3 months to go

This is starting to freak me out. Big time. Three months is nothing and it feels like I’ve only just begun planning my training. I have high hopes for the coming month though. With the holidays out of the way I finally have time to focus on running. I also have the perfect test coming up in about a month, on February 11. Starting at midnight I’ll be running a 10k every three hours along with a bunch of other ultra crazies. This goes on until the last interval starts at 9 pm. All in all I’ll cover half the distance of my goal race if all goes well. If it doesn’t I’ll most likely have an idea on what to fix and how.

The first couple of weeks of this year have been a disappointment with regards to training. At least in some ways. So far this year I’ve run 53 kilometers and done one strength session. I have my reasons though, I spent one week visiting family and I just couldn’t justify doing long runs when I so rarely get to see them. After I returned home things have been a lot better. I’ve run three out of four days and each run has been at least 10k. Also, the plan for tomorrow is to run for three hours on a treadmill. Should be a good indicator of where I stand right now and if nothing else it should build a little bit of mental toughness. That’s the part I really have a hard time grasping: how to keep running for an entire day or more. I have a feeling that staring at a wall or my reflection in a TV screen that’s been switched off for several hours at a time could be a good way to prepare. My other strategy for building the fitness necessary is to run outside at least a few times per week. These runs aren’t mainly about improving endurance though, the goal is to get my ankle and lower legs used to uneven ground and the rest of my body accustomed to the feeling of not knowing how a foot strike will feel beforehand. The place for these sessions is a local jogging trail that’s now covered in a foot or two of semi-firm snow. It’s almost dense and packed enough to support my weight while running. Almost. This is where the randomness comes in. I know it will break and I will sink a little with each step but I have no way of telling how much or which way my foot will twist beforehand. Right now, a few miles is enough to reduce me to a quivering, whimpering mess but I intend to keep doing this until I stop being weak.

Finally, I did one of those snowy runs today. Two laps of the trail, one lap in summer takes 12-13 minutes but in the current conditions a lap takes 20 or more, I got tired enough from that, and then the long way home to get my planned 90 minutes in. This paragraph is all about explaining the conditions I run in now, by the way. When I got home afterwards it took me a couple of minutes just to get rid of the giant icicles in my beard. As it turns out, running hard in the cold does strange things to your appearance. The funny thing is, I’ve not felt this good after a run in months.

15 weeks to go

If everything goes according to plan I’ll be running the second half of a 100 mile race in exactly 15 weeks. Barefoot. And I’ll probably be questioning my sanity right about now, after 20 hours in motion more or less. I’ll most likely be asking myself the same questions I’ve asked myself for the last two months, since I signed up for it, questions like why am I in the middle of a forest just outside Stockholm in the middle of the night instead of lying in my bed? Why can’t I ever just do stuff in moderation, like run one marathon and see how that goes first instead of signing up for a race that’s almost four times that distance? Of course, the mental image I’m trying to bring up is the exact opposite. It’s one where I’m after those same 20 hours closing in on 80 miles and I’m feeling great and I have a decent shot at finishing in under 24 hours. Right now, that’s not very likely but it’s what I’m working towards. I’ll be thrilled if I even finish before the cut off of 30 hours but going under 24 would be, well, awesome.

Time for some answers then.

Why am I doing this? Quite simply, because it scares the crap out of me. Seriously. Running 100 miles is something I just can’t wrap my head around but it seems like my kind of challenge. I’d estimate my odds of finishing right now as well below 50%, more like 20% or so. Here lies the attraction for me. I like to plan and prepare and then just throw caution to the wind and get on with doing it. So far, it’s been a lot of planning and preparing and, I think, not enough doing. More on that later.

The question everyone seems to ask me is “Why barefoot?” The answer is simple. I don’t wear shoes to run if I don’t have to. The course is, as far as I’ve been able to tell, fairly non-technical and flat without too much gravel so it should be possible to run it barefoot. A few laps shouldn’t be a problem but 16? I guess I’ll find out. The only issue I can see that’s course related is if spring arrives late this year. If that’s the case some of the course might be covered in ice and the temperature could possibly drop below freezing during the night. Normally, I do pretty well in the cold barefoot but how my body reacts after more than 10 hours of running is yet another unknown. This might be the thing that makes me switch from focusing on doing it barefoot to just completing the race. Then there’s the very real possibility that my feet just aren’t up to it. Or any other part of my body for that matter. As always, I have a plan on what to do in most cases. Most of them involve Vaseline or shoes or a combination of the two.

How am I doing this? Well, I’m going to spend the next 10-12 weeks running a lot. Slowly mostly but with more and more fast stuff mixed in as I get closer to the race. Most of my running will be done on a treadmill to keep my soles in shape but I’ll also mix in at least a couple of trail runs for stability and leg strength each week. I’ll also try to get in a couple of functional fitness sessions each week since, well, I’m weak. It’s pathetic, really.

The two biggest issues I have with my training plan are patience and discipline. I’m way too fond of sitting on my ass doing nothing to train for an ultra and yet I’m doing it. This is even more true of functional fitness stuff. I’ve only managed one session so far even though I’ve had every intention of doing one or two more since then. Patience then. Since I don’t have any idea what it’s like to run anything close to this distance I really don’t know if what I’m doing is what I should be doing so I don’t have as much confidence as I’d really need in my training and that it will get me to where I need to be come race day. Still, it’s the best I can do with what I do know. Seriously, the worst thing that can happen is I get injured either before or during the race and if so, there’s always next year. Pulling out of the race because I’m not able to continue is also a very real possibility but it’s also something I can’t control now in any other way than just doing the work I think I need to do now and then hoping for the best.

The final question then. Why am I writing this? Accountability. Also, it’s yet another fail-safe. If I commit to do this race publicly and write regular progress reports then, hopefully, I’ll be more inclined to actually run as much as I should. The fail-safe in this is that if I put my thoughts in writing instead of just having them swirling around in my head I’ll hopefully catch most of my errors and if I don’t, someone else might.

Confessions of a barefoot weirdo

If you’d said to me a few years ago that I’d sit here feeling sorry for myself for having to wear something on my feet for the next 24 hours I wouldn’t have believed you but it’s true. I’ve finally decided to try and get rid of my athlete’s foot which means I need to have my feet covered for the gel to stay on my feet long enough.  This might not sound that bad and it isn’t, really. It’s just that I’ve become accustomed to going barefoot everywhere this summer. I can’t even remember the last time I wore socks and on average over this summer I think I’ve worn shoes for less than an hour per week. I really don’t like to wear shoes anymore. That would be confession number one.

When I’m running I often get asked by people if it hurts to go barefoot and I always answer with a cheerful “nope”. The fact of the matter is that it really doesn’t most of the time. At other times it does. A lot. I just don’t tell people about this. Why? First of all it’s because there’s rarely any time to do it since the people who ask do it as they pass me and don’t seem to be interested in having a conversation so I’d just rather have them know about the good parts. Secondly, when something hurts it’s for a very short while. If I step on a particularly nasty piece of gravel and it hits a sensitive spot on my foot, the joints on my big toes being the worst, it’ll only hurt for a minute at the most and then everything will be back to normal. So yes, barefoot running hurts, we just let you figure that out for yourselves. That’s confession number two.

So why do I do this then? Why do I expose myself to sharp objects and various other nasty things when I could easily just put on a pair of shoes like everyone else? Well, part of it is because I like the attention. It’s a lot of fun to watch the expressions on people’s faces as they see me approach, it ranges from curiosity to disgust and it adds another element to the running experience for me. Another part of it is that it feels good, really good, most of the time. Running on a semi-rough stretch of asphalt is like having someone massage your feet while you run. No shoe can give you that sensation. Then there’s the little voice in my head that constantly urges me to find my limits and exceed them. Most of the time that voice is a lot quieter than the one telling me that it’s more comfortable to just stay in bed or on the couch and that I’ll probably fail anyway. When it comes to running though, I let it guide me toward new challenges and I love how it makes me feel. The final reason is that I’ve come to dislike shoes, most shoes anyway. I’m guessing I probably could find a pair of shoes that would give me most of the positives of running barefoot while taking away the negatives but I just don’t have the drive to find them. I like being barefoot enough that I’m in no hurry to stop. To me, shoes are like gloves. I put on gloves for two reasons, either to protect myself from cold or to avoid hurting myself in some other way. I treat shoes the same way. If I know I’m going somewhere where the ground won’t be barefoot friendly I’ll put on shoes. My definition of barefoot friendly is constantly changing though as I learn to navigate more and more surfaces.