I wanted to laugh.  I wanted to throw my head back, shaking rain droplets, and bellow my pleasure to the sky, arms spread wide and joyful.  I wanted to howl out to the world, I’ve figured it out, I’ve found the path I’ve been seeking!  Buuuut, I held back.

For the last few months, every long run I’ve done has been on the trails, “barefoot,” in my Vibram FiveFingers KSOs.  The difference between how I feel after a barefoot run versus a shoe run is an ever-widening gap.  Shoes: sore, tight, stiff the next day.  KSOs: some muscle fatigue, but no pain, and a desire to go do it all over again.

I ran last fall in the KSOs on pavement, only two miles.  I forced my body to run like I was in shoes, jamming my heels into the sidewalks.  Big surprise, I hurt.  Once I was on the trails, I let loose a little bit and let my natural body mechanics take over.  Instant difference.

Tonight was an experiment.   After running about 80 miles on dirt, I was ready to try on pavement again.  I set out to do four - and ended up doing five.  I let my feet land the way they wanted to - mid-foot, rolling along the outside, absorbing the shock.  I pushed off from my toes instead of rolling off the ball of my foot.  It took about a half mile to get into the rhythm, but once I found my groove, it was AMAZING.

My back straightened.
My shoulders were loose.
My feet zipped along at 91 strides per minute - the “magic number” of elite runners.  Never before have I been able to keep it higher than 80.  I counted probably 8-10 times, and every minute, exactly 91.
My miles were a consistent 8:10, and I cruised at a perceived difficulty of maybe 4/10.  Maybe that high - maybe.
My breathing was light and even.  I’m sure that if I had stopped, at any point during the run, my breathing would have been barely more than it is at rest.

Can I really credit the Vibrams for this?  Yes, I think I can.  In 1500+ miles in shoes over the last few years, I have never had a run as *perfect* as this one.  I have never experienced the sheer ecstatic happiness that I felt on this run.  I had my epiphany tonight.

This run was glorious.  It was awesome.  It was fun and amazing and full of love of running.  I was a crazy, half naked man running down 80th Avenue, grinning wide and open-mouthed at confused people in their cars.  I passed Mr. Moehrke in his wheelchair on 75th - I said, good evening, and he said, “Hi, how are you?” and I yelled “FANTASTIC!” as I ran past.   “Beautiful!” came the reply from behind me.  This run was glorious.

I might never buy another pair of running shoes again.

NOW PLEASE NOTE
If you have the pressing urge to tell me my feet are going to fall off, that my tendons are going to explode, or whatever horrific injury I am bound to experience unless I wear shoes, please save it.  Seriously.  Running shoes have only been around for about 40 years, and since they were introduced, running-“related” injuries have increased exponentially.

You’d think that after all this time and advanced research, Nike might find a way to reduce shinsplints or ITBS or plantar fasciitis.  But that’s not the case.  I’ll try to reign in the preaching, but I will happily talk my fool head off with anyone who wants to know more.  A great place to start is the book Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall, which I recommend to any runner, even if you’re not interested in barefooting.

Humans ran barefoot for over two hundred thousand years.  Good thing no one was around to tell them they were doing it wrong, or we’d never be able to argue about it on the internets.

From behind me, a woman’s voice: “Hey, Kenosha.”

“Hey, Sparta,” I responded, without turning.  I dumped some more M&Ms into my mouth from the paper cup.  “Been waiting for ya.”

I knew her name.  It was in big letters on her bib.  Julianne.  She knew my name, too.  But that’s not how we were introduced to each other, so that’s not how we addressed each other.  We were at mile 25 of the Deadwood-Mickleson Trail Marathon, on the outskirts of Deadwood, South Dakota.

“See, I knew you’d beat me,” I told her as she walked next to me.

“I don’t know about that; I’m nursing a stress fracture.”

I started to run again shortly thereafter.  As I entered Deadwood, I passed a speed limit sign for snowmobiles - 5mph.  I laughed.  I was on a sub-10 minute pace for this mile, which meant that technically, I was speeding.  Just another few minutes, and I was done.  Marathon number 6, in the bag.

Sparta finished about 15 seconds behind me.  We gave mutual congrats, and went on our separate ways.  I had to find a shower, and our hotel didn’t give us a late checkout.

Several hours earlier

I didn’t know if this race was going to happen.  Or, even if *it* did, was it going to involve me?  The forecast was for low 40s, with possible thunderstorms.  Not exactly what you want when running a remote race over a small mountain.  The start line was at 5358ft of elevation and we climbed to 6225ft at the midpoint.  Altitude and elevation gain, cold and wet; the combination  was worrisome.

I dressed anyway.  Joy was supportive, reminding me to eat my Clif Bar, reminding me that she would be at mile 10 if things got too bad, reminding me that I’d run in worse.  Looking out the window of our room, I saw other runners heading to the shuttle bus pick-up across the street.

Okay, I decided.  Let’s do this.

The shuttle bus took me (and the other runners) to the tiny hamlet of Rochford, SD.  Joy couldn’t join me as the town is too small for spectators to park in.  Seriously.  Just before 7, we were deposited on an open lot next to the church.  Nearly 400 of us huddled against the church, behind trees, or in line for the porta-potties.  There was no shelter, and of course, many of us were in shorts and short sleeves.  I managed to score a spot along the front of the church, out of the wind.  Someone came along handing out garbage bags, and I put one over my head, poncho-style.  Someone joked that we looked like a hobo camp.  I said, “Yeah, hobos with expensive shoes.”

Two questions were asked of and by everyone around me.  Where are you from, and how many have you run?  The “from” question became not only an interesting study in geography, but that’s how you got your name.  By some unspoken rule, you were named for your state, unless there was already someone in the group with that name - then you got your town.  I was talking with South Carolina, Florida, Pensacola, New York, and Spearfish (a local, doing the relay).  I was Wisconsin, so when two others came by, we met Sparta and Burlington.

I also learned that I was truly the noob of the group I was with.  One woman had run 66, another 23, a man had over 150… I was going to be running number 6.  I got to met Roger from England who was running his 500th marathon.  He was kind of a mild celebrity, as everyone wanted to meet him.

After about an hour, we lined up and the marathon was on.  The first half was a good haul up, and the second half was a brutal, mostly downhill wobble.  The weather mostly cooperated, but the mist and fog made for soggy runners.  The scenery was pretty spectacular.

Once it was all over, we were well beyond our checkout time.  On top of that, the YMCA was closed.  Joy is a trooper, though.  She drove the five hours to our hotel in Thermopolis, Wyoming, with my stinky self in the front seat with hardly a complaint.

I limped painfully into the hotel to check in, and the guy at the desk looked at me worriedly.  “Man, you look like you just…”

“Ran a marathon?”

“Yeah, I guess!” he said.

I shrugged.  “I did.  In South Dakota.”

“Really?  Wow!”  We chatted some more as he got us checked in, and then - finally - I was able to take a shower.

Oh boy!

My training runs are effectively over.  There is nothing more to do but get plenty of sleep, eat a ton of pasta, and hope the weather doesn’t change.

Saturday morning, at about 6am, Joy (sleepy and sluggish) and I (anxious and giddy) will ride our bikes over to the harbor park area.  By 6:45, I’ll be in the starting corrals, nervously fidgeting and checking to make sure I haven’t forgotten something critical like my shorts.  And then at 7, the gun will go off.  Over the next thirty seconds, all anxiety will wash away, and the marathon will be ON.

For those dear, dear friends that would like to come out and cheer me on, thank you!  I can’t tell you how great it is to hear a familiar voice call my name.  I’ve put together a rough timeline so you can try and match up where you’ll be and where I’ll be.  The course map is available at http://www.wisconsinmarathon.com/CourseInfo.html.

7:00 Start by the museums
8:00 Carthage turnaround/mile 7ish
8:20 50th St bridge
8:30 Eichleman Park
8:45 Southport Park
9:20 116th St and 1st Ave
9:45 116th St and 1st Ave
10:30 Southport Park
10:40 Eichleman Park
10:45 FINISH (I hope) by the museums

Of course, I have to admit, that the further I get from 7:00/the start line, the less accurate this chart may be.  If you are trying to spot me, I’ll be in a white/grey/black shirt, black shorts, and my “signature” red bandanna.  You can also call one of our phones (if you’re cool enough to have the number) and get a location update from Joy, as she’ll be chasing me on her bike.  If you do call her, and she doesn’t answer, don’t leave a message.  Remember, she’s riding around, navigating through traffic, spectators, and racers.  Just try again in a little bit.  And make sure you tell her who you are!

So.  Less than 35 hours til the gun.

Spring has finally hit southeast Wisconsin in the nice, sunny, warm way, not just the cold and rainy way.  Though, that rain has been sorely needed, as you’ll see later.

After my 20-miler on the 11th, I’m winding down the mileage to give my body time to repair all the microtears and whatnot that have surely been accumulating.  I skipped both of my week runs last week; I don’t have any real good excuse, I just didn’t feel like running.  This season in particular, I’ve been skipping one or both of my Monday/Wednesday runs, but it doesn’t seem to have affected my performance too much.  Sure, I probably would be a little stronger, but I’m happy with my progress so far.  Instead of worrying about speed, I’ve been focusing more on endurance and strength (especially hills).  Hopefully it’ll pay off!

Last Saturday, the 18th, I headed out to Parkside for a 12-miler.  A nice “middle” distance.  I can’t consider anything under 14 miles “long” any more.  Sorry.  My plan was to run the 10k course twice.  For fun, I decided to eschew shoes completely, and do the whole thing in my KSO’s.

Clear skies and bright sunshine led to a near-70 degree late morning when I stepped onto the Killing Field, clad only in shorts, a bandanna, and my lizard feet.  With a beep of my stopwatch, I was off.  As I crested The Hill, I was met with an familiar sight: thick, white/yellow smoke coming over the trees.  At the top of The Hill is, simply, The Top.  A wide, open field of tall grasses with various course trails cutting through.  At the edge of The Top is Green Bay Road, and there was a grass fire.  I wondered if it was a controlled burn, but controlled burns usually require someone to, you know, control them.  Other than a County Sheriff’s car on the side of the road, no one was out there.

Since the trail I was taking ran through the burning part, I stopped at the squad car first.  “You mind if I run through there?” I asked.

“Knock yourself out, just don’t get burned,” came the mustachioed reply.

“That wasn’t intentional, was it?”

He shook his head.  “Nope, fire department’s on its way.”

I thanked him and headed down the path.  The ditch and telephone pole to my left burned, and the grass to my right was being rapidly consumed.  The trail itself was short, green grass, and didn’t burn - just the tall dead stuff from last year.  The wind was really whipping from the east, though, and pushing the fire along.  The burning/burned area was maybe 100 feet long and 20 feet to either side.  I left it behind and ran on, doing a little loop in a stand of trees.  Maybe three minutes later, I came back out, and the fire had easily quadrupled in size.  Another little loop through some trees, and I passed the field again, and by now there were firefighters knocking down some of the smaller independent fires.

My route took me away, through the Pines, across the Meadow, down the long Straightaway, and around the Two-Mile Loop (named for the 5k/8k marker, not it’s actual length).  Then it was up the White Lady (cuz she’s a bitch of a hill), across the 8k/10k Cut, down the Hill of False Hope and the Exit Ramp.  This took me into the Chutes and back out onto the Killing Field.  I was then on part two of the figure-eight-shaped course, running back up The Hill.

Once at The Top, the fire department was still at work.  The fire was quite a ways away from where I was going to run, but a brush truck was parked on the trail.  I slowed to a walk and sought out the Chief.  I’ve known him since I was kid, but he wouldn’t recognize me now.

“Hey Krause, am I ok to run through?” I yelled over the rumbling equipment.

He looked at me, a little surprised.  “Nah,” he called back.  “Go around!”

I waved and smiled, “Just checkin’, thanks!” and headed away to rerun the first half of the figure eight again.  I come from a firefighting family.  I’m not going to bother them if they don’t want me going through there, even if *I* think I’ll be fine.  Now my only problem was that I had no idea what my distance for “Lap One” would be.  Oh well, I’d figure it out later (6.4 miles instead of 6.2, not bad).  At the end, I gagged down some Gu and water and set off for Lap Two.  By this time, the fire department was gone, so I was able to run unhindered.  At The Top again, I could see that the fire had burned about two acres or so.

For Lap Two, part two, I ran through The Top and into the Highlands and down the Back Stretch.  This went along the road past the Killing Field and up the Exit Ramp, up the Hill of False Hope, cross the Cut, and over and down the White Lady.  I veered right instead of hitting the Two-Mile Loop, and took the Creek Line out to the Chutes and to the finish.

So, run 2 in the KSO’s.  While last week I started with blisters and ran in comfort with my lizard feet, this week I had some issues.  I don’t know if I situated myself in them funny, or tightened them wrong or what, but I developed some small blisters on my right arch and my left arch somehow got a nice gouge in it.  I’ll have to play with them more and see if I can’t solve the problem.  Might have to do some creative taping or moleskin or something.

I’ve mentioned it before, so I probably sound like a broken record to some degree.  But I am, again and again, amazed by my improvement, even from one week to the next.  Two weeks ago, I wrote about Matt and I running the XC trails at Parkside.  Our first three 5 milers were pretty consistent, within just a few minutes of each other.  After Matt left, however, the sudden company vacuum seemed to drain me of energy.  I did a lot of walking that last five miles.

Last weekend, I went back to the trails again. The schedule called for 16 miles, so I planned to run the 10k course (6.2 miles) and two 8k’s (5 miles each).  I’ve only run the 10k a few times and never really enjoyed it.  This day, however, it seemed a lot more fun.  In addition, the trail was flooded from the last snow and a couple days of rain.  There was mud, standing water, flowing creeks, and one small pond, about twenty feet long and several inches deep.  I gingerly picked my way through the first round, but got soaked and muddy anyway.

After finishing the first 10k, I decided to run it twice more.  You know, get a few extra miles out of it.  Round 2, as I approached the pond, two older guys were walking up the trail.  One called out to me, “the best way is just to run straight through the middle!”  I replied back, “I know, this is my second time through!”  Then I surprised both of them by barreling right down the middle, water filling my shoes and splashing up to my thighs.  I could hear their laughter as I went on.

The final 10k was a grinder.  My muscles were exhausted and my hips were starting to disagree with my plans.  Most of the uphills were walked.  Eventually, I finished.  The mud and water that inundated my shoes had created hotspots - pre-blister areas - on my right big toe and right inner arch.  They were tender, but didn’t actually blister.  But there it was.  18.6 more miles into the record.

Now, my first marathon is a road race, so some might question why I choose to do my long runs on trails.  The XC course provides hills, so I’m not always running easy flats, and it’s free of stop lights, curbs, and traffic.  And, perhaps, most importantly, there is the “feel” of the course.  It’s a place meant for running. Simply stepping onto the Killing Field is like some chemical change.  My brain is switched to running mode in a way that streets and sidewalks can never do.

Today was my last “long” run, another 20.  “Long” these days really only applies to 14-milers and up.  Sick, I know.   I decided that instead of just running a quartet of 8k’s, I would first wipe myself out on 10 miles of hill repeats.  The first half mile of the course is split into what I affectionately call the Killing Field and The Hill.  The Hill rises about 80 feet in steep jumps over the second quarter mile.  For the repeats, I would run to the top of The Hill, turn around, and run back to the start line.  That’s one mile.  Repeat for a total of ten.

After six, it was getting clear that my week-old hotspot hadn’t gone away.  My cherished Asics 2130 Trails had well over 300 miles on them and were no longer the snug clean fit they once were.  Throw in a bad pair of socks and a bunch of grit, and there you go.  Blister time.

My original plan was to do 10 repeats, run an 8k in my shoes, and another 8k in my Vibram fivefinger KSO’s.  After the repeats, though, I knew I couldn’t stay in my shoes.  I switched to the KSO’s, noting the nice blister on my arch and another on the side of my big toe.  Faaantastic.  I slipped my bare feet into the KSO’s and hit the start line.  I’d only ever run 2 miles in them before, and it was on pavement, so my results weren’t the greatest.

Within a handful of meters, I was giggling in my head.  The grass and soft earth were cool on my feet.  Hard, dry ground was a little more jarring, but I was amazed at just how GREAT I felt.  Sure, I was tired, but it felt like a completely separate run.  Even the gravel sections weren’t that bad. And in the mud, I laughed, wondering what a walker would think seeing what looked like bare foot prints.

And you know what?  Not another twinge from the blisters.

On Wednesday I ran an eight-mile speed workout.  I alternated between slow and fast miles, and surprised the heck out of myself by hitting an amazing 6:46 on the eighth mile.  I think that brings me up to about 5 sub-7-minute miles since I left high school.

Speaking of high school, I ran with an old cross-country/track teammate this morning.  He was always significantly better than me, and still is, but he was itching to get out and do some distance.  I had a 20-miler on the schedule, so I told him if he’d meet me out at the Parkside course, I’d run with him.

The weather forecast was a little scary, with just-above freezing temps, wind, and an incoming blizzard expected.  Thinking to myself, “Do I really want to spend 3 hours running around in nasty cold weather?” I could only come back with a solid NO.  I mean, that’s just not good for certain parts, you know?  But Matt had put the offer out there, and I figured I could always call it early if the weather got to be too much.  Even five miles would have been better than zero.

I met Matt out there at 9, and the sun was kinda shining.  We decided to do 8k loops (5 miles each) until we got cold, tired, or hit 20 miles.  The trails were really muddy, and with the water, grit and dirt that worked into my shoes, I’ve got some nice tender spots.  But the run was good.  Matt and I chatted, catching up on old times, our younger siblings (since we’d all been friends as well as teammates), and all that fun stuff.  The first three laps cruised by.

Matt had to leave after 15, so I was left to grind out the last 5 on my own.  I think it was a good thing Matt left, as I was so beat down, I was barely faster than a walk for a good chunk, and actually did walk at several of the uphills.  I did it, though.  I ran my first 20 of the year.  It feels great to have that “epic” milestone under my belt.

After all, I have to do it again in two weeks!

I’m a terrible host - at least, online.  You really should come to more parties.

Okay, so rundown for 2008: I ran three marathons, three half marathons, and the running leg of a triathlon relay (TEAM MAN, whooo!).  Pictures for most, and eventually all, are located at the fabulous new gallery I’ve got set up at mathein.net.  Check it out, there are more pictures there than anyone could possibly ever want.  Even one of me in my underwear.

This year, I’ve registered for three marathons - again, and one half marathon, so far.  And that’s just the spring/summer schedule.  We’ll see how things go as far as fall races.  I’ve decided not to announce which races I’m running in advance this year, because I realized it’s kind of dumb to tell the internets when you’re going to be out of town when your address is easy to find.

That said, I will be running the inaugural Wisconsin Marathon here in Kenosha on May 2.  It’s a nice flat course along the lake, and I’ve run portions of it dozens of times.  If training goes well, maybe I’ll break my 3:57 PR, thanks to the lack of hills!

Switching gears: one of my races this summer is out West, and after, Joy and I are going to spend some time camping and hiking around Wyoming.  Check out these awesome trails we’re thinking about:
http://www.free-press.biz/Jackson-Hole-WY/Goodwin-Lake-Trail.html
http://www.trails.com/tcatalog_trail.aspx?trailid=HGR082-018
http://www.jacksonholenet.com/blogs/blog_detail.php?n=101037
http://www.landscapeimagery.com/mapwy.html (the cluster in the central west and southeast)

If anyone else is interested, contact me for dates and details.