during the morning run he would make an effort to keep the first two kilometers close to home. If he still felt bad at the two-kilometer mark he'd call it a day, walk back to the house and rest.

Yes, even the Kenyans know when to say when.

I've talked about having a "plan B" workout for those days when the conditions or circumstances were not going to be in your favor. There are days, and physical conditions which call for each of us to be brave enough to have a Plan "C" (Cosmas Ndeti, if you like), and call it a day rather than try to struggle through it. "Wooden legs" will probably make it through the two klicks just fine. Depending on the degree of ache in the muscles, and which muscles are aching, that mile-and-a-quarter might just let us shake things out.

Those overuse injuries, on the other hand, are probably going to continue to "talk" to you at 2K. It happened to me last night at my group track workout. I wear three different types of cushioned shoes, all made by the same manufacturer. One is wider in the heel or the forefoot than others, which leads to a "mismatch" between shoe and sock, shoe wriggle, and impact shock.

Rather than be smart and remembering (my coach's coach Bob) Schul's dictum: 'you get no glory points for running through pain at a workout,' I stuck it out through the five miles of near-90-degree slog. I felt fine (better!) once I went to bed that night, but the morning workout turned from "Plan B" to "Plan C" in less than thirty minutes.

Silly me. I still need the reminder: Know when to say when.

15 Miles-A-Week To 26.2 In A Day: The Marathon Puzzle

This is part two of a response to a question I received in my personal e-mail from a reader:

"I have a question regarding your 10% increase every three weeks. How would this work if I were training for a marathon? Would I have to do a 20 mile run five times a week? I'm sure that can't be good for your legs. Do you have another training schedule that you recommend for marathons? Like your friend in the article I have also had IT band problems, which I believe was due to increasing my mileage too fast when training for my second marathon. Thanks for any help you can offer."

The previous post covered training plans I've recommended to my own athletes when they've considered running/racing a marathon. But the training plan only gets the athlete to the starting line, (ideally) healthy and ready to run a good 26.2 miles. A sensible pacing plan takes advantage of the smart training and lets the athlete perform up to their potential. Train hard/smart for 16-to-20 weeks, sacrifice family time, free time (morning, evening, weekends), and work time to get to the starting line, then go out the first five or six miles like a maniac? Never a good idea.

After I wrote the first post I sat down with an Excel spreadsheet to determine how long it would take to progress, given an approximate ten-percent increase in run duration/distance, from 20 minutes-a-day, six-to-seven days a week, to marathon training volume.

Before I start, let's come to a couple of understandings:

I've read of couch-to-marathon programs which -ideally - get the participant to the start line in 26 weeks. But I believe this shortchanges the runner on many fronts: They run the risk of overuse injury because of a very sudden increase in volume. They don't really learn to enjoy racing, racing etiquette, or what works and what doesn't on race day. And, there are so many different race distances and formats which are grossly overlooked...to many, it's either marathon or nothing.

In my humble opinion, it takes right on the verge of four years of consistent, (preferably) injury-free training to go from couch-to-marathon. Yes, that sounds elitist and discriminatory. I did my first marathon after only four months of "training;" I had a lot of fun, beat myself badly over the course of 26.2, and didn't run ANYTHING for ten years. It took another ten years for me to try another marathon, and STILL I did it wrong. I've been working the "marathon puzzle" ever since.

When it comes to the "marathon puzzle," every athlete is an experiment of one. I've drafted plans for both male and female runners, ranging in age from the mid-20s to the mid-40s, averaging four years of running experience. The athletes have been given free rein to adapt and adjust based on their own life constraints (treadmill adaptations for Canadian winters, for example...), and more often than not they've seen success...not so much because of my plan, but because of their hard work and consistency over time.

The only person who has ever failed on one of my plans is me (Chronic injuries and recovery issues have been my undoing - I'm not yet willing to admit I'm too brittle for the marathon.). Coaching, to me, is a zero-sum game: If I'm training well it's because I'm not paying attention to you. By "paying attention" I've helped four people finish iron-distance triathlons, four people to qualify for the Boston Marathon, and another four people to finish Boston. So I won't argue with the method/madness I've developed the past six years.

Your Ego Is Not Your Amigo

Brett and I have known each other since the summer we first started working for the Navy. I saw him win his first age group award and witnessed his phone call to his wife (he's the guy I advised to not downplay his accomplishment) Meredith in Alabama. So, I guess you can say we go back a few miles.

He sent me a running question the other day:

"I'm starting to experience some pain on the outside of my right knee after I run. For example, I did eight miles this morning and was fine while running. When I got home, the pain really started kicking in just walking around the house. The pain seems to occur at the point when I step forward with my right foot. Any ideas? It has been happening for a few weeks now and seems to come and go. I did six miles on Monday evening and didn't have any trouble. Thanks for any help. I definitely don't want to mess up my knee."

When I sent my response back to Brett, I initially suspected iliotibial band syndrome because of the location and intermittent nature of the pain. The only other overuse injury I can think of would be patellofemoral syndrome, or "runner's knee", which would have the pain at the lower margin of the knee; the IT band would be at the upper or outer margin of the knee.

Either way, Brett has an overuse injury.

He later revealed to me he went from running five to running ten miles at a time over a four-week span, which came from training with a triathlon training group at their local YMCA. "Guess I was trying a little too hard and too quick to hang with the 'A Group'", was his lament.

When an overuse injury such as IT band syndrome, achilles tendinosis, plantar fasciitis, patellofemoral syndrome comes to pass, most of the root causes are these:

1. Old, worn-out, or improper running shoes. If the runner cannot say how long (in time or miles) they have run in a particular pair of shoes they might have run in them too long. Sometimes an old pair of shoes will give fair warning by "smelling dead," or the runner might suffer from some aches and pains in the ankles, feet, knees or lower back. Naturally, the remedy would be to get into a pair of shoes which best fits the foot type. Most experienced runners know what kind of shoes work best for them. Once in a while a particular model of shoe changes construction or materials, so it doesn't hurt (no pun intended) to have a "short list" of acceptable shoe models. The major running magazines do annual shoe reviews which can make the search more simple, or a running speciality store can point the individual runner to the "short list."

2. Significant changes in training volume, terrain, or surface. A short-term (or even a long-term) business trip or a new training group can wreak havoc on a training cycle. Most good training schedules aren't necessarily (and probably shouldn't be) written in stone. I've discussed with my coach/advisor about synchronizing my workouts with my coaching; some times solitary training sessions are necessary to train at the proper (read: easier) intensity. Look closely at the recent changes, then subtract them for about three weeks. Why three weeks? That's how long it takes for the body to benefit completely from a change in training volume or intensity, or the minimum time it takes for a low-level overuse injury to begin healing.

And when adding distance/duration to a workout, the "ten percent every three weeks" rule of thumb is best. When talking ten percent, the addition of time/distance should be spread across the training week as much as possible. For example:

OLD WEEK - 30 miles/week

- Sunday - 6 miles

- Monday - Rest

- Tuesday - 6 miles

- Wednesday - 6 miles

- Thursday - 6 miles

- Friday - Rest

- Saturday - 6 miles

NEW WEEK - 33 miles/week

- Sunday - 7 miles

- Monday - Rest

- Tuesday - 6.5 miles

- Wednesday - 6.5 miles

- Thursday - 6.5 miles

- Friday - Rest

- Saturday - 6.5 miles

I've met runners who tacked the ten percent on the Sunday run, which in the example above would increase the volume of that day by 50 percent and increase the longest run of the week to more than 20 percent of the week's volume. Neither one of those are a good idea. If there's a time crunch during the week the additional miles could be split between Saturday and Sunday, but even then there would be the risk of adding too much stress too soon.

And, regardless, cambered roads and hill running can wreak havoc on the unprepared runner. Stress injuries abound from too much "new" (surface, distance, or intensity), too soon.

3. Muscle weakness, especially in the calves, gluteus medius, and abdomen. When a runner has weak muscles or muscle imbalance it puts undue strain on the rest of the "drivetrain." I sent Brett a link to a YouTube video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RC7VH3bEB4) with some exercises to strengthen his glutes and stretch the IT band. Six of ten runners who make these changes can recover from a low-level overuse injury in as little as three weeks, with the remainder recovering in six weeks. There are those cases (this coach included) where recovery can take up to six months; more of a compliance and patience issue than anything else.

Brett sent a reply which ended with:

"I signed up for a ten-miler this coming Sunday. I want to finish it, then my plan is to go back to six miles and see how I do. If I still am having problems, I'll keep backing off until I stop having problems and may look into seeing a physical therapist. Once I figure out where my baseline is, I'll start slowly increasing my distance again, only this time at a reasonable pace."

When it comes to training, and especially when it comes to recovering from an overuse injury: Your ego is not your amigo.

Pre-Race Paranoia, Or The Half-Shell

Over a year ago I wrote a two-post diatribe about the trend toward minimalist shoes and barefoot running. Seeing one of my former athletes wearing a pair of Vibram Five Fingers at the mid-week beach run got me once again to thinking. I didn't want to sit and read through a bunch of news articles...again...on the topic, so I did a little iTunes Store search. By my good fortune there was a humanist podcast on the minimalist shoe and barefoot running trend, featuring Harvard University evolutionary biologist Daniel Lieberman, Liberty University professor (and author) Daniel Howell, and author Christopher McDougall spoke on the benefits of going barefoot.

Why would humanists would take an interest in something which seems more in the realm of biomechanics and sport? Humanists (at least the secular humanists) believe that reason, ethics and justice, rather than the supernatural, dogma or religious belief, are the underpinnings of morality and decision-making. And some of these humanists like the idea of getting in contact with the earth around them; I'm not certain whether they would be called "tree-huggers"in the perjorative sense...the humanists who have taken to move back to their earlier and "more natural" state, one before the advent of constrictive and (according to Howell) biomechanically harmful shoes.

(I'm only a curious running coach. I come neither to laud nor condemn, but to try, to the best of my ability, to give a balanced point...and my recommendation/s. I ran college cross country in Nike cross country flats and raced 5K and 10K races in a pair of lightweight Brooks or New Balance road racing flats. When I'm healthy and running well I enjoy racing short distance races in light shoes. I do track workouts in light-to-medium-weight trainers, and road runs in a cushioned shoe for neutral runners.)

Lieberman compared the foot strike patterns of shod and barefoot runners. He did not take a shod runner and put them into a minimalist shoe or compel them to run barefoot for research purposes. So, right off the bat we have to compare apples and oranges. Or do we?

He repeated, almost verbatim, the "Nature" abstract: Habitually barefoot endurance runners often land on the forefoot before bringing down the heel; they sometimes land flat footed or, less often, on the heel. In contrast, habitually shod runners mostly rear-foot strike, facilitated by the elevated and cushioned heel of the modern running shoe. Even on hard surfaces, barefoot runners who forefoot strike generate smaller collision forces than shod rearfoot strikers. This difference results primarily from a more plantar-flexed foot at landing & more ankle compliance during impact, decreasing the effective mass of the body that collides with the ground. Forefoot & midfoot strike gaits were probably more common when humans ran barefoot or in minimal shoes, & may protect the feet & lower limbs from some of the impact-related injuries now experienced by a high percentage of runners.

I still think it's safe to assume there are more "slow" than "fast" runners (pardon the pun) hitting the roads. Slower runners have a different running gait. They tend to overstride; their feet stay on the running surface for a longer period of time and they use more of the large leg muscles. As the speed of the run increases, the runner either pounds the heels into the ground because they're overstriding (the result of anaerobic, sprint-focused sports), which causes shock-related stress and the injuries which result, or they adapt; shortening the stride and strike closer to midfoot or forefoot.

Another portion of the podcast had the interviewer learning how to run barefoot from Christopher McDougall, author of "Born To Run." One of the questions from the interviewer, while he and McDougall were trotting down a path (Central Park, I believe) was: "So, what happens when there are rocks on the pathway?" To which McDougall replied, "I have a little bit of technology I use then...it's called vision."

I can't help but agree that barefoot running might work for many people, especially if the terrain is amenable to wearing no shoes or Vibrams, or minimalist shoes. But the trouble comes when you can't see what's going on below you.

This past weekend is a perfect example: My friend Jon began running in Vibram Five Fingers at about the same time I first wrote about barefoot running. Jon's one of those guys who doesn't believe in slow, gradual transitions into anything. Right away, he took the Vibrams out for a 5K run...and paid the price in sore tendons. However, over the course of time he's increased the duration and distance at which he can run in them; he's now up to 15 kilometers, having raced the Pensacola Double Bridge Run in them.

We were out the other day at a local Hash House Harriers event. After the first mile, which was on grass and pavement, the trail turned into the shallows of Pensacola Bay. Yes, I said "into" the bay; one water crossing per trail seems to be par for the course for this kennel. Fortunately for us the conditions were warm and the water, while cool, was not a hindrance.

Jon, wearing his Vibrams on trail, decided to take them off. He decided to take the risk of going barefoot through the shallows rather than soak his shoes the day before he planned to use them in a half-marathon on the beach. His first step into the water was his undoing. I heard those fateful words which you never want to hear: "that's not good."

Looking back, Jon raised his foot up out of the water. The ball of his foot, around the big toe, appeared more as a flap of skin. Step number one into the shallow water was directly onto an oyster shell, which apparently slashed his foot nearly to the bone. One of the tail-end runners on the trail quickly went back for Jon's jeep and took him to the hospital. Naturally it was safe to say he could kiss his planned half-marathon for the next day good-bye.

Perhaps a couple lessons can be learned from Jon's mishap:

One, there's a reverse correlation between the equipment a runner uses and the degree of situational awareness which is necessary. If you can't see what you're stepping on, it's probably a good idea to put something between your tender flesh and the many potential things which are more resilient than, and can do serious harm, to your tender flesh.

Two, the day immediately before a big race is probably the most dangerous. The best advice for individual runners is to think about the constellation of things which can possibly go wrong, and try to avoid them as much as possible. Just because you have pre-race paranoia doesn't mean everything isn't out to get you.

Sidelined. Not Benched, But Sidelined.

"I don’t question his toughness, he’s tough as hell. He’s one of the toughest....He doesn’t complain....He goes out there and plays...he practices every single day, so no we don’t question his toughness....Yeah, I love jealous people when they are watching our game on TV while their season is over." - Brian Urlacher, Bears linebacker, during post-game press conference, January 23, 2011

I had a sneaking suspicion something was not "really" right when we started the second of three planned seven-mile loops yesterday afternoon. My right heel and achilles tendon had behaved well through the first loop and we were gliding at a relaxed low-to-mid eight minute-per-mile pace. For Deena, one of my athletes in training for the Rock n' Roll/Mardi Gras Marathon, this pace was right where she needed to be, give or take a few seconds. However, this pace would not do me on the day; I'd need another fifteen to twenty seconds each mile. But pace was the least of my concerns.

My mind and my legs were having one of those James T. Kirk and Montgomery Scott moments which played out in every Star Trek episode or movie I've ever watched. Unfortunately for me the legs were Patrick Doohan, the mind was William Shatner: I'm giving 'er all I got, Kept'n...

About two miles left in the loop, I was deep in the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross stages of dealing with death and dying: Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Two of three poor half marathon performances in three months were a clear message something was biomechanically amiss, and getting angry about it would not fix the problem.

I figured I would make a bargain with my body and try to finish fourteen miles; if I could do fourteen then tacking on an easy two miles to make the run twenty-six kilometers would be an acceptable compromise.

We stopped briefly at a Circle K. I grabbed a bottle of fluid; Deena took a quick stretch break. As we started again I broke the news. I decided, rather than to back down from the full marathon and run the half in three weeks, repeating the "ten miles of decent running, followed by three miles of character-building" insanity - and insanity, according to Einstein, is doing the same thing over and over with the hope of different results - I would back down immediately to rehabilitation. This vicious cycle of train, injure, recover and reinjure has to stop. And this cycle had to be broken before I repeated the same ten kilometer walk-of-shame I did in Jacksonville...followed by recovering from a high-grade achilles tendon problem.

When you find yourself in a hole, the smartest thing to do is stop digging.

After a hot shower and a cold beer, in front of the television watching the NFC Championship with my greyhound Rubin, I saw Jake Cutler come off the field with a slight limp. Most quarterbacks in his position would have been selfish and said: 'I'm fine, I'm staying in the game,' and continued down the (painful) path of self-destruction. It may seem suicidal for a team who wants to make it to a championship game to put in their third-string quarterback, but I think it was wise of Cutler to know he would only do more damage to himself and to his team's slender chance to win by trying to earn ego points.

Sure, from the outside looking in it seems weak. But Cutler's teammates, the guys who know him best, seem to be in support.

We always look at the "manly-man" approach to training, racing, and endurance sport, but we rarely remember one of the best lines ever spoken by a "manly-man" in the movies:

"A man's got to know his limitations." - Clint Eastwood, as "Harry Callahan," "Magnum Force" (1973)

So, I'll watch from the sidelines for now. Much better than watching on the TV while my season (s a runner) is over.