Last night, I went for a wonderful, albeit overly long walk. It was a test for my feet, to see if the blistery bits had healed. Turns out, yes. Yes they had. I wound up walking about 5.5 miles in my xeros. The only bad part was that my phone died mid-walk, so my backup plan was kaput until I got home.
While my feet were tired, the skin wasn't damaged. I gave them a little cold soak and all was good. I was afraid that I had overdone it, so I waited until this morning to decide whether or not I would run today. I was good to go this morning!
4:45 I woke up. My alarm was set for 5. I took it as a sign and groggily tried pulling my shorts on backwards. Got that situation rectified, zipped on my pebble strap (caan't be a boulder holder!), said to hell with the shirt, and grabbed my sandals and off I went. It was a very freeing feeling, though I felt a bit vulnerable. Granted, I feel vulnerable when I'm barefoot, but I felt even more so without a piece of fabric. How silly we humans are with our social conventions.
I padded off in the deep darkness of predawn. As I neared the church-turned-work-center, I got the jump scare of the century. Suddenly, there was a quick pattering of paws, clacking of small claws, and a rumbling PRRT behind my heels. I nearly mule kicked Frosty Jack, the friendly neighborhood tuxedo cat.
He followed me to the track, another half mile or so. I was starting to worry that he was going to join me on the track too, which would put him in coyote territory. Fortunately, he finally stopped following me, and I began my 8 minute intervals.
I decided to mess around with listening to a metronome track for both my sake and as a sort of "hey, I'm here" to all the critters around me. After all, I have seen wild pigs, skunks, snakes, foxes, and coyotes out there. Turns out, even with my clacking metronome, I didn't spook everything away.
On lap 2, I encountered a juvenile coyote with what looked like a bird or small rabbit that it had just caught. Scared the crap out of me, and I could tell that it was confused. Humans don't usually sound like me, with my padding feet and clickklackklackklack. So I leapt in the air, made a sort of "HEYYYAAAA" sound, and charged its way. Poor little thing turned tail. It didn't help my nerves, though, and I may may have sprinted in full flight mode when I heard rustling of leaves behind me.
So, over my 3 reps of 8 minute running in near complete darkness, I managed not to trip, stumble, step wrong, or fall. My feet are beginning to intuit more and more, and this morning was proof of that. On my metronome app, I discovered that 180 felt far too slow for me and preceded to up the tempo to about 192, which felt easily sustainable and almost gentle.
I finally put my sandals back on when I was done running. I wanted to hustle home, shower, get dressed, and get ready to go fishing to be out the door by 7. I successfully made it home in my allotted time, then caught a bass.
'Twas a successful, fun morning.
While my feet were tired, the skin wasn't damaged. I gave them a little cold soak and all was good. I was afraid that I had overdone it, so I waited until this morning to decide whether or not I would run today. I was good to go this morning!
4:45 I woke up. My alarm was set for 5. I took it as a sign and groggily tried pulling my shorts on backwards. Got that situation rectified, zipped on my pebble strap (caan't be a boulder holder!), said to hell with the shirt, and grabbed my sandals and off I went. It was a very freeing feeling, though I felt a bit vulnerable. Granted, I feel vulnerable when I'm barefoot, but I felt even more so without a piece of fabric. How silly we humans are with our social conventions.
I padded off in the deep darkness of predawn. As I neared the church-turned-work-center, I got the jump scare of the century. Suddenly, there was a quick pattering of paws, clacking of small claws, and a rumbling PRRT behind my heels. I nearly mule kicked Frosty Jack, the friendly neighborhood tuxedo cat.
He followed me to the track, another half mile or so. I was starting to worry that he was going to join me on the track too, which would put him in coyote territory. Fortunately, he finally stopped following me, and I began my 8 minute intervals.
I decided to mess around with listening to a metronome track for both my sake and as a sort of "hey, I'm here" to all the critters around me. After all, I have seen wild pigs, skunks, snakes, foxes, and coyotes out there. Turns out, even with my clacking metronome, I didn't spook everything away.
On lap 2, I encountered a juvenile coyote with what looked like a bird or small rabbit that it had just caught. Scared the crap out of me, and I could tell that it was confused. Humans don't usually sound like me, with my padding feet and clickklackklackklack. So I leapt in the air, made a sort of "HEYYYAAAA" sound, and charged its way. Poor little thing turned tail. It didn't help my nerves, though, and I may may have sprinted in full flight mode when I heard rustling of leaves behind me.
So, over my 3 reps of 8 minute running in near complete darkness, I managed not to trip, stumble, step wrong, or fall. My feet are beginning to intuit more and more, and this morning was proof of that. On my metronome app, I discovered that 180 felt far too slow for me and preceded to up the tempo to about 192, which felt easily sustainable and almost gentle.
I finally put my sandals back on when I was done running. I wanted to hustle home, shower, get dressed, and get ready to go fishing to be out the door by 7. I successfully made it home in my allotted time, then caught a bass.
'Twas a successful, fun morning.
