181km barefoot in 24 hours: Gait lesson #2
By Dayrunner
Rob Knowles during the Coburg 24-hour race in Melbourne, Australia
Before the race:After running 166km barefoot in my first 24 hour race last June, emotions were high; I had just run a distance that only a year before had seemed inconceivable. Physically, however, I wasn’t feeling quite so flash. I distinctly recall saying at the end of the race that "I don't currently have any desire to do that again." No bloody wonder, my feet were visibly swollen and bruised, and the inside of my ankles were very sore. I'm not exactly sure how it feels to be a human piñata, but I reckon I was pretty close there for about three days.
Thankfully I have a poor memory and an excitable nature; within a couple of weeks I had forgotten the physical discomfort and was making noises about wanting to do a similar race again. So in February this year I had another crack at the 100km barefoot record, on a road surface this time, and was able to shave an hour and a half off my previous time. After the 100km race however, I was still feeling the soreness on the inside of the ankles that I got after the 24hr race. It was possible that such soreness was inevitable after running in excess of 9 hours, but I held on to the belief that it could be avoided somehow.
Adapting my gait in preparation for learning to run barefoot had been my Gait lesson #1; I learned that by not overstriding I could avoid sore hamstrings and run more efficiently. In the back of my mind I thought that a similar lesson could lay in wait to avoid this inner-ankle soreness in long races. I tried remedial massage, self-massage, got an ultrasound and did more strength work in bare feet to try to remedy it, but still it lingered. Not significant enough to interfere with my training and racing schedule, but certainly enough to make me think that I was getting feedback from my body that I needed to respond to somehow.
Then this April, about 2 weeks before the Coburg 24hr (my next target race, and host race for the Australian 24-hour championships), I got the breakthrough I was hoping for. I was doing a 2 hour session on the track and decided to try something which I have been instructed to do in yoga classes over the years whilst static, but haven’t really thought to try whilst running before: I scanned my body for tightness and focused my attention on relaxing any areas that seemed tense. There’s nothing too technical about this, it’s really just another form of proprioception over and above the stuff us barefooters are familiar doing with the feet. I scanned through my gait and it was apparent that I could relax my quads somewhat, whilst still maintaining my running form. Furthermore, this seemed to reduce the load on my inner-ankle tendon (the Posterior Tibial Tendon to be precise). This came as a surprise as I had been under the impression that the adaptation to barefoot running had “fixed” my gait. The reality was in fact a little more complex: I had consciously improved my gait in order to be able to run barefoot; the (proprioceptive) sensations from my bare feet had further refined this gait, but it wasn't enough for me to just sit back and enjoy the ride from hereon in. There was valuable feedback that my body was broadcasting to me from areas other than my feet, and whilst out on the track that day I had just managed to tune in to a bit more of it.
At the time it felt a little risky taking a gait change with only limited testing into a 24-hour race, but with only of two of these 24-hour track races a year in Australia I felt it was worth a shot…
During the race:
The first half of the race was all as expected really. It might sound flippant to say that the first 11 hours felt like the warm up, but if you want to get through a whole 24 hours of running then it really helps to be able to trivialise large chunks of time like this in your head.
There’s always one joker who’ll tell you your shoelace is undone…
The twelfth hour however was straight out of the warm-up, bypass the frying pan and straight into the fire. It was my worst hour, psychologically, of the whole 24. I had started losing my pace, in fact I was now behind the pace at the same point in my previous 24 hour race, and my mate who was also racing had overtaken me. I felt like I was going backwards, yet I still had 12+ hours to go. I am an optimistic person, but within the in the highs and lows of a 24-hour cycle there’s just too much opportunity for the wheels to come off at some point. And when it comes, if quitting isn’t an option then all you can do is endure the low whilst you try and find a solution, like some wretched soul scratching around in the dirt, looking for a lost key.As I entertained bleak thoughts about the race over that hour, a “key” eventually was forthcoming when I made an executive decision. Rather than plough on stoically like I had done in the previous 24 hour race, I was instead going to invest some time in sorting myself out. I took an ibuprofen (the only one I took in the race), a large helping of microwave noodles and a cup of sugary Earl Grey tea. I then sought some release for my hip flexors, which were accumulating tightness. This probably took about half an hour all up, the thought of which wasn't exactly encouraging to my chances of improving on my PB. What happened next, however, changed all that: I got back out onto the track and the world seemed a much better place. I actually ran 10km in that next hour, which at this stage of the race was a pretty darn healthy pace. I was sitting on the shoulder of the race leader for a couple of laps before he stepped to one side to let me pass, the “low” was officially over!
As soon as that speedy hour was up I had to ease back a bit; I had been proving a point to myself but it had worked. The realisation that I could feel as crap as I did in the previous hour and then come back like that was all I needed to get me through the next 11 hours. It was as simple as that. To feel that good after having felt so bad meant that I didn’t have to worry anymore about any low spots that might be waiting. And so it was, I continued through the night in a positive mood; my run was ground down to a walk in the last couple of hours, but my self-imposed target of 180km was in sight and after 24 hours I finished up with a total of 454 laps and 1m, equal to 181.601km. The gait change had worked, there was no soreness on the inner ankles and my feet weren’t swollen and bruised like after the previous 24-hour race. In fact I felt pretty darn good by comparison:
24hours and 5 minutes later…
After the race:Alongside the personal challenge and the sensory experience, the other joy us barefoot runners get to experience is in the “representing”. To this end I was stoked to receive the Race Directors’ Endurance Award, and with it the following positive recognition for barefoot running in the Race Directors’ Report:
“And all through this unfolding drama, barefoot runner Rob Knowles just kept at it, padding along lightly with his economical and relaxed technique - his final distance of 181.601km saw him break his own Guinness Book of Records 24 Hour distance by 15km. Interestingly, of all the competitors, he was by far the freshest at the presentations with no signs of blisters or sore feet or any obvious discomfort. Food for thought indeed!”
Collecting the Race Directors’ award at the post-race ceremony
The barefoot journey is proving a very rewarding experience, but there’s still a long way to go. Gait lesson #3 is waiting for me, and I’ve worked out what it is I need to fix – my hips. I’m still running with a slight anterior pelvic tilt (i.e. my pelvis dips forward slightly). I haven’t figured out the solution yet, but I know if I can then I’ll be better able to absorb the loading of these longer races and go farther & faster.How to run 180km without blisters, Step 1: Take your bloody shoes off!
Pictures courtesy of the Coburg 24-Hour Race Directors