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.

Peripatetically-Pleasing Publications

Today I took a day off work and spent a couple of hours at my local auto dealership. "What book to take with me?" I asked myself, walking out the door.

Come on. I'm not going to sit and watch cable television news channels. I stood transfixed in front of my living room bookshelves; it's not good for a September-born guy to be forced into choice...especially not with 300-plus titles stacked in the living room alone, and definitely not when a five-minute delay can mean the difference between sitting for two hours...or for three hours...in a lounge drinking coffee and eating doughnuts. In the case of this guy, less time is always better.

I chose a book I hadn't read in probably six years.

It was a tight spot which made me think, while traveling to Toyota Town, of another triad of tomes to tranquilize the (temporarily terrifying) tendency to tarry in tranquility near the tube:

Running and Being - Dr. George Sheehan
The late cardiologist and unofficially-but-near-universally-proclaimed philosopher-king of running wrote this book in the late 1970s, and many of his observations in this book were printed (often in toto) in Runners' World magazine. Like most folks who have the temerity to risk talking smack about Steve Prefontaine, reviewing a book like this - especially in the negative - is only going to get you in deep trouble. Reading Sheehan, especially for the young, inexperienced (in life) runner, is like reading the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard or the Brazilian liberation educator Paulo Freire. You aren't going to read great portions of this book, not unless you didn't want to learn anything. I've borrowed portions (the bag) for blog posts, as well as for biomechanical analyses (neuromas) to pass to my athletes.

This book goes best with (at least!) one pot of good coffee.

Ultramarathon Man - Dean Karnazes
I almost ran over Dean Karnazes in the lobby of the Hyatt Fisherman's Wharf during the Road Runners Club of America convention two years ago. I was running to the ballroom to have lunch with my wife; he was running to the bathroom before his lunch presentation in the ballroom. Suffice it to say I am pleased we didn't make contact. Karnazes is probably a solid three inches shorter than I and built like a...well, you've all heard the analogies.

He's also an entertaining speaker and a very good writer. Suzanne raved about him on the trip home; the only presenter other than Frank Shorter she mentioned by name. And when an avowed non-fanatical runner like my wife mentions someone - by name - it truly means something. What strikes me about Karnazes' first work is not so much the screenplay-like way he chronicles his relationship with his family, his painful beginning in ultramarathon (I can smell the rotten cantaloupe!), and his quest to stretch the limits of human endurance...blended in with cell phone ordered pizza delivery, minibuses filled with goldfish crackers, and banana bread. Trust me; you'll never look at banana bread in the same way after this book. Some of my friends have read his follow-up works and proclaimed them as a little less entertaining than the first, but I've already subscribed to the "sequel rarely meets the first work" mindset. This work is well worth acquiring. I may change my mind after I read his 50 marathons/50 states/50 days chronicle, though.

This book goes best with (at least) one cup of Starbucks and a slice of cherry cheesecake.

Every Second Counts - Lance Armstrong (and Sally Jenkins)
The Greek philosopher Heraclitus is reported to have said, "you cannot step into the same river twice." And Armstrong (Jenkins) appears to have learned this over the course of the four years covered in book number two. Whether it's Armstrong who read about Dithyrambos - "he who walks through the second door" - or Jenkins saw the parallel, it's hard to say. Considering we are talking about a guy who's repeated a few things (Tour de France victories, relationships, lawsuits) more than once in his time, I'm certain he even appreciated the analogy.

Every Second Counts is a fitting follow-up to It's Not About The Bike, which talked much about what got Lance to the first yellow jersey in 1999. This time, however, we do get to see the rough edges and shortcomings. Armstrong long has considered himself - unlike very many of his yellow wristband-wearing fans - no saint. He provides an honest, almost sensitive assessment of life as man, father, athlete, survivor, businessman, and icon, things which definitely affected his marriage to Kristin. As of late, much has been made in the press and several recent books about doping...and Lance's way of dealing with sources who allege his use.

I read Every Second Counts around the same time as Brad Kearns' fawning How Lance Does It, Floyd Landis' Positively False: How I Won The Tour De France, and David Walsh's From Lance to Landis. The only title which still sits on my bookshelf of the previous three is Walsh. If I had only read It's Not About The Bike I think I would have a negative opinion of the seven-time champion. I have doubts about whether he was completely clean, but it's only a sliver. Yes, a Kierkegaardian one.

This book goes best with a tall, cold Shiner Bock.

The Will To Prepare

Any major marathon, especially one like any of Competitor Group's Rock n' Roll series, has no lack of interesting stories and "did I just see?" moments. I'm lucky; as an average guy who has friends in high places, the perspective is a little different than the average race participant; I'm grateful to have friends who spread the tent wider when I'm in the mood to do a little bit of work. And when I'm injured, I'd rather be doing something constructive. Last time I got seriously "injured" was not long after I started doing triathlon, decided to tempt gravity one Sunday morning, and ended up writing blog posts like the one-armed bandit I envisioned myself to be for that six-week period of time.

An injured, rehabilitating runner often has two plans of action. The first and least effective plan is to go into isolation. It's less painful to avoid answering the "what happened?" and "how long will you be that way?" questions, but eventually we need to get out among those going "shanks' mare." I've said many times "running hurts; not running hurts more," it's easier to feel better while we are getting better by giving back to the community of which we are a part.

We were walking through the race expo at the New Orleans Convention Center to get my race staff credentials on Friday afternoon; I saw a slender gentleman with salt and pepper hair. I had one of those Darth Vader moments: 'a presence I haven't felt since...' Ah, but there are plenty of people in this life who look like someone else, so I shrugged it off. I almost said something to Suzanne, my wife; she probably would have told me to go catch him...trouble is he knows her better than he knows me. You see, Suzanne decided to have one last beer at the bar in the Hyatt in San Francisco after the RRCA convention two years ago. Frank Shorter was the banquet speaker that evening, and was holding court in the bar. He called out to Suzanne as she walked in, something along the lines of "where's your husband? Why didn't he come down?" Okay, I was tired of hanging out in my "misplaced college professor" attire.

Next morning, while walking into the staff hospitality area, I realize the gentleman I thought was Frank Shorter actually was. He was chatting with the elite and guest runners; he probably would have recognized my wife if she had been there. Again, like the last time I was close enough to say hello, I decided to not be a fawning fan. Many folks love to have those photo moments - I'm not one of them, for a couple of reasons. The first one is that it seems so contrived. I would much rather have sat with Shorter over a couple of beers and let him talk about Munich and "Pre" and how good we have it now in the highly-democratic era of participatory running, where all you have to do is have desire, the entry fee - and in some cases, a little luck - to get into most major races. The second one is I rarely prepare for the possibility. Travel light, travel fast; that's the code under which I live. Sea stories are more portable than scrimshaw.

Later on that afternoon, once the temperature had climbed from the mid-40s at 7 in the morning to somewhere closer to the mid-60s...and maybe a little higher, I marveled at the back-of-the-pack marathoners as they finished. All right, at least they made it to the starting line healthy and got to have their finish line moment underneath the oak trees in City Park. But I saw so many of them who looked like they prepared for a much colder day on the course. There were guys in sweats. There were guys in wind pants and warm-up pants. There were more ladies in CW-X tights than at which a person could shake a stick. And long-sleeved tops. And music headphones. At a Rock n' Roll series event. With bands at every mile...and impromptu entertainment added.

I talked with my wife and my athletes during the week before the race and recommended a few clothing items for race day. I even bought my wife a pair of arm-warmers at the expo, in the hope she would wear them instead of a long-sleeved top...which she did. She bought herself a pair of comfortable padded socks on the recommendation of her girlfriend, another one of my athletes, whose claim to fame is finishing the infamous 2007 Chicago Heat Wave, er, Marathon, before Carey Pinkowski finally shut the course down.

But, when I stood by and listened to some of the questions which were asked to the information desk volunteers at the expo, I couldn't help but wonder whether race participants are being spoon-fed and don't know how to prepare themselves for a race.

The Internet puts our location information out (on course) for our family to see where we are, not to mention weather forecasts for five or more days in advance, places where we can park without getting ticketed or towed, dates, times and locations for where we can pick up the information, which we also can download from parts of the same web page. We have mapping programs which provide elevation profiles we can download to our GPS units. And yet, we really prefer someone else to tell us exactly how to prepare and what to do.

Three-time Boston Marathon "bridesmaid" Juma Ikangaa said: "The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare." Maybe we don't want to find out how good we are? Is this so we can lay the responsibility for our shortcomings at someone else's feet? I'm not certain. Once again, as part of the democratic society we enjoy as runners, we are also saddled with the responsibility to use the freedom to run wisely. For me, running wisely is running prepared for the conditions, the natural and human terrain, and within our limitations.

After seeing many of those finishers, and hearing many of those questions, I cannot wait to get back into running again.