Ticky Tacky and Toe Shoes

First, a very big tip of the running cap to Malvina Reynolds for her song, "Little Boxes." Those of you who have seen the Showtime series, Weeds, know this little song:

"Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky; little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same. There's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one, and they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same."

I have a copy of Bill Squires' "Fast Tracks: A History of Distance Running Since 884 BC," and recently looked back at the shoes of distance runners of the late 19th and early 20th century. To look at the overwhelming majority of the pedestrians it's simple to understand why running might be looked upon as a frivolous pursuit. Most of the photos and lithographs show them in lightweight leather shoes or sneakers.

And when I talk sneakers, I'm not talking about the stuff I wore playing indoor volleyball in the mid-1990s, but Keds and Chuck Taylors, the shoes I played in as a youngster up until my first pair of tennies issued to me in the Air Force in 1980. Since running tracks were cinder or dirt in those days I bet there wasn't much of a demand for cushioned shoes. And I can guess most folks didn't do a lot of distance running because the shoes weren't all that supportive for their feet. My loving bride ran the Crescent City Classic ten-kilometer road race in a pair of hot pink Chuck Taylors. I bought that pair because they looked good with the costume she was wearing, not thinking she would get fed up with walking and decide to run the last two miles. Ten years later, she swears she'll never pull that sort of stunt ever again.

And the people in the houses all went to the university, where they were put in boxes and they came out all the same. And there's doctors and lawyers, and business executives, and they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

Frank Shorter's Olympic marathon victory in 1972 is heralded as the advent of the first running boom, which was aided by the mass-marketing of trainers by shoe manufacturers like adidas, Onitsuka (now Asics) and Nike. I had no clue whether the shoes I had for track my senior year in high school, a pair of Sears-Roebuck-branded joggers (I would have gladly traded, along with my step-mother, for a pair of adidas), were harmful to my feet. At least I was able to protect my tootsies from the myriad of thorns and stones I encountered on my training runs.

Fast-forward a quarter-century and technology has advanced to the point where our shoes can almost talk to us. Nike gave us air. Asics gave us gel. Saucony gave us grid. And we gave more of our hard-earned dough for more of their technology. Ever see a pair of shoes which looked so damned ugly you knew they were not meant for you? I have three words: Asics Gel Kinsei.

And they all play on the golf course and drink their martinis dry, and they all have pretty children, and the children go to school, and the children go to summer camp and then to the university, where they are put in boxes and they come out all the same.

The great monolith Nike waited until after the death of Bill Bowerman. Visionary, tinkerer, and curmudgeon, Bowerman eventually criticized his own initial creation and Nike's tendency to add too much to the shoe over time...for no other reason than to make money off the running public. Too much money for too much needless technology. Much to their horror, Nike also learned some their sponsored athletes (particularly under coach Vin Lanana) were training barefoot. How can you make money off the bare foot? Looks like a lot of the shoe manufacturers went back to making shoes which either were light and minimally-supportive like racing flats, or like reinforced socks.

You would think the "barefoot running" purists would rejoice at the market slowly turning back toward lightweight, minimally-supportive, minimally-cushioned shoes as a method of strengthening the lower extremities of runners while protecting from the most hazardous aspects of modern outdoor running. But no.

And the boys go into business and marry and raise a family in boxes made of ticky tacky and they all look just the same. There's a green one and a pink one, and a blue one and a yellow one, and they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

I thought I had seen parochialism and dogmatism in the world of training plans and coaching philosophies. The "barefoot" community makes almost any other pluralistic group seem, well, pluralist. Case in point: I purchased a pair of Fila Skele-Toes, partly because I wanted to try out a pair of "barefoot" shoes (I'm not certain what one would consider a foot covering for the "barefoot" running enthusiast, so "shoes" will have to do.), and partly because I did not want to spend the money on a more-expensive pair of Vibrams. To look at the comparison reviews, one would think they had inadvertently landed on the forum of "The Nation" or "The American Spectator".

The Fila Skele-Toes are definitely not as flexible in the sole area as the Vibrams. There are also versions of the Fila with soles which look much like the Nike Free, with a little more firmness. But, the Filas have less cushion than my K-Swiss K-Ona triathlon running shoes (a borderline minimalist shoe) and are narrower in the footbed, so it's a good step in the direction of a completely barefoot walking experience. Yes, I said walking. I have no intention to move in the general direction of barefoot running. I want to see if a minimalist shoe/modality enables me to develop enough lower extremity strength to protect the achilles tendons.

And if it works, I could care less what the Vibram/barefoot purists have to say.

Because we all don't have to be the same.

Alice's Restaurant

Went out for a run on New Years' Day with a couple of (former) athletes and good friends. Late into the run, my friend Beverly told me about a mutual friend of ours, Mel, who became so motivated by his performance at Ironman Florida he took up running with a passion. Next thing she knew, she said, he read Christopher MacDougal's "Born to Run" and began training for a "real" marathon. We spent the remainder of the run discussing the next book to recommend; she thought it should be John L. Parker, Jr's. "Again To Carthage," I held out for "Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner," by Dean Karnazes.

Listening to "born-again runners" is a joy. Most of them cannot help but reveal what they consider their personal (secret) revelation to the world around them. Most runners know there really are no secrets, other than 'train your heart out, rest when not training.' I also like to hear someone speak about running, as Arlo Guthrie once sung, "with feeling..."

Sometimes the feeling can make us parochial, even dogmatic, about what we think is best for our fellow runner. As a coach, I admit I've recommended running specialty shops, web sites, coaches, training plans, races, lodging, and - on rare occasions - shoes, equipment, and gadgetry. Years after my last lodging arrangement, I still get 'hey, just curious if you're booking rooms for such-and-such race' e-mails. From people who never trained with me.

"...you should tell every young runner to use (brand) running shoes and (device)," the boy said to George and myself over a beer last night. That's the type of statement to which my old coach, Dale Fox, would reply, "Oh? Really?" Rather than immediately shut my ears to what Steve (a.k.a. "the boy") said I decided to take a few moments and listen. Not so much to dissassemble his assertion like an assault rifle, eventually laying the greasy little parts in front of him. I trained for a few years alongside Steve's his father, so there's a familial obligation involved. I also appreciate the boy's "salta de qualitat," or recent leap in his run performances.

Shoe manufacturers can market their shoes with a statement saying "the way you should run," but normative statements don't get marketing gurus and advertising agencies in hot water. That kettle of fish is usually saved for the coach or the running emporium proprietor who has to hear from the athlete, 'so, what do you think of...?' So the shoe, which costs about 20 percent more than what the athlete already wears, is designed to make the athlete adapt their running gait? Ah, but if I were to focus the athlete on a faster turn-over and a shorter stride - the very same mechanics the shoe purports to encourage - would they give me the additional 20 percent they would have spent on the shoe?

Probably not. Shoes are sexy. Coaching isn't.

There are an abundance of gadgets on the market which are a great help to runners, but there are certain things a massage therapist will be able to do that a roller, stick, or ball won't. But a runner on a tight budget may consider self-massage items a good (inexpenxive) substitute for regular massage therapy. I have a retired friend who knows his way around a dollar. I guess when you can retire before 55 you have a blend of skill, luck and the ability to know your way around a greenback. Rather than spend 40 dollars on a self-massage modality, he took the same 40 bucks and made a bunch of very-workable self-massage sticks, giving them out as holiday presents a couple of years ago. I still have his stick in the corner of my living room, next to a 100-dollar massage kit. You can take a wild guess which gets used more often.

A new friend, Galen, ran (at least) seven marathons in seven days last week here. He told me he sees the strangest things at some of the distance runs he does. Probably the most frightening was the (his words) "runner wearing the Camelbak as well as the 'hand grenade' bottle belt."

Overkill? I think so. Galen told me he asked the name of the running store proprietor, probably in order to tell newbie runners "enter at your own peril."

So before I "rhetorically" sing a bar of "Alice's Restaurant" ('you can get anything you want...') and walk out of any conversation, I always like to remind friends that every runner is a unique experiment, a sample population of one. What works for you, works for you. If you see something cool and new, take the time to do the research or ask if you can give it a trial run before springing the big bucks.

That's probably one more race entry, from what I can figure. Races are more fun than gadgets.

Joggers? Welcome!

I showed up at the beach run last night to see a good friend in the parking lot. Ron had just returned from a six-week sojourn in Michigan. After the requisite insults and innuendo we started our trek on the six-mile loop, at a mutually-agreed upon pace; laughable for him, comfortable for me. I knew he was going to want to talk about his time in the Great White North, so the pace was soon to become one where I could speak little.

We initially joked about the weather conditions, which explain why I live in the South...

Ron: "I was scraping ice off my window two days ago."

Me: "The only glass. I want ice to touch. Is one filled. With unsweetened tea. Or an adult. Beverage of choice. Depends on time of day."

Ron then told me about a couple of track workouts he ran with a local running group, and the running club affiliated with the (multinational) company for which he was briefly employed.

"They said, 'oh, we have some really fast runners in this group. One of our guys ran a (blank)-minute 5K.' I went out running with him twice. The dude was a hockey player; in decent shape, but not really fast." Having seen his rear at more than my share of road races I know what Ron defines as "fast."

I responded, "Gee, thanks, Ron. Glad you're being. Nice to me. Since I haven't. Run that time. For 5K. Since my injury." At least he didn't call me "fat." Or a "jogger."

What is a jogger? Why is there this insulting connotation to a term which, to the majority of runners, seems as nebulous as a presidential definition of sex?

The English language has used the term "jog" to talk about movement (running included) since at least the mid-16th century. Arthur Lydiard made "jogging" popular in New Zealand during the early 1960s; fitness and sociability seemed to be the rationale for very easy running (defined by UK-based running coach Mike Antoniades as a pace slower than 10 minutes per mile). Bill Bowerman, coach of Steve Prefontaine, literally "wrote the book" on jogging and its benefits, way back in 1966.

The running philosopher Dr. George Sheehan, in 'Running and Being,' wrote "the difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank." If you started running because of an event put on by a running club, or you joined a running club which didn't exist before 1962, you most likely owe your running habit (obsession? routine?), and perhaps a word of thanks, to a jogger.

So where and why does the arrogance toward joggers exist in the running community? From what I've observed it certainly isn't the elite or former elite road racers who harbor such animosity, pity or contempt. One usually needs to look a little farther back in the pack than the elites, a little closer to the point where the bell curve starts to rise. These are the guys/gals who (often) didn't quite win the genetics, training, coaching, recovering or incentivizing lotteries...or didn't buy the ticket...and prefer to tell how good they could have, would have, should have been...and how others will never be.

In their mind, THEY are runners. Everyone else behind them are just joggers.

I've engaged in such arrogant behavior in the past. I've also been called out for it. There are values, assumptions and closed beliefs, bordering on the edge of dogma, which exist in the mind of the "jogger haters."

They (falsely) assume other persons are not exerting the effort they are, therefore they lack the desire and are "children of a lesser god." Boy, was I disabused of this assumption by my loving wife, a long time ago. She took me to task one night after a track workout, saying, "Michael, just because we're running our quarters a minute slower than you are doesn't mean we aren't working hard. Believe me, we are."

The value system also is different. "Real runners" consider their title earned because they are faster on race day. They consider themselves superior to those pitiable souls who are still plodding about on the course as they reach for their first post-race beer. Their medals, beer glasses and coffee mugs were hard-won, and sometimes, considered to be their right: Why go five-deep at a race? It's only the first three in the age group who should be lauded.

Then, there's the near-religious dogmatic belief that one particular training group, training plan, workout, magazine, shoe or nostrum is guaranteed to make a better runner. "If you really wanted to improve as a runner you would do exactly what I do, or train with my group, or do this particular workout. Because you don't I can only guess you are lazy or unmotivated." This point of view has probably been the most difficult for me to get past as a group coach. I have learned over time there are more viable obstacles than strictly:

1. "Parentism," the nearly-two-decade extension of the state of maternity
2. Education
3. Work, and
4. Citizenship.

I've heard excuses, and I've heard rationales over the past six years. After that period of time you smile, shake your head, and continue to promulgate an "open door" policy.

I only hope, on that "invisible door" of my life, there's a sign posted for all to "see:"

Joggers Welcome.