Day 348 - Actual Shoes

After yesterday's dance with the frost devil, I wore normal shoes. If you call these normal.

No, they are not bowling shoes.

These awesome shoes are about as minimal as you can get. Ultra light. Decent ground feel. And the added bonus of letting my toes stay dry and share their heat with each other. Inside those dazzling shoes are a pair of SmartWool running socks, and another pair of socks over those to act as a wind break, since the shoes are built for speed, not for warmth.

Being my first run in anything other than VFFs, and, of course, yesterday's brush with amputation, I decided to stay close to home... just in case.

Good thing, too.

Oh, no... I was fine. It was the dog. She got slush up in her business. No, no... the between-her-paw-pads business. And she did not care for it one bit. So, I took her back in after 1.5 miles.

And I went back out.

That's right... 17F, windy, and slushy, and I went back out. I went back out because my feet felt GREAT!

What a revelation... warm feet! How could I have been so stupid to have been missing this? It was right here, all the time. This must be what the amish kids feel like on Rumspringa, or a defrocked priest, his first night at a singles bar.

My feet were so warm, so far above frozen flesh, that my brain was free to notice other things, like that my fingers were a little cold. Ok, a lot cold. So cold that my left pinky finger was sticking straight out.

Yes, I had gloves on. But the wind was wicked and the sun was setting, so the gloves needed a little help.

Thanks to some old windproof mitten shells, I was back out and feelin' perky.

Another couple of miles, and I decided that discretion would be a good play. Not wanting to tempt fate, after... you know... my toes... freezing... literally.

Reasonably normal shoes, wool running socks, and I was a new man. Ok, gently used man.

I pushed the VFF thing too far. In hindsight, it was stupid. I'm a huge supporter of minimalist running, but not at the cost of body parts... even the small ones.

There's nothing wrong with being a little obsessive-compulsive about some things, as long as it doesn't get in the way of the big things, like walking. Or, for that matter, the slightly more personal but still obsessive-compulsive things, like a running streak.

Keep chasing your goals, but also, keep perspective. And stay warm.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 3.4 miles, and all 10 toes present and accounted for.

Day 347 - Frosty

Remember the lecture I posted a couple days ago about running in the cold in VFFs? Yeah? Well make sure your feet are set, because your about to get whacked in the forehead by the irony bat.

Let me share an interesting bit of physics that occurred to me as I was wrapping up my run, a run that started with me deciding that I'd have a better/safer run on the roads than trudging through virgin snow on the trails.

As I rounded the last corner and finished off the run in the office parking lot, I noticed that my feet were wet. Really wet.

That's not the interesting part.

It was 14F outside. No sun. And the parking lot, as well as many of the roads I had just run on, were wet. There were even puddles.

Water freezes at 32F. That's what we call ice. Yet at 14F, there was still water.

That's the water-phase-changing magic of salt. Salt lowers the freezing point of water. That's why it's spread on roads and parking lots. No ice, no slipping, everyone's safe. Still that the interesting part.

Here's the interesting part. The water in those puddles, and on the road, and in the parking lot, and all over my feet, is also 14F.

My tissues aren't full of salt water, just plain water. The kind of water that freezes at 32F.

We all know what's coming, right?

Yep, I got a touch of frost bite today. After dozens of bitterly cold runs last winter, and several already this winter, runs in which I returned safely with numb but yet unfrozen skin, today I wasn't so lucky.

It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I knew anything was even wrong. Tips of a couple toes stung a bit when I walked around the office. Something was definitely up. And it wasn't a good something.

When I got home, I took my socks off to find the tips of three toes sporting big honkin' blisters. I'd feared they'd be black and half falling off, so blisters were a relief. (I thought about posting a picture, but really, who wants to look at blistery toes? No one.)

The internet, the digital age's free clinic, guided me to this page, which told me to dip my piggies in warm water, and keep them there. It's been a couple hours, and 2 warm-ups, and they feel better already.

I was only out for about 30 minutes. I've been out longer in colder temperatures. But the combination of frigid temps and salted water sucked the heat right out of my toes.

So, it will be conventional shoes for a few days. And socks. Thick socks.

I got lucky. I'd grown complacent and careless. Numb toes were nothing new. But, that numbness can hide more serious problems. Don't ignore numb toes. Or numb anythings, for that matter.

Good running,

Doug

Numbers: 4.0 miles, and, you know, the frostbite.

Day 346 - Thanksmas

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for one simple reason. No pressure.

Christmas, at least in the good ol' US of A, is pressure packed.

Let's compare...

Thanksgiving: The focus of Thanksgiving is thinking nice thoughts about the people and things that are good in your life. And food.
Christmas: The focus on Christmas is presents. I know, it's all about the baby Jesus... Puh-leeze... that's like saying the Super Bowl isn't about the commercials. We all give Christmas, and the Super Bowl, a wink and a nudge, but we know what they're really about.

C: All of those presents, you have to acquire them somehow. You spend money. You face the crowds and the traffic and the possibility of being stabbed if you grab the last Barbie Dream RV. You do your duty as an American consumer, you spend a lot of money.
T:Thanksgiving you bring a covered dish, most likely green bean casserole. Done.

C: Shopping for those gifts for your loved ones, and the obligatory other less-loved ones, is the real stress slap. What do they want? What do they need? Will they like it? What if they didn't buy anything for me? What if they spent more on me than I did on them? Do I buy her a Large or a Medium? (Too small, she thinks she's fat. Too big, she thinks you think she's fat. It's a mine field.)
T: Everyone likes green bean casserole. And even if they don't, they won't go hungry. Just means more for you.

C: Presents, because they're wrapped, create expectations. If someone just handed you a pair of earmuffs, you'd probably think "Oh, cool... earmuffs." But put those in a box and wrap them up and your mind goes wild. "What could be in there? Maybe a new watch, or a new iPod, or the Hope Diamond." Then you open it, and it's earmuffs.
T: Turkey, potatoes, green bean casserole, family, good conversation, football, nap. Expectations met.

C: All of those expectations lead, inevitably, to disappointment... real or imagined. They didn't like it as much as you thought they would. Their "Thank you" seemed insincere. I should have used the gold wrapping paper. I bought them a damn X and all they got me was a stupid, measly Y. I was really hoping someone was going to get me a Z.
T: All of the food and conversation and football inevitably lead to a satisfied feeling. Is there anything better than being genuinely satisfied, content, fulfilled, and full?

Here's the trick... all of the pressure associated with Christmas is avoidable. You may be bombarded by advertising, Christmas lists, family gatherings, but they can't make you feel pressured. You apply that pressure on yourself.

Take a Thanksgiving attitude with you over the next week and a half. Replace the pressure of presents with appreciation for the time you will have with people you care about.

If you feel you need want to give a gift, ignore the stressers. Find, or make, something you can easily afford. Give it gladly, with no expectations. None. No expectation of a gift in return, or of any specific reaction. A present is a gift, not a contract.

If a Thanksgiving guest brings green bean casserole to your house, you thank them even if you don't care for green bean casserole, right? You don't judge them, or your relationship with them, or whether your mashed potatoes will live up to their casserole. You accept it, peel off the foil, and serve it happily to your guests.

If you receive a Christmas gift, accept it gladly. And no matter what it is, thank the giver for thinking of you, not for what's in the box.

Don't mindlessly consume. Don't buy people crap. Think of each gift you give, and each that you receive, not as an exchange of goods or a checkmark on a list, but as a token of love, or at least appreciation.

If you do feel the Christmas stress building up inside you, put the credit card down, lace up your shoes, and hit the road After the run has helped you shed that layer of holiday hype, remember that Christmas could be as easy and carefree as Thanksgiving, if you let it.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 3.0 miles on/in snow.

Day 345 - Happiest dog in the world

Sure it was cold. Sure it was raining. Did Mandee care?

I don't think so.

She also heartily disagrees with my assertion (Day 344 and Day 13) that water on ice is a bad thing.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 3.5 miles on streets and sidewalks.

Day 344 - Five Fingers and Snow

I mentioned a while ago that I run in Vibram Five Fingers (VFFs), those funny looking shoes with toes. I made the change, cold turkey, about 15 months ago after running out of ideas on how to keep my body running. They work really well for me. Except in the winter.


The problem is that the shoes are called "minimalist" for a reason. There's almost nothing to them. That means that there isn't much between my little piggies and the freeziness that's all over the ground.

I'm not gonna sugar coat it. My toes get cold. They don't get dangerously cold, at least they haven't yet. Still, too often, when I get home, my toes will sting for a bit. Sometimes they're just plain numb.

Typical DR365 Reader: So why the hell don't you put on some normal damn shoes, freak?

Me: Excellent question. You're not only above average looking, but also insightful.

Typical DR365 Reader: Thanks, I think.

Running in minimalist shoes has changed my gait and my foot strike to the point that running in conventional shoes just doesn't work. In less than a mile, everything's wrong, everything hurts. If I were to try regular running shoes, it would be like someone who's used to running in running shoes trying to run in high-heels. I can't even walk in running shoes anymore.

All of these runs, in all kinds of conditions, and the shoes have performed really well. And, I've learned a lot about running in VFFs when it's cold out. Don't believe me? Here, I'll show you...

1. Since one generally doesn't wear socks with VFFs, it's a really, really good idea to keep your feet dry when it's cold out. Avoid puddles, wet grass, falling through ice.
2. It's also a good idea to avoid snow because snow will suck the heat out of your feet. Stay on pavement, or sidewalk, or leaves, when you can.
3. Rule #1 trumps rule #2. Given a choice, snow is better than a wet street. The colder it is, the truer this gets.
4. Most of the people who act like they're interested in your shoes, aren't. They just want to find out want kind of nut job would wear something so ridiculous out in public. It's the same reason we look in to see what kind of idiot could drive so slow when we pass them.
5. The wrap-your-feet-in-neoprene Flow model of VFFs is touted as being good for cold weather running on the Vibram website. They aren't. I have a pair, and I see no difference, except that they are hard as hell to get on.
6. VFFs are mostly flat bottomed. That means zippo traction on slippery surfaces. Ice is dangerous. Wet ice is the worst. Even mud is bad. Especially when you happen to trod upon a layer of mud that has been warmed by the sun and is sitting on top of a still frozen layer. That's what we call "fall bait".

See that slide mark there?

That's where I relearned rule #6.

Stupid mud. 

See, that's 6 things, right off the top of my head.

I'll admit, there are days when a I could really use the protection of a pair of socks. I even have a pair of less-unusual shoes to try once the streak is over, ones that will keep my toes warm, or at least warmer. I'm not generally superstitious, but still... I don't want to change anything, perhaps not even my underwear, until I hit 365. So those will stay in the box a few more weeks.

Fear of change and the benefits of running in minimal shoes are enough to keep me running in VFFs, despite the cold toes. And as a bonus, VFFs leave pretty cool foot prints.

Good running,

Doug

Numbers: 3.4 miles on snowy trails, and only one minor fall.

Day 343 - Left Behind

I love group runs. We've talked about this. The camaraderie, conversation, foul humor... what's not to like.

But there are days when your body tells you it needs to break away from the group.

The dynamics of the group change over time. And they change depending on who's running. If there's a newcomer, then the group let's them dictate the pace, unless they are faster than the group, in which case it's really up to the new guy to slow it down.

But when it's the usual suspects, there's a default pace that just, happens. No one sets the pace. There's no plan. The group starts and they start at more or less the same speed.

Here's the problem... I'm the only member of this particular group stupid enough to try to run every day for a year. These guys employ actual rest days. As for me, I've got 342 days worth of wear and tear piling up.

For most of the year, I could hang with these guys. Something about the cold, and the fear of blowing out an achilles or two, has slowed me down.

So today, after about half a mile, I told 'em "Guys, I'm dropping off. You guys go ahead. See you at the end."

That's running buddy talk for "I'm going to go slower and shorter than you. I've acknowledged it, now please, let's not speak of this again."

It was the smart thing to do. I only cut about 0.6 miles off of what they did, but the pace they started with was too fast. My creaky parts didn't have time to warm up. If I'd stayed with them, I'd have been in a world of hurt.

I was still happy with my run. Once I slowed up, I was able to warm up, and my pace picked up. By the end, I was clipping along just fine.

What I missed was the stories, and the laughs, and likely a couple good-natured insults. But sometimes we need to do the smart thing, not the fun thing, so that we can do more of the fun thing, later.

It's a tricky balancing game. A group can pull you to levels of performance that you never knew possible. But if you aren't careful, trying to hang when you shouldn't can put you on the sidelines.

I'm confident that next month, after a some rest and recuperation, I'll be right on their collective shoulders, in easy earshot of things I'll wish I'd never heard.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 3.4 miles on asphalt.

Day 342 - Imagine

30 years ago (tomorrow) I was standing in my parent's kitchen, having just come down from getting dressed for school. The Today Show was on, and they were talking non-stop about how John Lennon had been shot and killed the previous evening. I was stunned. I stood, motionless, mouth agape, trying to understand how this could possibly be true. I didn’t understand how my parents could wash dishes and drink coffee and not be staring at the screen. I was numb. I was 15. It was my first assassination.

I had just started listening to The Beatles. I wore out Sgt. Pepper. I found Robber Soul buried in my mom’s albums and adopted it. And, to be honest, and more than a little embarrassed, as I stood in shock in the kitchen that morning, I was also trying to remember which Beatle was John. It seems ridiculous now, but I was just learning. I was a n00b.

Over time, years, I grew to understand just how big of a loss this was. As I listened to his music more, I grew to admire, and relate to, John’s almost painful yearning for peace and his unwavering belief in the power of truth and love. As I read more and watched more and listened even more, I appreciated his quick and sharp wit. He could make his point, spot on, and usually as a joke to ease the tension. As I learned more, I longed for more. I longed for more of John Lennon.

While in NYC 5 years ago for the marathon, one of the things I insisted on seeing was the memorial for John Lennon in Central Park. I also wanted to see the Dakota, the building where he and Yoko lived. A sort of pilgrimage I guess, the best I could manage short of a trip to Liverpool. 

The Dakota was different than I had expected. I pictured a door that opened directly on to the street. I always thought he was shot while answering a knock at that door.


As I looked at the building, then my map, then the street signs and then the building again I realized I was at the right place, but I wanted to be sure. I walked to the guard house, which I would assume wasn’t there 25 years before, and asked the guard “Is this the Dakota?” He nodded. He must get that all the time. What must it be like living or working in a building known for something so terrible. I suppose people are working today in the Texas Schoolbook Depository. Life really does go on, doesn't it.

It is a magnificent building. I was most impressed by the cast iron faces on the railing along the sidewalk, and the enormous gaslights above the entrance.

A short walk to Strawberry Fields in Central Park, and there was the memorial. It was quiet. That is until we were surrounded by what was easily a hundred teenage girls, and it was pretty  obvious they were on a tour, direct from Japan. In a matter of seconds, they were everywhere. They all wore the same school uniform, but with different, tiny backpacks and purses. It was as close as I've ever come to a flash mob.

The Japanese girls, and there were more arriving by the minute, and the girl I was with, and I stood and looked at the mosaic and snapped pictures. I had always imagined it as colorful, but it’s pretty much light gray and dark gray. Still, it’s simplicity of message and place warmed by heart. It also made me sad.

The girl and I discussed what the world had missed in 25 years without John Lennon. She thought that perhaps his popularity and message would have faded. That he was a man of his time. She was a Republican.


I thought that the Double Vision album was an re-awakening for him, that he would have continued on with more music from his heart, with a message of love and peace and acceptance. Sure, he might have pissed some people off, but he would have no regrets. And he would have made things right with Julian, his oldest son.

He would play solo concerts with piano and guitar for charities. He'd keep working on his art and dabble with photography. He would stand by his wife. He would produce his sons’s music. I'm pretty sure he would have appeared on Letterman many times.

The world would have looked to him for meaning and hope when his adopted city was attacked on September 11, 2001. He would have spoken out against the war in Iraq.


He would be an ambassador to the world from his imagined future, a future of peace and love and understanding.

John Lennon has fulfilled that last role, even in death. But I still miss him.

Good running,
Doug


Numbers: 5.1 miles on trails.