Red Rocks Blue Sky

RAIN = PAIN

When I first started running barefoot I learned quickly that wet feet and pavement did not always work. One day I was running a fairly rough dirt trail barefoot. It was tender but manageable. I soon saw a stretch of grass. Yes I knew it was going to feel good — I quickly steered my way on to the grass and felt the cool relief of soft moist grass on my feet. After this stretch of grass was a short section of pebble strewn dirt and then asphalt road. “YEE-OUCH!!!” It was like I was instantly hobbled. It took another mile of running on concrete before I felt relief from this short stretch of dirt and pavement. Moisture from the grass makes your feet tender. I mention this because it was dry for weeks before the Marathon.

About two weeks before the race I mentioned to my wife that my worst nightmare would be for it to rain. “I’m not sure if I could complete the race” I remarked to her. “I will just have to take my huaraches with me just in case.” I was not too worried as I live and train in St. George and it barely rains here.

One week later I was running in the desert and my right huarache had a blow out, the rear strap pulled through the elephant bark sole material. I knew what I needed to do. I was hedging my bets about the rough surface of the St George Marathon thinking that if it got too rough I could put on my sandals and I would be Ok. Ken Saxton wrote that the previous years course was much rougher than his previous runnings of St. George as there was new chip seal. Ken ended up with heat blisters. Ken’s feet are quite experienced at running marathon’s barefoot so I was already a bit on edge to know if I could do what I set out to do. It would still be running barefoot, if I wore huarache sandals, I pondered to myself.
So I ceremoniously buried my huarache sandals right there in the desert. With no backup plan I ran home with a renew sense of confidence that I could, and would finish the race.

When I was dropped off at the shuttle pickup point, conditions seemed to be perfect. I was not sure what to expect, although I had incorporated sections of chip seal into my training runs they were never more than 1000 yards long, I was still trepidatious about the surface of the course. My goal was to focus on being light and elegant with perfect form over this rough stuff. If I could do this I was sure that my training would allow me to finish under 4 hours.

Walking to the bus, with socks on.

On the ride up I sat next to a man from LA who had been running Marathons for 30 years. We had a wonderful conversation about families and running. He told me of some of the best marathons to run. I cannot wait to run a few of them myself. Our conversation died off and with that the drops of rain began to form on the buses front windshield. At first it was just a sprinkling, but then the wipers came on and it was a steady drizzle. Maybe it would just be wet for a few minutes and the storm would be gone, I hoped to myself. This would not be the case.

My worst nightmare was happening. So I dug deep in to the proverbial suitcase of courage and began my affirmations about running light and elegant, and most importantly that the rain coming down would actually be a blessing in allowing me to run over the roughest parts of this Marathon.

I donned the garbage bag that the race organizers had for us at the start of the race. Put a liberal amount of Vaseline on my nipples, and grabbed a cup of hot chocolate. My wife remarked at how many men crossed the finish line with bleeding nipples. There were fire pits set up and being lit, I avoided them as I did not want to breath in the smoke. I was not prepared for cold weather, other than wearing a long sleeve shirt and socks. The wind was blowing quite vigorously and I found shelter in the pinion pines off to the west of the road. I immediately started to massage my muscles and stretch. The cold was already making me quite stiff. I was surprised that there were only a few runners stretching. Most hunkered down next to the wind break of a tree of hugged the periphery of the burning fires.

I was worried that I would have to have a bowel movement on the course and so waited until the last possible moment to join the long lines waiting for the porta-potties. Fortunately my timing was right on, and I made it to one, and exited just in time for the race to start. Whew! I was feeling good. I took off my socks, put them in the clothing bag, and tossed it to a pile of like bags on the side, and I settled in to start the race.

One of my concerns about running a marathon barefoot was getting my feet stepped on at the start up the race when it is the most congested. In fact another runner along the way asked me the same question. I was fine. No one stepped on my feet.

I was jogging in place as the crowds moved forward. It was dark, but the lights at the start illuminated the large group of runners ahead of me in the drizzling rain. It was pretty cool experience to be aligned with so many people out to run a marathon. It was a surreal and neat experience. I was pretty much in the back of the pack. I figure it would be quite motivating to pass a lot of people and to relax and start out even slower than I expected. I met up with a gentleman from Illinois by the name of John, who was on his way to run a marathon in every state of the nation. I believe he said that this was number 27. He said that he had introduced barefoot running into his training to help him improve his running, and It had helped him completely redesign his running and stride and eliminate injuries from his running quest. Cool!

Though the pavement was rough, but I was feeling good as I weaved in and out of runners. I was finding the tire grooves and I was picking up speed. Soon the sun was fully illuminating the morning from behind the clouds. Two miles came up quite fast and with it my first water/aid station experience. Cups are strewn everywhere and volunteers are vigorously putting cups of water, Gatorade, and gel in front of you. Runners are stopping, lines form in front of porta-potties, and it is quite chaotic. Then it ends and it all quiets down.

As I was moving forward picking up speed and confidence, I moved forward weaving through runners and passing them. I kept hearing the following phrase, or phrases like it; “look, he’s not wearing shoes!” The phrase would spur conversation between running buddies along the way. Some asked questions and I was happy to answer. To some guys that were quite obnoxious and were obviously having a good time. I replied that I could not afford shoes. It seemed to get a pretty big laugh from the surrounding runners.

I settled in and continued to focus and weave my way through runners. Mile 6 came up and I was confident that I could keep my increasing pace and finish under 4 hours. It started to rain and blow harder, and I pressed on. I continued to search for the groove lines on the pavement. These groove lines collected water and my feet splashed each time I put my foot down. Most of the time the groove lines were the smoothest asphalt to run on, but sometimes what was below the water was insane. I would then weave out and find another line.

I was surprised at the halfway point to see my time 2:12. I know that it took 10 to 15 minutes for me to cross the start line, so I was pleased. I know that I had slowed down because of the surface, but I was feeling good and hoping for some good pavement ahead. If it would dry out a bit and I could get a good stretch of smooth road, I could do well or so I thought. So I picked it up, and headed towards the upcoming hill. On the hill I was passing all those that passed me on the downhill sections. I settled in, dug up the hill, squeezed a apple cinnamon hammer gel, and still thought that a sub 4 hour run was possible in these conditions.

The next downhill section was murder. Every footstep set my body into a tense reaction to the tenderness of my feet interacting with the chip seal. “Elegant, relax, smooth” I repeated to myself as a deliberate mantra to focus my mind on what I needed to do to survive. My speed dropped dramatically. I was getting passed by everyone, it felt like. I had passed the 4 hour pace guy carrying balloons, now he passed me. I came up upon a big guy about my height who was now walking. I said something to him, and he caught up with me. I figure, that if I talked with someone also struggling, that we could both push forward. The pain to smooth pavement mix was interesting. It would seem that I would alternate from finding smooth pavement to rough, and just the sheer grit of wading through pain.

I slowed to a walkers pace. I saw a few ambulances pulling runners off the course. With the pain raging through my body, I wondered if this would be me. I stopped on a bridge, grabbed the barrier, and stretched my hamstrings and calves. It felt rejuvenating. I turned, and set off with more resolution that this run was possible. I had trained, my body was physically fine, all I had to do was relax and manage the effects of pain. I was off of the bridge and the road turned butter smooth. I was expecting this, but I did not expect the immediate results that it had on my body. It was as if someone had just handed me 2800 mg’s of Motrin. I relaxed, my speed picked up. I was passing runners again, and I pushed forward. I could again see the pace setters balloons. The run then turned and angled downhill. So I was running off camber, fast, and downhill. With the amount of water on the road, the smoothness, and the road oil coming to the surface, I was slipping. If I pushed the pace it felt like I was going to slip and land on my back and on my head. I slowed down, but then I felt like I was betraying my capacity to go fast for I was truly feeling healthy and capable. So I compromised and found a smooth rut next to a gritty lane. I would run fast and focus on balance, then slip to the side and catch the rough pavement and focus on being smooth and managing pain. I alternated running this way for sometime as it seemed to work for me. What I did not know was that the off camber surface and my strategy was focusing all of the stopping energy of running downhill on the inside of my left foot and big toe.

The rough pavement returns and I slow to a grinding pace. I was surprised at how fast the halfway mark had come up. I was now equally surprised at how slow each aid station was coming up. I was not interested in water, or gels, but went straight for the Vaseline booth. My body was soaking wet and I could feel the inside of my thighs rubbing. If I did not slather Vaseline I knew I was going to be hurting. The aid workers were in more shock than my fellow runners about me being barefoot. Many thought I had taken my shoes off because of the rain. I pressed forward. I was now coming into the last stretch. I was at 22 miles and the 4:30 pacer had just passed me. I was suffering. Four miles to go, it was raining, and I was not running on broken, rough, cracked old pavement. The course was now lined with constant crowds.

Three young men were behind me hollering and eating up the energy of the crowd. There were wearing huge smiles and cracking jokes. At first it was a bit annoying, but their energy was infectious. I was in pain and suffering, but now I was smiling. I pressed on. Four miles – this was going to be easy. On all of my practice runs I trained for the push of the last for miles. Just push the pain aside, and go fast. My body had a different thought. I turned onto diagonal and I found the painted lane lines and tried to stay running on them. The pavement at this time was not run-able. Not in my condition. Each foot landing would send pain up my spine to the top of my head. I looked longingly at the smooth concrete sidewalks that were lined with people, and block by barriers. Then we turned off of diagonal the barriers were gone, and I went straight for the sidewalk. I could run again and I was out of the lime light as I was now running behind the crowds. At each cross street, I braced, made my way around the barriers and back onto the sidewalk. “Take a left and your done” yelled a supporter. Off of the side walk I came, swung around the last set up barriers and saw the last ¾ of a mile ahead of me. I was on the home stretch. There was no sidewalks to ease my pain, but a gauntlet of crowds and a meat tenderizing surface.

For the last stretch spectators kept asking; “did you run the whole race barefoot?” “Yes” I would reply smiling. I was crawling at a walkers pace and shod runners were sprinting passed me in droves. A bit de-motivating. The last 1000 yards was lined with National Guard troops from the 222. It motivated me to start singing the Marine Corps hymn. It never fails to pick up my spirits and my pace. I was now running and looking more respectable. I was looking for my wife. I knew she was going to be at the finish line. I could not see her. I wanted to see her. What I could not see was that she was running behind the crowds barefoot alongside of me. She was feeling firsthand the roughness of the course and was a bit shocked that I was still able to run after 26 miles, for her short supporting run was tender.

I crossed the finished line. The clock said 4:43 minutes. I had finished.

Just crossed the finish line

“Micheal!” I heard to my right — It was Michelle beaming brightly. I sprinted to the side and hugged her tightly over the barrier. I had done it. My first marathon, and I did it barefoot in the worst conditions I could imagine. YES!!!!

After the finish line I grabbed an ice cream cone and devoured it, then three pieces of bread. I walked back with Michelle to our car and cheered on all of the racers still on the course. I had a medal around my neck and it felt unbelievable good. YES!!!!!

Walking back to the car.

A few hours later – only two large blood blisters from running off camber downhill.

I did what I feared the most. Run a rough course marathon in the rain. Although I could barely walk the next day — by Wednesday I ran 1.5 miles, and on Friday I ran 5.

Michael Carroll

One of my favorite runs is out my front door and into the Santa Clara River Reserve. I have a 6 to 8 mile loop that puts my Huaraches to test. It is quite rocky and abrasive. I originally was running off-road in Huaraches (Vibram Cherry Soles) using Ted’s double threaded hemp method. I then began to get very tender under my right toe. To the point that it was even effecting my barefoot running. I then had a stroke of fortune – my huaraches disappeared. Which was not cool as I was heading to Bryce Canyon and had no time to order new materials from Ted. I had some elephant bark soling and one extra hemp braided cord. The family was packed and waiting to go — I grabbed the soling material — stood on it in the driveway and traced my feet. I then cut the material our with a pair of strong Fisker fabric scissors in less than two minutes. I have a small Swiss Army pocket knife on my key chain and used the awl tool and knife to punch out three holes and threw them into the side door of the car with the hemp cord.

Arriving in Bryce Canyon I split the hemp cord in to two pieces and threaded my minimal Huarache sandals. I did not have enough cord to tie them like ted does and with the cord crossing over the top of my arch. So I eliminated the cord wrapping around the ankle. It took a few adjustments to get everything worked out as the back kept wanting to fall off of my heal, but then I got it dialed in and have not looked back since.

The first thing that I notice was that the distance between cord breaks was four times what it used to be. This last point was one of the original reasons that I was using the double lacing method – more abrasion resistance. The next thing I notice was something that I just learned to deal with and that was how the wrapping of the cord would tighten up around my ankle when I would go up or down steep inclines. I would have to stop when I got to flat sections and re-adjust. Now this is wrapping is completely gone and my mobility I feel is significantly enhanced on running on any terrain. The last benefit was that I figured out that the big double knot of the double cord method was what was giving me my tender toe. No more tender toe – YES!

So take a look at my strapping method and let me know how it works for you all out there.

PS – Interesting note – I am put on more muscle and lost some fat. Weight is not around 238 and feeling faster and fitter than ever. And by the way the I am que up to run the St. George Marathon again this year, and of course sans shoes.