A few months ago, a former student of mine – Megan Brooks – posted about her new shoes. I’d never seen anything like them, but I was intrigued. The “glove” shoes (or Alien Shoes as Megan called them) were little more than a rubber-like glove for you feet.
No support. No cushion. Nothing that you’ve been told you needed to run properly.
Of course, the idea that you need padded shoes to run is – when you think about it for a minute – silly. After all, we exist. We are the only sub-species of Homo genus who survived in part because we could walk upright and run. And as far as I know, there were no shoe factories back then.
I’ll spare you the details and science that suggests barefoot running is best for you (you can find much of it in this amazing book Born to Run, if you believe in things like science), but I was hooked on the concept as soon as Megan pointed out the shoes.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
**
Twenty-six weeks and one day ago, I smoked my last cigarette after spending most of my adult life doing so. It wasn’t a big decision although it certainly wasn’t fun quitting. But I’d eliminated drinking from my life and smoking seemed the next logical step.
To do that, I needed something physical. Something that would allow me to feel my body again. While I’d never been an elite athlete, I’d played sports most of my life. I grew up doing things with my body. Throwing. Running. Catching. Hitting. Swinging. Chasing. Swimming. Biking.
I am used to a body in motion.
Smoking and drinking robbed much of that from me. So as I smoked my last cigarette, I vowed to get myself back into shape. Real shape. (Not pear shaped.)
Thus began the running.
**
Halfway is not a way that I understand.
I can’t remember a week going by in adulthood when somebody hasn’t told me that I’m intense, intimidating, overwhelming or terrifying. I can only assume these things are true. I don’t have any frame of reference for it.
I’m quite used to the me that is me.
But I think what they mean is this: once I began running, I vowed to run a marathon by the end of the year. I began an intense training regiment that within weeks had me running 30-40 miles per week. (This, as it turns out, is just my “warm up” for the actual training regiment that starts next week.) During my training, I’ve run in Ohio, Indiana, Nebraska, Texas, California, Berlin, London, Sheffield, Brighton and Northampton. Three countries, more than a dozen cities and five time zones.
There were no “days off,” despite my travels. No skipped days.
Just running.
At the mid-point of my training, I signed up for 2 1/2 marathons this year, a trail marathon in December (that covers 7300 meters of elevation and descent), 3 marathons next year and I’m currently bugging my friend to join me in a 50K Ultra Marathon in August 2011 in preparation for a 100K in 2012.
**
Back to Megan, though, and her Alien Shoes. And Born to Run.
It’s not enough to just run. I’ve thrown myself into the lifestyle, which includes over-hauling my diet, my sleep, my exercise. Everything.
Including my shoes.
Today I went for my first run with my new shoes: the Vibram Five Fingers KSO Trek.
I’d heard it might feel strange. (You’re properly instructed to start with short runs. I’m keeping my shoes – for now – for the longer runs, until my legs adjust properly.) However, it wasn’t as odd as I expected. The two biggest aspects that caught me off-guard: feeling my feet grip the ground while I ran (uphill especially) and using my calf muscles to run.
Instead, I felt energized feeling the ground beneath me. It felt like I was gliding across the ground, not hopping up and down. Like I was leaping forward despite my tentative nature. (I ran a good minute per mile slower since I didn’t know what to expect.)
But I can’t wait to put them on again. It felt that good. That clean. That natural.
**
Which brings me to the real point of this post: Brad@40.
In 18 months, I’ll turn 40 years old. While I’m not there yet, it’s an age I never thought I’d see. I spent 15 years of my life trying to kill myself with drugs and alcohol. I ran my body to what nearly became a very early grave. Purposefully.
I say that because in my 2 years, 2 months and 26 days of sobriety, I’ve been lucky enough to rediscover the person I always hoped I would be. I’ve had the chance to reconnect with my friends during The Year Of Friends, I’ve had the chance to begin repairing my body during The Year of Health and now I will have the chance to find the new ending to my life with Brad@40, my attempt to choose the life I want to live for the rest of my days instead of toiling along the path I stumbled upon so many years ago. (Not that is hasn’t been an amazing life. It has. But that life is slowly coming to a close.)
I have taken up running. I have started to procure my camping equipment. I have started.
There is more to come in the next few months, things I’m not yet committed to in public. Rest assured, though, the changes are coming.
Because it’s time to stop running from and start running to. Because halfway is not something I understand.
And because we can’t rewrite the past, but we can rewrite the ending.
We all can.
