With a new baby keeping us up late, it was easy to find an excuse not to run much. I tried to squeeze in a run here and there, but I was getting frustrated with the plantar fasciitis, which seemed to be getting worse. I took a few weeks off from running in the early fall and focused on some deep calf stretches. That helped a little, but the pain came back as soon as I started running again. I ran a 5k just for fun in October. But by the time November rolled around, I had gained 10 pounds since my last marathon, and hadn’t run a distance more than 10 miles for several months. I needed some motivation. I needed to register for another marathon. So I did. Thanks to the encouragement of some friends in Dallas, I registered for the Cowtown marathon in Fort Worth, Texas.
We stayed at the Hutchings Hotel, which I'd highly recommend.
The pork burritos were amazing!
I started training again, and that’s when the barefoot form epiphany occurred. I was doing some research on running shoes and running form when I came across an article about some crazy-man called “Barefoot Ted.” He had run the Boston Marathon barefoot. What an idiot, I thought. Until the article made the claim that barefoot running improves your form and reduces injury. With my plantar fasciitis annoying me, injury reduction was just what I was looking for. But how could you run barefoot? Wouldn’t it tear your feet to shreds unless you spent months building up caveman-like calluses on your feet?
I did some more research and found several more articles touting the benefits of running barefoot. The arguments were all the same: 1) running barefoot naturally causes you to run properly, with the outer-edge of your forefoot striking the ground first, then rolling onto the ball of your foot, then absorbing the impact with the arch and achilles/calf like a spring, the whole motion occurring directly beneath you rather than in front of you; and 2) running shoes ruin your form by causing you to strike the ground with your heel first, your foot slightly in front of you, placing the majority of the impact on the knee and hip. Ironic, huh? The better your running shoes, the more you’ll heel strike, and the more injuries you’ll have. The less padding on the heel—in other words, going barefoot—the more you absorb the shock with the natural design and function of the foot, and the less injuries you’ll have. It made sense.
I stood up from the computer and jogged around the house a little on the hard floor. Immediately, I could tell that there was some truth to the argument. But I wasn’t about to start running around on pavement or a treadmill with my bare feet. So I started to look for footwear designed for a “barefoot from” style of running. Everything I found was either too extreme (Vibram Five Fingers) or too expensive (Newtons) or really not much different than a regular running shoe (Nike Free). Finally, I concluded that my best option was already in my closet: my older, “worn out” running shoes.
Like most runners, I was in the habit of buying a new pair when the heel of my shoes had lost a significant amount of its absorption power. So I put on my old running shoes for my next run, and changed my form. I forced myself you land on the forefoot, with a shorter, quicker stride. At first it felt awkward, like I was Mr. Twinkle-Toes prancing around. It also made me realize what a serious heel striker I normally was. And the next day, as I anticipated, my calves were sore, especially the lower half. But I also noticed that my joints, and really my whole body, just felt a little better at the end of my run.
I kept it up, gradually increasing my miles, and my speed as I adjusted to the form, and made some adjustments in my form. I concentrated on making sure my forefoot touched the ground first, but not so much that I was “on my toes” and straining my calves. It was more like a gradual roll from outer edge, to forefoot, to full foot on the ground, to heel lifting, and foot rolling forward into the next stride. It felt lighter, quicker, and more natural. Very soon, I had adjusted to a comfortable “barefoot form.” And my experience proved the claims I had read to be true: my legs stopped hurting so much. My plantar faschiitis went away. My knees and hips didn’t ache anymore after longs runs. My bowels even felt less-jostled and irritated. I was even able to run a little faster and felt less winded.
After every run using this form, I came home exuberant about how good I felt. The only noticeable strain was on my lower claves, but I supplemented with some calf raises, and soon enough, I had done my first 20-miler with my new form, and felt fabulous. I couldn’t believe the difference. The heel strike felt totally awkward and unnatural to me now whenever I tried it. I was convinced that barefoot form was the right way to run, and I could do it in my old running shoes with no problems. But I knew the truest test would be the marathon.
My goal was to see if I could come to the end of a marathon and actually feel good, which had yet to happen in the nine I’d run. The last few miles of every marathon I’d run were always filled with pain, my body screaming for me to stop running, and my mind asking, “Why are you doing this? You’d better not ever do this again.” And then the post-finish-line waddling around in pain. Could I finish a marathon in under four hours and not feel the horror? That was my question. Here’s the answer: YES! I did it at the Cowtown Marathon in Fort Worth, and I attribute it entirely to the barefoot form.
I trained trying to achieve a consistent 8:00 minute pace, but planned to run the marathon at a slower 8:30 pace. My goal was to run a steady 8:30 pace from beginning to end, finish in under 3:45, and see how I felt. As usual, I felt great for the first part of the marathon. But with the adrenaline and energy, that’s always the case. I just concentrated on not speeding up. I knew the true test would be how I felt at mile 20, 22, and 24, as always.
As I worked my way through the teen miles, I felt so good and strong, with plenty of breath, that I continually had to resist the temptation to speed up. The weather was cool and I stayed relaxed, and kept my pace. I kept telling myself, “Wait until mile 20, then see how you feel.” At mile 20, I still felt good. Yes, I was tired, obviously, but I didn’t have that horrible “stop-running-now!” feeling that usually crept over me at about this point. “Wait until mile 22, then see how you feel,” I told myself. And sure enough, at mile 22 I was feeling better than I ever had at that point. I was smiling. I was happy. I was even enjoying this part of the race. I was passing people who were hitting the wall of pain and/or exhaustion. “Wait until mile 24, then see how you feel.” I kept my pace, and at mile 24, I can honestly say that I actually felt good. I was not miserable or discouraged or trudging along. My legs were tired, especially my calves, but I felt light, strong, and relaxed. My bones didn’t feel like they had been hammering against each other for hours. So I let myself speed up a little. And then at mile 25 I quickened to just under an 8:00 minute pace, and my last mile was my fastest mile of the race. AND I FELT GOOD! Tight was all, whereas usually I felt tight and achy and stiff and sore and miserable.
Some hot cowgirls at the finish line
It was the first time I had ever run the second half of a marathon faster than the first. It was the first time I could walk around afterwards (which we did, around Cowtown) and feel well-enough to enjoy myself. It was the first time I finished a marathon and felt like I could say to myself, “You know what, that wasn’t so bad.” I could even begin to understand how for some people, running a marathon at a comfortable pace could be easy. And it could be done in a pair of $29.99 Sauconys from Big Five. When I ran a 3:15 at St. George to qualify for Boston, I felt so TERRIBLE after, I thought I had reached the peak of my running; I could never go faster than that or farther. But barefoot form has opened a whole new realm of possibilities. My goal of running a sub-three-hour marathon doesn’t seem impossible anymore, and for the first time I can imagine actually running an ultra marathon. I’m 37 and feeling like my best running days are still ahead of me.
Cruising around Cowtown
This guy was AMAZING on the mechanical bull!
Ride 'em cowboy!
