The Irony of Taking Off the Shoes

Like many runners, I think, I stumbled mistakenly on the concept of barefoot running. This year I want to run a marathon, but having experienced trouble with running long distances in the past, I was hesitant to try. In an effort open the window to the outside and let the light of inspiration shine warmly upon my trepidation, I found Chris McDougal's book Born to Run. Suddenly I found myself glued to the Kindle screen of my Droid, frantically flipping through pages soaking up the search for Caballo Blanco and the Tarahumara... and of course, their barefoot running style... their injury free barefoot running style. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my brain, the idea sounded familiar, like some vague childhood memory. I read on.

After researching the barefoot running online and various other places, I figured it was time. Loading up my nearly-two-year-old son into his jogger, I laced up my shoes, walked outside, took OFF the shoes and ran in my socks. Immediately, my feet shifted to a forefoot striking method. The trudgery of thud-thud-thud-rubber-meeting-concrete was gone. All you could hear were passing cars and chirping birds. My cadence increase and gait settled. My heart rate, for the first time EVER, stayed in a very comfortable range climbing hills. It was natural, freeing, like skinny dipping on a hot August evening. Just amazing. But as the run went on, I began to notice muscles that I did not realize I had. It was time to back off. Time for a transition.

Enter the great shoe debate...