obsessed with insanity

I'm a hair over 100 pages from finishing "Born to Run," Christopher McDougall's national best seller about "a hidden tribe, superathletes, and the greatest race the world has never seen." It's been the fascinating catalyst for my new obsession with ultra-distance running. I'm spellbound by the concept of running 100 miles, intrigued with the biological science supporting barefoot running, and adding new names to my list of people that can only be described as "anything to do with them is cool, and you should think so, too."

The topic is the epitome of exciting because it's equally insane. Take for example the Leadville Trail 100. McDougall writes a fitting analogy:

"To get a sense [of the Leadville 100]...try running the Boston Marathon two times in a row with a sock stuffed in your mouth and then hike to the top of Pikes Peak. Done? Great. Now do it all over again, this time with your eyes closed. That's pretty much what the Leadville Trail 100 boils down to: nearly four full marathons, half of them in the dark, with twin twenty-six-hundred-foot climbs smack in the middle. Leadville's starting line is twice as high as the altitude where plans pressurize their cabins, and form there you only go up."

And people do this. Because they want to.

Then there's Badwater, "the Foreman Grill in Mother Nature's cupboard," that requires participants to run 135 miles through a scorching 125-degree Death Valley. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you it's nearly a requirement to run on the painted white line if you'd prefer your shoes not melt and broil on the blacktop stove.

It's crazy! And I love it. Not because I have any desire to experience it. No thanks. I'd rather stick to my comparatively pithy half marathons (and maybe full marathons), but the simple knowledge that such races exists (and you have to have participants to have a race) is both sick (in the younger-generation, "good" sense) and inspiring.

It's also lead me to take my own running to a new level. I'm going to exchange my Mizuno Elixers that haven't left the box yet for a pair of Vibram FiveFinger (barefoot) shoes. All the evidence that proves running barefoot is better has convinced me of its veracity. I could recount the research minutia, but I won't. Bottom line: Wearing running shoes means injury at some point in your running career. The more expensive the shoe, the greater the risk. (And here I've been preaching all this time that a good running shoe will cost you.) The God-given way to strengthen your feet (and prevent injury) is to run with naked pods. So I'm going to try it with a minimalist pair of these:


Maybe you think I'm crazy. And maybe I am. We'll see. Either way, you should try running. A lot of people who run are crazy, but it's not a prerequisite. :)