I started running barefoot again last spring, 2011. I got up to three miles within a month, then got top-of-the-foot pain—a stress reaction in my left foot’s metatarsals. After that got better, I made a push from five to ten miles last fall, and got a tiny stress fracture, also in the left foot. It took all winter running just 1-3 miles most outings before that cleared up. Probably should’ve just rested it, but I was getting off on the whole winter barefoot running thing and couldn’t give it up.
So this spring I started slowly building up the distance again, with an attendant focus on increasing pace, and the mets held up well. A little post-run achiness from time to time, but no real pain. So after I had been doing five miles comfortably for some time, three weeks ago I decided to try to push the distance a bit more. Six miles, no problem. Seven, also fine. Eight miles last week at 10 mm pace, and it was a blast.
OK I thought, time to try 10 miles again. It had been 9-10 months since my last attempt. So today I set out, and the first 5-6 miles felt good, I felt strong, and the people along the way seemed especially friendly, almost like well-wishers along a race stage, urging me gently along on my quest for decimal success. Then my left knee started to stiffen up a bit, and soon my legs in general just wanted to stop. Hadn’t felt that urge since I first started getting back in shape. Problem was, I was still 4-5 miles away from my house, and I didn’t really want to walk all that way back, so I stretched out the legs a bit, at several stops, got to 9.3 miles, and then finally gave in and walked the last part home. The last several miles running were not fun, at a plus 11mm pace, which felt terrible. It was interesting though, when I was really feeling fatigued and heavy, I could feel the whole biomechanical chain involved in running very pronouncedly. I could feel the lower back muscles supporting the hips, the hips delivering power as my leg moved underneath and behind me, the hamstring reflexively pulling the other leg forward, and so on. Almost like someone had taken a highlighting pen to my body. I focused all my attention on seizing this sensation to maintain good form and force application, and this helped get me home, both physically and mentally. So that was a useful, semi-Zen-like exercise.
But what the run really taught me is that I’m a recreational runner, pure and simple. I’m someone who runs for fun, for joy. Not the euphoria of overcoming hardship or pain, but the euphoria of feeling one’s body moving well and relaxedly. Not without effort, but without strain. Even when I was having trouble with my metatarsals, I always had fun. So while others may get off on overcoming adversity, pain, testing their limits, or 'just finish'-ing, I say more power to them, but I’m an unabashed recreationalist. A recreational runner, and proud of it.
So this spring I started slowly building up the distance again, with an attendant focus on increasing pace, and the mets held up well. A little post-run achiness from time to time, but no real pain. So after I had been doing five miles comfortably for some time, three weeks ago I decided to try to push the distance a bit more. Six miles, no problem. Seven, also fine. Eight miles last week at 10 mm pace, and it was a blast.
OK I thought, time to try 10 miles again. It had been 9-10 months since my last attempt. So today I set out, and the first 5-6 miles felt good, I felt strong, and the people along the way seemed especially friendly, almost like well-wishers along a race stage, urging me gently along on my quest for decimal success. Then my left knee started to stiffen up a bit, and soon my legs in general just wanted to stop. Hadn’t felt that urge since I first started getting back in shape. Problem was, I was still 4-5 miles away from my house, and I didn’t really want to walk all that way back, so I stretched out the legs a bit, at several stops, got to 9.3 miles, and then finally gave in and walked the last part home. The last several miles running were not fun, at a plus 11mm pace, which felt terrible. It was interesting though, when I was really feeling fatigued and heavy, I could feel the whole biomechanical chain involved in running very pronouncedly. I could feel the lower back muscles supporting the hips, the hips delivering power as my leg moved underneath and behind me, the hamstring reflexively pulling the other leg forward, and so on. Almost like someone had taken a highlighting pen to my body. I focused all my attention on seizing this sensation to maintain good form and force application, and this helped get me home, both physically and mentally. So that was a useful, semi-Zen-like exercise.
But what the run really taught me is that I’m a recreational runner, pure and simple. I’m someone who runs for fun, for joy. Not the euphoria of overcoming hardship or pain, but the euphoria of feeling one’s body moving well and relaxedly. Not without effort, but without strain. Even when I was having trouble with my metatarsals, I always had fun. So while others may get off on overcoming adversity, pain, testing their limits, or 'just finish'-ing, I say more power to them, but I’m an unabashed recreationalist. A recreational runner, and proud of it.
