I am being running barefoot in the cold for a while now and enjoying the thrill again and again. Though this week didn't offer much opportunities as everything was wet and gritted with temperature slightly above 0° C. I more or less have only one route to run, which I can vary in length depending on my condition during the run. The start and the end is pavement for each 1.5 km and the middle part is composed of a trail going along two lakes with varying length from 5 to 10 km. This trail is mostly dirt or sand without any snow-plowing service or alike, so generally quite barefoot friendly. The trail is mostly used by dog owners, weekend walkers and of course runners, it can be quite busy at times. As it is my only route I frequent I know all the roots and stones inside out. But that didn't help today.
I already had experience running barefoot on that trail in hard-packed snow conditions which was quite enjoyable. Today however was different. The snow from last week had melted during the week and the gritted pavements had been partly cleaned and the cold of the last days somehow had dried the roads and pavements as well. So when I came home yesterday, it was clear that I couldn't wait for more perfect conditions and decided to give it try the next day, which was today. When I woke up, it was already past 10 am. I looked out of the window and it must have just recently started to snow very, very gently. The snow was still dancing on the dry roads propelled by the wind. Sure, beautiful to watch, but if it were to continue, I knew that I wouldn't break any records today. One long johns, a lose running pants, 3 long shirts, a wind breaker jacket, thick gloves, headband and ankle warmer later, I saw more snow coming. Remembering what one biology teacher told us years ago, I started putting milking grease on top of my feet. In theory that grease should prevent the melting water from the snowflakes to suck out the heat of my feet or so. My feet looked as if they were ready to perform in a bodybuilder contest, glossy and sparkling.
To get the heat pump starting I did some jumping jacks and squats. To heat up my feet I usually rub them all over the carpet until the soles have been sufficiently warmed by the friction energy, that is usually the last I do before I leave the house. As I made it a rule in subfreezing temperature to carry spare shoes, in my case the Sole Runner FX Trainer, which look like Feelmax Kuusaa, but improved of course, at least that is what the producer want one to believe. One shoe in the left, the other with the keys in the right, both rolled in, up it goes.
The first one and half kilometer on pavement are always a struggle, partly cleaned of grit means only partly pleasant and the same goes for partly heated feet, though I have to give my feet some credit for not getting numb at all in the beginning, it is just the damn sole that resists to feel comfortably. The snow had already stack up to a incredible tenth of an inch and the foot prints I left were immediately recognized by a trained eye. The milked grease seemed to do something as I didn't feel any cold from the fallen snowflakes. Usually, when I come to the first lake and its dirt/sand trail my feet are in perfect condition, warm and sentient, but this time my soles still screamed and pleaded to stop that nonsense. As I mentioned earlier the trail is not snow-plowed and as a result the snow melts and freezes as it wishes. The fresh fallen snow was now thick enough to obscure the nature of the ground beneath it, so I had to give it a try to find out what there was beneath. I hit the icepot immediately, but prevented a fall by some artistic moves. I tried to adjust to the new condition. It wasn't my first time on ice, as I had an adventure on the same lake but frozen last winter after an attempt in ice skating , but back then I knew were the snow was plowed for skating that it was slippy and I had my fun with it, of course barefoot as well. Now was different, first I was running and therefore not as stable and second the icy parts came out of the blue. The only upside of all this, was that my soles remembered to relaxed or my brain stopped listening as it was preoccupied by the greater threat of falling down.
Most walkers and runners I encounter left the trail for its save leaves on the side or were equally occupied by the new challenge they faced by the fresh snow and the hidden ice. "Had I just gotten up an hour earlier which was entirely possible, I could have avoided this slippery slip. I would have seen were the icy parts were and could have eluded them entirely." Shish Kabobs! BANG! There I was on the ground, distress and pain coming from my extremities. Where are my shoes? Oh no, that shod runner coming towards me saw everything, perfect. At least he didn't say anything and was looking quite worrying himself. I was up in no time, checking my feet, the milked grease had joined with the dirt, the pants where intact, but dirty and my knee hurt a little. I still had a little record to break, I couldn't just turn and run home. So I decided to take a leap of faith and continue to the next lake or fall. The adrenalin pumping through my veins ensured the full capacity of my concentration on that slippery, snowy trail and I didn't fall another time.
Arriving at the second lake, I knew that I only had to run back to get the miles I needed to be a proud, triple-digit barefoot winter runner. There are a couple of stairs between the two lakes, which I had to traverse slowly in walking speed. My curiosity demanded to have at least a peek at the other trail which was a little more technical, meaning hilly. Not a good thing at all, I thought to myself, but the first part is flat, it is only the way back that would kill me, so I started the second lake. Meanwhile, most likely because of the walking I did on the stairs, my right feet toes started to protest by disconnect from my central nerving system and the snow fall changed from gently to fluffy. Hm, that is not good at all. The trail was less icy and still partly covered by the half melted and frozen snow from last week, it would have been less slippery, but I was also further running away from civilization and the warm home without mobile phone and any pedestrian in sight. I started to panic slightly and took the first turn left that lead me on a path back to the first lake. I was now constantly thinking of how to prevent a catastrophe to my feet. I didn't like the feeling of numbness at all, it scared me. How would I be able to run on that partly gritted pavement without feeling my feet? The snow got thicker and no armies in sight to compress it for me. There, some pedestrians, they noticed I am barefoot. They were shocked, awe-struck, shaking their heads in disbelieve. As a typical man, I couldn't admit defeat yet and passed them with a forced smile.
There was a slight hope, I could elude the stairs by running on the road -- one without much traffic -- back to the first lake. The few cars that must have passed before had already compressed the snow and even left a typical two line track that was almost snow free. After 150 meters I got a call from the main operator of my right food toes, informing me that he planed to reconnect the toes to the central nerving system. Thank you universe. Still on the road there was one of those big Land Rovers coming towards me, the driver saw me running on the middle of the road, I made room for him to pass without hindering him, but the driver wanted me off the road and expressed his feelings by honking and tapping his forehead at me. Thank you for your understanding Sir! Your are welcome as well! Emotions were flowing through my head, do I want to start an argument, I could go back in the lane and stop him, he was only driving in step speed, but then I would risk my toes again. I suck it up and let them pass and gave him an evil sight. Granted, the idea of stopping him came after he passed, so it wasn't a real decision to make.
Back at the first lake on the uncivilized site of the lake, the icy, slippery dirt trail, meant only 4 km to go. The other side which is civilized, meaning it is close to a road and sprinkled with a couple of mansions, sadly is composed of gravel and a no go in the winter for me. Yes, I still had some shoes in my hands, I forgot about them, but I couldn't use them now, if at all, as my feet were greased and dirty and I prefer my shoes clean in the inside and of course I needed another couple of barefoot kilometer to break the triple digits. Shortly after I passed the crash site of my previous fall, I started to get interruptions in the connection to my right foot and my left foot wasn't feeling so well either. And without noticing it earlier, I realized that my sole was kind of dead under both feet for a long time, figuratively speaking. Stubbornly I demanded the side with the most leaves on it or what was visible through the now two inch thick layer of fresh snow. Where did all this snow come from? Whenever I encountered a snow free piece of ground I slowed down to step speed. I felt the warm frozen earth under my feet, at least that is what I tried to manifest in my mind for the sake of positive thinking, as there were no soles I could rely on.
Somehow I managed the trail, without falling again. I had a couple of near falls and my toes got hit a couple of times when I slipped and loosed ground contact. The wind was also noticeable and gusty, but the grease seemed to protect me from the windchill at least a little. Back on the snowed up pavement for the last 1.5 km, the knowledge of a functioning bus line, cars, people, houses -- in short civilization -- kept me safe. The snow wasn't plowed yet, as I had hopped, but at least I couldn't feel the grit beneath the snow anymore. I had numbness in all my toes, but the rest of the feet had still life in it, so I dared to increased the speed and increased it and increased it, I was sprinting home, there was no ice or visible grit anymore that could have hold me back, I gave everything my lung was providing me, just to get in that toasty 10 °C hallway. Home at the frontdoor, on naked, cold bricks I was impatiently searching for my keys which I had put in the shoe of my right hand, but it wasn't there! F***! That can't be! Meanwhile standing just seconds on those damn cold bricks looking through the glass windows of the frontdoor got incredible painfull fast. In hindsight, the pain must have been a good sign, as it meant the operators of my feet hadn't giving up yet, still sending on high priority channels to get the hell out of there or move till death comes. But it didn't come to that, I found the key in the left hand shoe. I must have switched them after the fall and didn't noticed it through the thick gloves.
I am a cold handed barefoot runner with warm feet, who is perfect fluent in a variant of bad English, most ESLer master in no time.
length of run: 9 km
highest temp: -3 °C
lowest temp: -3.5 °C
wind: 15 km/h average with gusts in the 20 km/h
windchill temperature: -8 °C (used a
Canadian calculator)
Damage: 2 hours pain in the sole afterwards