Run, minimally

Several years ago, a colleague of mine gave a Goddard colloquium talk on Giovanni (an online visualization and analysis system for NASA satellite data). In discussing the system's workflow engine, he said one of the requirements for the engine is that it runs minimally (i.e., does only that which is absolutely necessary). Naturally, I immediately thought of minimalist running, that it's not just about shoes but also (more so?) about running efficiency--doing only that which is absolutely necessary.

But, let’s stay with shoes for now. Here’s Google Trends for 2004-present for the four indicated search terms. Annotations are of events that I knew or googled that plausibly explain some of the trends.

Following are some notes and links corresponding to the above trends and annotations.

[1] McDougall, Christopher, 2009. Born to run: A hidden tribe,superathletes, and the greatest race the world has never seen, featuring Tarahumara runners in sandals. Publication of this book led to a peak interest in barefoot running over the next 2-3 years.

[2] Hoka One One, the beginning of a slow but steadily rising interest in maximalist shoes (backlash to minimalist shoes?).

[3] Minimalist shoes sale boom, with a small lag following the publication of Born to Run (min_1; min_2); these two articles are just to reference the “sales up 303%” in the Google Trends chart above.

 [4] Kipchoge ran his unofficial sub-2 marathon in Vaporfly, as did Brigid Kosgei in breaking Paula Radcliffe’s 16-year-old marathon world record, which, along with many other records and PRs being set left and right, put the spotlight on a shoe that’s been already out there for a couple years.

[5] Vaporfly approval by World Athletics and what led to the review and ruling.

[6] New Vaporfly releases

It’s almost like, at some point between the releases of the Hokas and Vaporflys, someone thought, hmm, that’s a lot of space in those soles just for cushioning … (1, 2). But, even before Vaporfly, the basic idea already existed, e.g., various you-gotta-be-kidding-me spring-loaded shoes.

With the advantage these spring-contraption shoes provides, is there an “asterisk” problem for elite runners? Evidently, yes, for now anyway. For example, last month, Chris Thompson qualified for the marathon event of the upcoming delayed 2020 Summer Olympics, after winning the 2021 British Athletics Marathon--wearing a blacked-out pair of Vaporfly. Why blacked out? Because his shoe sponsor doesn’t make Vaporfly. (He did have his sponsor’s permission to wear the Vaporfly, though—if blacked out.) Then, a couple weeks later, Beth Potter broke the world record for 5K while wearing shoes similar to Vaporfly but made by Asics. (Her WR may not be official, though, because there were no “certified timekeepers or drug testers on site.”) Apparently responding to questions about her shoes, Potter said, “But all athletes now have access to the same level of shoes, so it’s a level playing field.”

But, if everyone has to wear these shoes (blacked-out or not) to be competitive, then it's basically everyone normalizing to a faster base speed. The competition reverts to what it was before these shoes, plus perhaps a small competitive delta based on who can get more or less out of the claimed 4% improvement. What's the point, then? Other than Nike and other companies making lots of money.

And, for the rest of us, there’s a similar asterisk problem. What does “I ran a new 4% PR!” mean, if done with a 4%-improvement Vaporfly? As with age-grading, is there going to be shoe-grading, to account for runners who will be racing with and without these shoes? :)

Regardless of the pros and cons of these various types of shoes (or no shoes), I’m a minimalist runner. I run, minimally. My transition from traditional running shoes to minimalist shoes began some 10 years ago and took more than a year. First was Nike Free, then followed by Merrell’s Trail Glove, Bare Access, and Vapor Glove, Vibram FiveFingers, and occasionally sandals and barefoot. Below left is my first pair of Trail Glove (still the all-time favorite!), and below right is the latest pair of FiveFingers (lightest of them all, except for barefoot; great for traveling!)

Running is more, much more, than speed, PRs, or even WRs. Too much focus on speed and technology misses the meaning of running. It’s certainly not why I run. Now, one might say, well, yes, but competition brings out the best. Exactly. 😊 In the runner, not shoes.

Run free at any speed.

Vibram to Ductbram

Google “running shoes lifespan,” and you’d get a long results list of articles most of which read as if they’re just slight variations of some single original source. Most state without citation that shoes need to be replaced after about 300-500 miles. These articles then drone on about “blah, blah, blah, …, cushioning, …, blah, blah, blah, …, upper support, …,” as if somehow Nature didn’t do its job and messed up. You’d have to scroll down the results page a ways to get to the first article that doesn’t mostly follow the script and that notes there are not much data to support the claims of these other articles.

Hmm, let’s see, who might be the beneficiaries of these articles?

The latest of these droning articles is from the New York Times, “You probably need new running shoes. Here’s how to upgrade.” Scrolling, scrolling, …, and there it is (!): “Shoes should be replaced, on average, after every 350 miles run, running experts say.” Who are these “experts"? It also helpfully states, “Expect to spend around $130 on a good pair of running shoes.” Huh? The most I’ve ever spent on a pair of shoes was less than $110. And, that was the rare exception. The rest of my shoes were in the range of $50-90.

Some of these article do mention about the benefits of rotating shoes, which I agree with and I’ve been doing in recent years. Of the five pairs of shoes I’m currently rotating through, the oldest (Merrell Bare Access) is in its fifth year (1543 miles); the other four (Merrell Vapor Glove, another Merrell Bare Access, and two Vibram FiveFingers) range from two to four years (~300-800 miles). These articles likewise give no citations for the benefits of shoe rotation. On the latter, there has also not been a lot of research done. Here’s one study from a few years ago: Study Backs Rotating Shoes to Lower Injury Risk (Referenced paper, abstract only: Malisoux et al., 2015). I’ve been fortunate, in all my years of running, to rarely have gotten injured, either from accidents or overuse. Because I’ve been rotating shoes only relatively recently, that has not been the reason for my mostly injury-free running.

But, rotating shoes does give me ample time for post-run shoe maintenance with Shoe Goo and, starting this year, duct tape. Here’s an example from a few days ago with one of the Vibram FiveFingers. I suppose, with time, the soles of my shoes will evolve from Vibram to Ductbram (?!).

Most of my previously mothballed shoes are still around on shelves in the garage. Recently, I noticed that they all had been mothballed at conditions better than those of my current shoes! Evidently, my threshold for mothballing has slowly been changing. So, I guess I could de-mothball those shoes, Shoe Goo and duct tape them, and put them back into rotation service!

I may never need to buy another pair of shoes! (jk! … sort of).

Gels and Bites

For many years now, I’ve been using various brands of energy gels for fuel on long runs (over 13 miles) and during races (half and full marathons). I train with various brands so that, if I have to use the gels that are sometimes available at aid stations of races, there would be a good chance the gel brand would be one to which my body is accustomed. The main ingredients of my current four gel brands are maltodextrin in Clif and Hammer, tapioca and honey in Stinger, and a bit more “real food” in Muir. The latter I’d discovered at the race expo of the November 2019 Harrisburg Marathon. Muir is more expensive ($2.50@) than the other three ($1.50@), but it’s more nutritious, has 150 calories compared with 100 calories of the others, and tastes better! For fueling, I usually take one gel every five miles.

A relatively new fueling option, distinctly different from gels, is Plant Bites. From its Web page: “Athletic fuel made from real food for better performance.” If interested, you can check out the page for the details. Currently, there are three varieties; shown below is Fig + Triple Berry (the two tan-colored Bites are from a previous package of Mango + Banana).

In recent months, I’ve been experimenting with Plant Bites on long runs. For fueling, instead of every five miles, I’ve been taking two Bites (60 calories) every 2.5 miles. There are 24 Bites per package, at $10@ ($8@ if on sale). At regular price, that’s ~$.84 per two Bites or ~$1.68 per four Bites (five miles). At sale price, that’s ~$.66 per two Bites or ~$1.32 per four Bites (five miles). So, the fuel costs for five miles are roughly comparable between gels ($1.50-2.50) and Bites ($1.32-1.68). Calories for five miles are also roughly the same between gels (100-150) and Bites (120). For a 15-mile run, e.g., I’d carry 10 Bites in a plastic sandwich bag and take two Bites at each of Miles 2.5, 5, 7.5, 10, and 12.5.

So, with the cost and caloric content of gels and Bites being about the same, which one is better? Gels are easier to store (pretty much anywhere); whereas Bites, being “real food,” need to be stored in a fridge or freezer. During a race or long run, whether gels or Bites are easier to carry and ingest depends in part on personal preference. For me, Bites are easier—just open the plastic sandwich bag, grab two Bites, pop them into the mouth, and back to the race/run, while ingesting the Bites. Gels are sticky and more prone to messiness and take longer to ingest. Then, there are those tabs at the top of gel pouches that have to be torn away before squeezing out the contents. Clif gel pouches are designed to retain the tab after being torn away. But, with other brands I’ve tried, you’d have to tear the tab carefully to leave just enough of it to not have to carry a loose tab until it could be properly disposed of. In sub-freezing temperatures, with heavy gloves, “keeping a tab on” is a bit tricky.

Taste? Bites wins hands down over most gels; Muir, though, comes close.

One additional consideration: 2.5 miles between each two Bites is mentally easier than 5 miles between each gel! (Half a gel every 2.5 miles? Nah, wouldn’t work!) This is the Work Breakdown Structure idea (See WBS, WBS2).

So, overall, my verdict is Bites over gels, though I’d also carry a gel for backup.

Why I run

 Actually, I've no idea. Not really. There are, of course, the usual answers: to stay healthy, to be fit (Être fort pour être utile), to be sociable (running clubs, races), to challenge oneself, to get "runner's high" (!).

But why do I really run? What gets me up in the pre-dawn darkness, to warm up and head out the door, even when the weather on the other side of the door is not so inviting? Which was the case a few weekends ago, when the forecast for the morning long run (16M) was for a lovely freezing rain.

About five miles into that run, the freezing rain began. It didn't feel that cold, temperature being just above 30F. But my running jacket gradually stiffened, as a thin ice layer built up. By Mile 12, the jacket's zipper had frozen, as had the water bottle's nozzle. It was also getting harder and harder to see clearly, so I finally stopped at a covered walkway of an outdoor shopping area. Only when I took off my glasses did I realize both lenses were iced over on both sides. I spent the next several minutes to huff on the lenses and swipe off the ice with my gloved fingers.

Because of the forecast freezing rain, I was running one of my "intestinal routes" (to be close to home, just in case). It was fortuitous that, when I finally could no longer see through my glasses, I was at the part of the route, this outdoor shopping area, that I often use to run its 1.2-mile lap. (The number of laps depends on the particular run.) The covered walkway, though, is not normally part of the lap. This time, under the cover, I ran the walkway back and forth (about 0.2 mile each way) for about two miles, before heading home.

So, why do I run? Why do I still do these weekend long runs? It’s a great training tool, of course, to enable the body to run more efficiently, and it benefits one’s overall fitness, physically and mentally. But, with most in-person marathons still not in sight anywhere, I'm not training for one. This question has been with me for years. What got me to think about it again was this recent tweet by @saraliciac: “I want whatever the people who run at 6 am have.” With 1.1 million likes, evidently it resonated.

Running is the perfect metaphor for life. So, the fact that I write a running blog is sort of an answer to why I run. (See also Ian Mortimer’s “Why Running Matters.”) Tracksmith is an independent running brand. It’s a bit pricey for me, and I’ve not yet bought anything from it. On its website, it keeps a journal, with contributions from various individuals, e.g., “Have faith in the run.” But, it was the page on “Church of the Long Run”* that caught my eyes several years ago. It’s a product page but had the following:

“The Sunday long run is often conflated with spirituality. It’s an easy comparison: like church, the long run is a weekend ritual. And like any religion, it encourages us to reflect on our shortcomings and appreciate all that we have. The fact that it’s the one run of the week where we push for distance, not speed, only encourages that - done correctly, it’s an introspective, centering experience. We don't all share the same religion, but as runners we're all parishioners at the Church of the Long Run.”

This is similar to the “meditation through movement” of the Tendai Buddhist monks of Mount Hiei of Japan (aka “marathon monks”). See BOSS, the ultimate cross-training, part 4 (spiritual).

Nature as church. Though I'm still searching for an answer, I think that starts to get close to why I run.

* [Updated 11/17/25] This link no longer works. It's been replaced by a new page--better (!), with a cool video.

Virtual races as diminished reality

For foot races, 2020 was a year that wasn't. The tentative postponements of races in the early months of the pandemic eventually gave way to wholesale cancellations, with just a few exceptions for bubble-enclosed elite-only races, limited-registration local races, and some trail races. Plus a few that sneaked through just before the initial shutdown around mid-March, e.g., LA Marathon (6-foot separation during a marathon? Haha), and before the deadliness of the coronavirus became evident.

Even going out for a morning run became problematic in the early days, as different jurisdictions placed various constraints on how far one could go from home. But, a runner gotta run! In fact, running is a natural go-to activity during a pandemic (outdoors, relatively easy to socially distance), as are most other outdoor activities (see 2020 Year in Sport as tracked by Strava).

Creativity is born of necessity, and pandemic constraints sparked the creativity of runners. In the early weeks, many laps were run through houses and apartments. In my case, a "lap" through the house, including two flights of stairs up and down, took about 90 seconds and 200 steps. A 10-lap, 15-minute break couple times during the day did wonders! As time went on, popular alternatives to cancelled races included the Quarantine Backyard Ultra in April; various Fastest Known Time (FKT) attempts (whether supported, self-supported, or unsupported); and races that perhaps could use more support (?).

More artistic are the Strava Art (or GPS Art) creations. Strava Art has been around for years, but it became a useful outlet for expression during 2020. For something new, I started RunMyMindMap, a harder version of “GPS Art.” Here's one I created a few weeks after the 50th anniversary of Earth Day.

Many of the cancelled races offered a virtual replacement, in lieu of deferment to 2021, refund, or donation. Some of my already-registered races became donations. For two half marathons, I chose the virtual option: MCRRC's Parks Half and Walnut Creek Half. I run the latter each year, when I'm in San Francisco for the AGU Fall Meeting, which was also virtual in 2020. Virtual races still come with bibs, swag, and finisher medals. Results of virtual races, though, have a different meaning than those of real races, given that everyone runs a different course.

Though they still felt good to run, virtual races are not the same, of course, as real races. My finishing times for the two virtual races were 10-15 minutes slower than my recent half marathon times. The pace was about the same as, or a bit slower than, that for my 2019 Harrisburg Marathon. I think the biggest factor for the slower times was the lower training mileage, especially during the early months of the pandemic. But also a significant factor was the lack of race conditions in what were basically time trials. Virtual races are more than virtual reality; but the reality is of a diminished kind.

Still, some of the mental aspects of a real race are still present for a virtual race. For example, just having a date (range) for completion and a registration/payment, i.e., an accountability with someone/some organization, make a difference in training. And, sometimes, some of the competitive elements of a real race can also exist. In addition to the two virtual half marathons, I also ran the virtual "Fun Runs" organized by the NASA Goddard Running and Orienteering Club (2-mile and 10K). For the Fall 10K Fun Run, during a good part of Mile 6, there was a guy running on the other side of the road going in the same direction. We ended up sort of racing each other, without acknowledging it, and my pace was 30-40 seconds faster than that of the previous miles. Race conditions matter!

Sure looking forward to some real races later this year!

Tempo, broken tempo, and mental tempo

For me, a useful definition of "tempo pace" is that at which I could sustain for 3-5 miles but would really like to slow down. My typical workout: 2 miles warm-up, 3-5 miles tempo pace, 1-2 miles cool-down. The tempo part is run either at the local high school track or on the road, at a current pace of about 8:00-8:30/mile.

During the early weeks and months of the pandemic, the uncertainty of what's out there constrained my training runs to laps through the house or around the lot. When I finally ventured out to run, I had lost some fitness. So, to ease back into training, I began running what I call the "broken tempo," i.e., breaking each mile into a tempo part and a slower recovery part. I began with 0.5 mile tempo/0.5 mile slow and incremented 0.05 mile every couple weeks or so, sometimes with variations, e.g., first two miles at 0.6/0.4, third mile at 0.65/0.35. Over several months, I was back to regular tempo runs of 3 miles. (In writing this post, I came across this informative article on tempo runs and found that "broken tempo" is an actually used term!)

This process of easing back into training revealed some interesting mental aspects of tempo running ("mental tempo"!). For example, for a broken tempo of 0.8/0.2, towards the end of the 0.8, I was feeling the effort. Yet, after I got back to 3-mile tempo runs, knowing that there are no slow-run segments, those first 0.8-mile's felt easier, not needing as much effort. This I find generally to be the case, i.e., once "committed," the perceived effort seems lower. Once I've committed to the full 3 miles, the 0.8-mile mark of each mile lost its significance; I just ran right past it. I stayed at 3 miles for several weeks. Then, one morning, in the midst of a 3-mile tempo run, I decided to extend it to 3.5 miles. Once decided--mentally committed--that additional 0.5 mile also seemed not that hard. The perception of effort decreased. I'm currently at 4 miles for tempo runs and will be at 5 miles in another month or so.

RunMyMindMap

Early this past May, on the way back from my morning run, I took a detour to NASA or, rather, my version of the NASA "worm." I was passing by the local middle school and decided to use the lines of its tennis courts to run the worm. The area of the tennis courts is too small for the GPS watch accuracy, so the trace was less precise than how I actually ran it.

For comparison, here’s the actual “worm”:

I’m not sure what inspired me to run the worm that morning. Maybe because a few weeks earlier, April 22nd, was the 50^th anniversary of Earth Day, and NASA had provided lots of resources to help everyone celebrate #EarthDayAtHome. Maybe because, after several initial weeks of COVID-19 lockdown, during which I stayed within a 3-mile radius of home on the morning runs, I finally ventured beyond and was feeling exhilarated.

As “GPS Art” goes, the worm is pretty basic. I figured perhaps I should start easy. The previous and only other time I’d tried to run a pattern was in San Francisco, where I was attending the AGU Fall 2019 Meeting. The result was not quite up to what I’d expected; a GPS artist I’m not (yet)!

Around the world, however, runners and cyclists (and others) over the past 6-7 years have taken GPS Art to the level of … well, kind of art. Here are some examples: 1, 2, 3. If you search for hashtags like #StravaArt or #GPSArt, you can see many others. The more intricate and fancier patterns need to cover really large areas, with dense street or road networks, to be able to express the details. These patterns are more often done by cyclists, though a sufficiently long run could also afford the opportunity for a runner’s creativity. Some GPS watches have a “pause” function, which allows one to pause the tracking, move to some other location, and then restart the tracking. This function would obviate the need to retrace segments of a pattern or the need for any extraneous segments. To me, however, that would take the challenge—and fun—out of the route planning!

After I ran the NASA worm and posted the result on Facebook, a colleague commented, What about the NASA “meatball”? At first, looking at the tennis courts, I thought that’s probably not doable, even if there were a few more openings in the chain-link fence between the courts. But then I noticed the adjacent roundish field, just beyond the baseball diamond. Hmm, interesting ... would need a couple test runs to set some mental directional markers. Challenge accepted!

The main difference, the qualitative difference, between GPS Art and running the meatball on that field is the latter’s lack of any grid for guidance. GPS Art freestyle! Whereas GPS Art is mostly careful route planning and, then, lots of time and patience to execute the plan, GPS Art freestyle requires a certain spatial skill. One needs to be able to see the mind’s map and continuously maintain an accurate sense of one’s location, using whatever directional and location markers are available. The area used for a freestyle pattern would thus have to be fairly small, like my roundish field. Pre-run planning for freestyle is similar to that for GPS Art (i.e., minimize retracing and extraneous segments), except the route is sketched on a blank sheet of paper, not a street or road map. In lieu of a guiding grid, I looked for markers. For example, there is a house just across the street from the tip of the chevron; so, as I run along the lower half of the chevron, I’d aim for that house. GPS Art would be an artistic subset of MapMyRun, and GPS Art freestyle is kind of the reverse of MapMyRun. RunMyMap (?), as another colleague suggested. But, because “map” in this case is in the mind, I think RunMyMindMap is better.

So, how did I do with the meatball? Here’s my first try, with the meatball distance at about 0.7 mile. Evidently, it’s a somewhat harder problem than the worm. No wonder NASA switched from the meatball to the worm in 1975 (😊).

Though I ran the meatball a few more times, none came out better than my second try. Compared with the first try, the sphere is rounder; the chevron, though its curves are still not quite right, now extends beyond the sphere's border; and the orbital path is more properly elliptical. The letter sizes, though, are still too big (compare the actual NASA “meatball”).

Running the meatball was more challenging—and more fun (!)—than running the worm. I've other patterns in mind to try. Stay tuned!

Rotating through running shoes

The generally recommended mileage for running shoes before replacement ranges from ~500 miles for traditionally cushioned shoes to ~300 miles for minimalist shoes. There is no shortage of magazine articles on replacing running shoes, with pretty much the same content. See, e.g., 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, the first five results from a Google search on “running shoes replacement.” Here's a recent one from Runner's World. Another article from the New York Times (2013) has a good, balanced discussion—and the only one I have read so far that noted the shoe companies’ perspective: “Most shoemakers, of course, would prefer to see us trade in sooner.” 😀

There are three general areas of discussion in these articles:

1. Indicators of wear related to the runner (e.g., running form affected, pain/injury) and the shoe (e.g., smooth tread, loss of cushion).

2. Factors affecting wear related to the runner (e.g., weight, running mechanics, non-running use, shoe rotation), the shoe (e.g., sole material), and the environment (e.g., weather, running surface and terrain).

3. Tips to minimize wear (e.g., shoe rotation, proper handling, dedicated use to running).

Overall, there is limited research on shoe wear and replacement, including that on shoe mileage and injury.

Being a minimalist runner, though, none of this matters all that much to me. Shoes for me are just to provide some protective barrier against sharp objects and general debris, as well as too hot or too cold surfaces. If a pair of shoes is not literally falling apart, it is good to go. Here are couple footprints from my first pair of Vibram FiveFingers (VFF) on light snow.

The human foot does not need cushioning, naturally. I have been running in minimalist shoes for almost a decade; very seldom have I gotten injured. My transition from cushioned to minimalist shoes was, however, very gradual, over the course of more than a year.

I do rotate through running shoes. The benefits of rotation noted by several of the articles include prolonging the lifespan of shoes and, possibly, reducing the risk of running-related injuries. On the latter, there is also limited research. A study published in 2013 concluded that “multiple shoe use and participation in other sports are strategies potentially leading to a variation of the load applied to the musculoskeletal system.” This variation in loading then possibly results in lowered injury rate.

The following shows the mileages and years for my five currently rotating shoes. I have previously written about how Shoe Goo (or other similar products) can be used to extend the lifespan of running shoes and to get significantly more miles out of a pair of shoes than the generally recommended mileage.

The wear pattern is clear, as shown by where the Goo is applied. The right-side wear is at mid-sole along the edge; the left-side wear (not shown) is mostly at the heel. This differential wear can be seen in the above photo of VFF footprints on snow. But wait, Merrell Vapor Glove? Why is that Shoe Goo’ed, at 35 miles? See my tweet below …

The two Merrell Bare Access pairs have more miles per year, because I more often wear them for long runs. I use the VFFs more for shorter interval and tempo runs.

So, rotation plus Shoe Goo are what allows me to accumulate those high shoe mileages.

Hole in the sole? No problem! Just patch it up, let it dry, and it is ready for the next run—after rotation!

As for the Merrell Vapor Glove, here is my Twitter convo with Merrell, so far. I have not heard back from them since the 19^th …

Treadmill strategies for a pandemic

The following is an extract from a post I did about running on a treadmill during Snowzilla Jonas back in January 2016. Currently, most places are under increasingly tighter restrictions on outdoor activities, including running routes being confined to shorter and shorter radii from home and, possibly eventually, to laps around one's home and, finally, to the treadmill. Perhaps these mental strategies that had helped me get through that 18-mile Jonas run would resonate with other runners. Let me know what gets you through a long run on a treadmill!

[BEGIN EXTRACT]
Starting with the 18 miles in four parts and Miles 5, 10, and 15 being fuel+water breaks, I further broke the run down with water breaks every 2.5 miles and then individual miles of each 5-mile segment, as follow:

Mile 1: Warm-up, getting into the rhythm (even after the first 5-mile segment).
Mile 2: "Historical," especially the second 0.5 mile. The NordicTrack shows distance with three decimals (i.e., 1.xxx). So, 1.620 would be Pilgrims at Plymouth; 1.776 would be Declaration of Independence; 1.860+ would be Civil War, etc. Once the distance gets to 1.900, the historical events get more personal (birth years, high school, college, work, etc.).
Mile 3: Water break at mid-point.
Mile 4: Toughest mile of the five!
Mile 5: Fuel intake starting at ~4.500; first date until ~4.700; second date until ~4.900; third date just before 5.000 then water; fourth date just after resetting the treadmill for the next 5-mile segment (more on this later). At Mile 15 (end of third 5-mile segment), PowerGel starting at ~4.500 and mostly finished just before 5.000 then water; last bit of gel just after resetting the treadmill for the final 5K segment.

Beyond the individual miles, there were the individual tenths of a mile. And, ultimately, there was the present moment and being mindful of it, so that, as I ran, I knew I was running. I knew whether or not I was relaxed; I knew on what part of my soles I was landing; I knew whether or not I was breathing properly. Ultimately, being mindful makes running on a treadmill not that different from running outside.

Opportunity privilege in running - addendum

In Opportunity privilege in running, I wrote about how, sometime when I watch crowds go by in public spaces, I’d wonder why those who obviously need to go out and run don’t and how the comparison to myself is not quite fair, because I have the privilege of opportunity that others may not have. The comparison is also not fair, because the reasons for which I run—my drivers—are different. I run not to maintain a certain weight, to stay fit, to be healthy, etc. These do matter to me, of course, but they are not really why I run, not what drives me, not what gets me out the door—though the wind chill on the other side of the door may be on the other side of zero. I run because running is part of my life—je cours, donc je suis. :) So, to me, it’s not that big a deal to head out on a Sunday morning into the rain for a 4-hour, 22-mile run. (OK, a bit more of a deal than if it’d been sunny.) Fair comparison or not, the point I’d made about opportunity privilege remains unchanged. I began running back in high school and have not stopped since, including, for the past 10 years or so, “serious” marathon training. That running has become part of my life is due in no small measure to the privilege of opportunity I’ve had.