I just took my inaugural run in a pair of Vibram Five Fingers.

I’ve blogged about these before, but a couple of weeks ago, I finally took the plunge, putting my money (and feet) where my mouth was, and I ordered a pair.

Hilariously, on the same day that Amy called to tell me that I owed her $12.47 for taxes and border fees due on delivery (thanks, Canada Post!) I spotted a guy at the gym wearing the exact same pair that I had ordered. He told me that he loved his (whew) but that his first run in them had really been a workout for his calves.

After a couple of days wearing them sporadically around the house, getting used to them on my feet, I finally took them to the gym this afternoon.

I guess it hasn’t really sunk in yet — although I packed my Vibrams, I also made sure that I took a clean pair of socks. Habits.

Putting them on is a work in progress. Remember learning how to tie your shoes? Vibrams will help you. Although it’s velcro, wriggling your toes into each individual pocket is an exercise in figuring out your neural pathways, akin to learning how to wiggle your ears.

It turns out that I am right-footed, just like I am right-handed. This assumption comes because it was far, far easier for me to get my right foot into the Vibrams than my left. There are all kinds of tips and tricks — Vibram Five Fingers are the only shoes Iv’e ever seen that actually have instructions on the inside flap of the box — but nothing beats experience. Because I’ve worn “regular” shoes so long, my baby toes each curl underneath my, um, ring toes? Anyway, there’s a definite Chinese-foot-binding thing going on down there (look again at the picture atop this post, and you’ll see it) and Vibrams are designed to remedy that. They “lift and separate,” you might say, like a Wonderbra for feet.

Actually, after a while, my baby toes started to feel somewhat akin to a thumb — they felt oddly like they were sticking out, although it was just that they were pulled away from underneath my other toes for a change. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was pleasant, a bit like a light massage or a stretch.

After a weird feeling walking through the hallways and up the stairs at my local YMCA (it felt like I was both conspicuous and doing something illicit) I stretched out and got on the treadmill.

There is a lot less cushioning in these shoes than there is in a regular pair of shoes. You immediately notice the texture of the flooring, for example, whether it’s tile or carpet or wood planks. Overall, it’s good, but different. And, when I got on the treadmill, I quickly noticed that the “impact-cushioning” surface is not as I remembered it from my Nikes.

During walking, as I warmed up, the Vibrams were comfortable, but nothing unusual. It just felt like I was on the treadmill barefoot — and, again, like I was doing something illicit.

When I started running, though, is when I really noticed a difference. I quickly got over my thoughts of feeling “different” or conspicuous. I quickly started feeling tired.

I didn’t have any issues adapting to a new running style, although I did notice that I was “reaching out” with my foot, and landing closer to the ball of my foot, not on my heel. It felt fine — nothing felt unusual or different, although it clearly was. But my calves were burning. And my feet themselves were starting to feel tired, almost like I was running through sand.

There are tons of little muscles in my foot (Wikipedia says “more than a hundred muscles, tendons, and ligaments”) and they weren’t used to being run on like this. It was like I had taken a cast off, and now I needed the physiotherapy.

Not due to tiredness, but I was only able to spend about 10 solid minutes on the treadmill before I started feeling a hotspot on my left instep. Knowing that I was on the way to getting a blister, I hopped on a stationary bike instead.

I didn’t feel any different on a bike than if I had been wearing regular shoes. The treadmill was different — and, I think, better. As soon as I’m able to go a little longer, and a little faster, I think the blister will take care of itself. It’s a problem I have every spring with sandals anyway.

Longtime and diligent readers will recall that I first got interested in barefoot running because I had developed persistent, nagging foot pain while training for a half marathon last year. So far, no pain!

Now, I’m really looking forward to getting out there, running in the wild, with these shoes. I’m curious to see if my toes spread out more naturally, too. I’ll keep you posted.

 

Unless you have a subscription to Nature, you can’t read the article that this picture accompanies, but it’s striking (pun!) nonetheless. A bit of explanation:

If you normally run with shoes, especially ones with big, padded heels (read: most shoes) then you’ll run with what’s called a “rear-foot strike” or a “heel strike” or a “heel-toe strike.” That is, you’ll land on your heel, roll through the mid-foot and push off with your toes.

This probably even feels natural. I know it does to me — when I wear shoes, at least.

The middle graph of impact forces shows how steep and irregular is the pressure of your body weight coming down on your feet when you’re wearing shoes and running like this.

The top graph shows the exact same thing, except the pressures are even steeper and more jagged. Or, in science-speak: “Both RFS gaits generate an impact transient, but shoes slow the transient’s rate of loading and lower its magnitude.” That’s what happens when you run barefoot and use the same technique as when you run with shoes.

But now take a look at the bottom graph. That shows a type of running called a “fore-foot strike” and it’s the type of running gait that most barefoot runners will accustom to naturally (pun!) and it’s the type of running that you’ll see if you go to a primary school playground, and watch kids who haven’t yet overcompensated  for their shoes.

That graph shows a smooth, natural weight transfer. I think that’s because instead of landing hard on a bony heel, you’re letting your ankle absorb some of the weight by flexing and then pushing off.

I’ve said this before, but I’m pretty sure now that I’m buying a pair of Vibram Fivefingers.

Original Nature article here, if you happen to have a subscription. The abstracts says:

Kinematic and kinetic analyses show that even on hard surfaces, barefoot runners who fore-foot strike generate smaller collision forces than shod rear-foot strikers. This difference results primarily from a more plantarflexed foot at landing and more ankle compliance during impact, decreasing the effective mass of the body that collides with the ground. Fore-foot- and mid-foot-strike gaits were probably more common when humans ran barefoot or in minimal shoes, and may protect the feet and lower limbs from some of the impact-related injuries now experienced by a high percentage of runners.

(via @nxthompson)

More on running barefoot

 Posted by Grant Hamilton on 28 October 2009  Modern Life
Oct 282009
 

As I nurse my foot back to some semblance of health (I’m pretty sure it’s a foot sprain, which is a real killer, in terms of time it takes to heal the ease in which I can re-injure it) I’ve been obsessively taking in information about long-distance running — especially the growing trend towards barefoot running.

So, naturally, I read this article in the New York Times, which explores how evolution may have shaped the human body for distance running in a way that other animals weren’t.

Of course, I had read most of it before, but I was particularly interested in the linked video, in which a Times reporter runs barefoot — for the first time — with barefoot promoter Christopher McDougall.

I wish I could embed it, but you’ll just have to go to the article and watch it yourself. Suffice it to say that the reporter becomes convinced.

I’m less convinced about being able to avoid sharp gravel and things like glass — McDougall, in the video, says he uses “specialized equipment — eyeballs” to avoid rocks — but I’m pretty keen on the biomechanics of it all.

More on barefoot running

 Posted by Grant Hamilton on 30 August 2009  Modern Life
Aug 302009
 

From kind of a fringe thing that I’ve been following for only a few weeks, and only aware of for a few months, I’m starting to see the concept of barefoot running in more and more places.

I wrote about Vibram Five Fingers earlier this month, but now I see that the New York Times has joined the chorus:

Proponents of this approach contend that naked feet are perfectly capable of running long distances, and that encasing them in the fortress of modern footwear weakens foot muscles and ligaments and blocks vital sensory input about terrain.

“The shoe arguably got in the way of evolution,” said Galahad Clark, a seventh-generation shoemaker and chief executive of the shoemaker Terra Plana, based in London. “They’re like little foot coffins that stopped the foot from working the way it’s supposed to work.”

I am seriously thinking about picking up a pair of Vibrams — I just wish that I could try on a pair before I order online — and I’ve been trying to do more walking around barefoot. But for now, I’m hesitant. Maybe that’s because winter’s coming.

In the meantime, for crying out loud, watch this video that I posted earlier. It’s freaking hilarious.

Aug 122009
 

Ever since I started really training for the half-marathon that Keith and I ran in the spring, I’ve been dealing with on-again, off-again foot pain. I’ve been reading about how you can build foot strength and flexibility by running barefoot, and in my limited tests, I can see how it would really help.

But I’m not about to go running through glass and gravel to eliminate foot pain, right? So I’ve been thinking about buying a pair of Vibram Five Fingers. They’re like a cross between sandals, socks and gloves.

A review in the Guardian is ambivalent, but some people really like them:

I’d be curious if anyone out there has personal experience. Are they worth it?

May 112009
 

I have been thinking about running more than usual lately (see any of the 2G1L entries) and that has led me to looking at some running records.  Completely by accident, I came across the story of Shizo Kanakuri, a Japanese marathon runner who competed in the 1912 Summer Olympics in Stockholm.

Part way through the race, Kanakuri became overcome with the heat of the day.  According to some versions of the story, he stopped at a garden party for an hour, drank some orange juice then left.  The country, that is. 

Too ashamed to admit he had quit the race, he returned to Japan without telling the Swedish race officials who considered him a missing person for the next fifty years.  It was only in 1966 when a Swedish television crew tracked him down, living in southern Japan that his status changed (despite having participated in the 1920 Olympic Marathon, in which in came in 16th, and the 1924 Olympic Marathon which he again failed to complete). 

This same television crew invited Kanakuri to return to Stockholm to complete his 1912 run.  He did, giving him a time of 54 years, 8 months, 6 days, 8 hours, 32 minutes and 20.3 seconds.

My kind of race

 Posted by T. Keith Edmunds on 10 February 2009  2G1L
Feb 102009
 
Copyright by Spencer Hill, courtesy of flickr.

Copyright by Spencer Hill, courtesy of flickr.

I’ve been preparing to run a half marathon in the spring, with the goal of running a full marathon next year.  Although I know that the pay-off is supposed to be the self-satisfaction of reaching a goal, lately I’ve been wondering if there shouldn’t be some other sort of reward system in place.

Thus it was that I had decided this is the kind of race I could get into.

On sober second thought, however, maybe not.