Low-Pro for Yo’ Go-Go: New Balance MR00

On my run home on Friday, I stopped by Skinny Raven , and picked up a pair of New Balance MR00. Running Times has a review here, but it’s pretty brief. I tried on the MR00 a couple weeks after they hit the market, around the same time I bought those slices of blue and black sponge cake masquerading as running shoes (Brooks Pure Flow). They fit my feet pretty well, despite having a bit of an elf-boot last. So far, I’ve only got about 10 miles on the shoes – I raced in them on Saturday (3.1), and ran home in them yesterday (7.5), so the jury is still out of course, but here are my initial impressions.

New Balance calls them “zero-drop” but Running Times says they have 1.6mm if drop; I couldn’t care less whether it’s 0 or one-point-whatever. The fact is that these shoes are very minimal when it comes to heel-toe drop, and I feel it when I run in them. In fact, yesterday, for the the first couple of miles, I felt some initial lower leg fatigue similar to what I recall from running barefoot or in my Vibram FiveFingers. I’ve been running in the MR10 for over a year now, and even the transition from the 10 to the 00 is quite noticeable.

The ride? Well, that’s interesting. I expected more of a race-flat feel, but what I’m getting is an ultralight trainer (6.4 oz) feel instead. Odd, right? While I raced in them on Sat, they just didn’t feel like racing flats, like my Asics Piranhas. They feel a little more stiff, and little more dense underfoot. I’m telling you – I need to do some more research on what New Balance is doing with their midsoles vs. everyone else…I’ve been terribly impressed with their ability to create minimal shoes that don’t ride all sloppy. For a guy my size (5’11″, 184lbs), a solid midsole is critical to achieve good proprioreception.

The outsole is done smartly. Vibram rubber only where you need it, and nowhere else. It’s a good idea, nothing new really, just running the midsole as an outsole in certain places, but it keeps it light. The sacrifice, and there’s always a sacrifice, could  be anticipated in shoe service life. I bet these bad boys don’t last me 300 miles.

Anyway, that’s it for now. Gotta run. I’ll let you know what I think as I put in some more mileage.

If I took dozens of artsy photos of my new kick reviews, but never actually ran in them…I’m sure this blog would be, like, super popular.
Check out the outsole Vibram pattern. Ideal for a mid-forefoot strike.

Race Report: Faster Than a Falcon 5k

Starting two Fridays ago, I was in Memphis for some awesome training with the boys. The days were long, hot, and muggy, which didn’t leave me with much gas at the end of the day. I did manage to squeeze in a couple of runs, but when you spend 12 hours a day on your feet, running around in full battle rattle, going for  a jog at the end of the day isn’t the first thing on your list. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I got about 5 hours of sleep a night, and usually knocked back a couple of beers around the table each night. Add some long travel days, and what arrived back in Anchorage Saturday night was a nicely de-tuned machine.

So this week was all about getting back into rhythm, but managing things so I didn’t end up overloading. An easy single on Monday, followed by a challenging double on Tuesday, to include AM strength work and afternoon with the Peak Performers again: 6 x 800m @ 2:36-41 with 2:00 rest. Wed was 6.5M in, and 10+ back out, Thu was an easy AM jog with Rider followed by 4 x 30s/45s/60s hard hills + strength; Friday was an EZ 6.5M home. By Fri, I accumulated 50M, two strength workouts, two Quality  (Tue/Thu) workouts, and eight separate runs. Not surprisingly, my legs weren’t exactly fresh when I woke up Saturday morning, but they weren’t supposed to be. I made the decision to “train through” the race, meaning I didn’t really take it easy during the week.

Jen, Rider and I loaded up and headed to Clark Middle School, in the Mountain View neighborhood of Anchorage. It’s an interesting place; low-income and a higher crime rate from what I hear. I guess a few years ago, some developers made a concerted effort to try and revitalize the neighborhood by putting in a lot of modern architecture structures and renovating homes here and there. The jury is still out on the long-term effects, but it was interesting to see some new homes with nice lines sandwiched in between pretty rough-looking joints. 100% of the race proceeds went to the Mt View Boys and Girls Club; last year they raised $7000.

Warmup finished, it’s time to get after it…

The course was pancake-flat, so as I warmed up I knew the terrain would be no excuse for the day. The weather was ideal – 40s and very little wind. If anything, knocking the rust off, and establishing a baseline for my current fitness were myobjectives. I harbored a faint hope that I might slip in under 17:00, but I knew it was a long shot. I shed my watch before I stepped to the line, which was something I haven’t done in a long while. I had no idea what kind of pace I might be able to run, and my intent was to simply run hard, with as little objective feedback as possible. Don’t get me wrong – having a GPS strapped to your wrist is an incredible tool in terms of data and instant feedback. But my mental game is terrible – there have been races completely wasted because I’m working hard, see a slower pace than I’d like, get negative, and tube the rest of the race.

When the starter released us, there were some kids who took off at a dead sprint, and I just let them go as I settled into a nice hard pace. By the time we made the first turn, about a half mile in, I was in the lead. I judged my pace to be around 5:15, but couldn’t be sure without my GPS. Somewhere before the first mile, I noticed there was someone was on my shoulder, breathing as hard as me. I thought about letting him pass with the idea I could catch a draft, but decided against it. As we approached 1M, he pulled even, and I was struck by how much he reminded me of my old friend and Academy running mate Patrick Shanahan. He surged just before the mile, and we both crossed in around 5:23-24 according to the person announcing splits. At this point a few things happened. I was a little disappointed I wasn’t moving more quickly based on my effort level, but tried to push it to the back of my mind. At this time, the kid was pulling away, and I lost mental contact until he had about 10 meters on me because I was too busy thinking about my split.

In retrospect, this was the critical point in the race. I should have covered his surge and hung on his shoulder. Instead, I just kind of minimalized him, thinking he might be a low-16s 5k runner, so I wouldn’t be able to stick regardless. But deep inside my little oxygen-hungry mind, a doubt registered: this guy is going to run high 16s, and if you don’t stick with him, you will not. I let him go.

Dry heave in action.

By Mile 2, he had a significant gap on me. I tried to keep up the positive self-talk. There were brief periods where I looked at the gap and felt like it was manageable to start closing it. I would take a couple of hard strides, but that was about it. Nobody announced the splits at Mile 2, so I had no idea how badly my pace was falling off. There are only two possibilities when you get passed: either you’re slowing down or whoever is passing you is speeding up. While I hoped it was the latter, I knew it was the former. Then I realized someone else was pulling even with me around 2.5M into the race. At this point, all I could think of was the finish, and there wasn’t a lot of positive rattling around in my brain. I matched his surge for a about 100m, then let him go. I was now in third.

That’s where I stayed through the finish, not even sprinting for the finish. I saw 17:32 as I crossed the line, and that was it.

I’ve processed the race over the past 48hrs, and there are both positives and negatives to take from it. On the positive side, 17:32 for my first race since Nov isn’t too bad. It’s only about 10-15s off my best mark from last year. It tells me what I did over the winter gave me a good cardiovascular base and capacity, and that my leg turnover didn’t suffer much. The speed is there. On the negative side, my lack of mental focus and tenacity yesterday was a little embarrassing. I should have hung with that guy until I was absolutely ad extremis and struggling. Instead, I took a mental break and lost contact with someone who could have helped drag me to a faster time. I’m not sure if I had a sub-17 in me yesterday, but I know 17:30 wasn’t the best I could have done.

Moving ahead, I have my work cut out for me if I want to break 17:00 by the end of July. But then again, putting in the work has never been an issue. Putting it all together on race day is the real challenge, and to get there my mental game is going to need some serious improvement.

Tuesdays with the Peak Performers Track Club

Yesterday, Jen and I hit up the Peak Performers Track Club here in Anchorage. They meet every Tuesday at 6pm at the West High track, which is super convenient for us, living only a short distance away. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how the stumps were going to respond. Having taken two days off over the weekend, I expected some fresh legs for my Monday morning run. Instead, I found they were heavy, stale, and in a foul mood. I did some pickups at the end of my morning run in an effort to invigorate my legs, but I didn’t see a big improvement after running home, making Monday a 13M day in total. Yesterday morning, I ran the long way into work (~10.25M).  Again, I felt sluggish.

Jen and I got to West just in time for the Coach’s Brief . Peak Performers starts every workout the same way – the coaches brief (yesterday it was Jason Hofacker) the workout, then everyone does 800m of drills, plyometrics, and sprints. Following this, folks split into similar pacing groups and begin the workout. Being new, and not sure of what to expect, I enjoyed the warmup section. I’m a big believer in warmups that combine easy cardio as well as some faster, more powerful stuff; I’ve always felt like simply running a couple of miles easy before a track workout makes the first couple of intervals feel pretty rough. The warmup led to the workout: 12 x 400m with 45s rest, but the workout was scaled based on current fitness. Folks training less at this time did 7 x 400 (Jen did this), more training meant more quarters.

To be honest, the short recovery period came as a bit of a shock. When I trained in Tucson with Michele Hill and The Grinders, short recoveries were par for the course. But training with Matthew Whitis, I got more used to 200m jog recoveries and the like. 45s was the shortest recovery I have done in some time. So, with that in mind, I told Jen to start slow and work into it, and hoped she would end up in a group that helped her along. As for me, I figured if I started around 85s (5:40 pace) and eased into it; that would be the most prudent course of action. Workouts like this have a way of goading you into writing checks your body can’t cash. Before you know it, you’re going way too hard, barely recovering, and you’re not even a third of the way through the entire workout. That makes for a long session…

I laced up my track spikes, and got ready to start the workout. Mike, the guy I ran hills with last week, joined me but let me know he was going to keep it tame due to some lower leg issues. It was a little blustery out, but the temps were low-50s, the perfect running temp. The first interval was nice and relaxed – 86s. I was able to talk during the interval and it felt good to be out in my spikes, stretching my legs. The next one was a tad bit faster: 83s (5:32 pace). Then 82s (5:28 pace), then 81 (5:24 pace).  When I run intervals, I learned a technique years ago to make the workout more mentally palatable. I break the intervals into mental sets. So, for 12 x 400, I think of running sets of 4. I start with #1, end at #4, then start over at #1. Repeat until finished. Even thought the workout might not delineate between sets, it helps me mentally stay on track and breaks the workout down into bite-sized pieces. After the first four yesterday, I could tell I was still approaching the sweet spot.

The rest of the workout went like this: 81s, 79s, 79s, 80s, 78s, 79s, 79s, 79s, 76s.  If you counted those up and arrived at 13 as opposed to 12, you’d be correct. I ran one extra by accident. Lucky 13!

So, you can see my equilibrium point was right around 79s (5:16 pace), which actually surprised me given how little speed work I’ve done since Oct, and how heavy I am right now (184lbs). I’m hoping this means I’m closer to my goals for the season (sub 17 5k, sub 35 10k) than I give myself credit for, but only racing can determine where my fitness truly resides.

In case you were wondering, Jen killed her workout. She ran with some ladies who were throwing down just under 2:00 quarters (sub-8:00 pace). Not bad for not having run much over the winter, I’d say!

Overall, it was a great workout, and I never really noticed my legs much. Even though I ended up running solo (Mike dropped back to a slower group after the third interval), it was great just having some other folks out there on the track. It also didn’t hurt that Jen was out there as well, and I love running with my wife.

Alright, that’s it for now. I need to get my butt out the door and off to work. Miles!

 

 

Strength for Endurance

Minions of the Interwebz,

Greetings. I am about to kick off a series on strength for runners. But before I regale you with my particular ideas, I was curious if there is anything you would like me to cover. Right now, it will be a two or three post series, broken into general approaches, specific schools of thought I find useful, and a sample of my own training.

If you are interested in anything specific, please leave it in the comments below. Ideas might include the utility of Crossfit, or maybe specific exercises useful in treating lingering injuries. Whatever it might be, I am interested in giving you whatcha want.

Hulking out,

Matty K

Tsunami Debris, Part 5

Sometime the last week of March, Yokota AB

I’m staring at my computer screen again. Zoning out to some website. I could be working on my Japanese, but I’m not. I could be working on ways to improve relations with the Japanese Rescue Coordination Center, but I’m not doing that either. In fact, I’m not doing much of anything. The week since I got back from Sendai is a watercolor painting sprayed down with a garden hose. Blurred 12 hour days are wearing me down and blending one into another. Luckily, I’ve been able to start squeezing in some gym time before and after work, but there really isn’t much time outside of that, eating, then sleeping.

The work is almost non-existent. Those who could be saved already have been, and the damn Japanese give us the Heisman every time we push proposals to put teams out to help with the body recoveries. Without much going on for Rescue, that doesn’t leave me with much to do. The 33rd is already letting it be known that what they are currently doing, ferrying generals to meetings and flying observation teams to radiation readings, is not going to get them ready for their upcoming Afghanistan deployment. Right now, you’re either on the ground doing actual humanitarian work, or you’re doing what I am: checking email and killing time on the web.

I didn’t sign up for this, I think.

Or did I?

My evening walks to and from work are long enough to provide time to ruminate. Tonight, doubts with my frustration cloud my head:

When you raised your hand, you didn’t tag on any qualifiers. All you said was,”Here am I; send me.” How you deal with what you’ve got is up to you. 

As I’m approaching a corner, I see an airman on a bicycle ahead. I expect him to zip by me, but instead, he sees me, wobbles awkwardly, then jumps off his bike and on to the sidewalk in front of me. His bike crashes to the ground, and I assess the scene, a little stunned. Something is definitely about to happen, but I’m not sure what.

“Sir, are you a PJ?”

I regard him quizzically. “Yes, well, a Combat Rescue Officer, to be exact.”

He snaps to attention and salutes me. I return the salute and he shakes my hand.

“Thank you for what you do, sir. You guys are incredible.”

I thank him, then he re-mounts his bike, and wobbles off. It’s a bizarre exchange, to be sure, but as I amble towards the chow hall, it’s as if somebody turned on the lights in my head. I can choose to complain, or I can choose to make the most of my situation. Sounds trite, but it’s really as simple as that. It’s an inflection point; a place where I finally possess the awareness I need to inform my decisions moving forward and understand the implications of those decisions.

I resolve to make the most of things. Use the time I have to do something good, however small. Whatever I do over the coming weeks, it’s going to be full-speed.

Cherry tree blooms, General Officer Quarters, Yokota AB, Japan

Somewhere between Fussa (where Yokota AB is) and Fuchu (where the JASDF HQ is), 4 Apr 11

I budgeted about 3 hours to make this trip by foot and rail. For a normal Japanese person, this would probably be about a 45 minute affair, tops. But this gaijin isn’t getting anywhere fast; it took me close to 30 minutes to figure out the ticketing machines, I missed a stop twice, and was confounded by another ticket machine when changing lines. I’m on my way to the JASDF Rescue Coordination Center, and it’s no small miracle I’m even making the trip. It has taken me a week of bugging folks over the phone to even get them to agree to meet. Too busy, went the response. Maybe later. Then I was told I couldn’t get clearance into the secured building where the RCC resides. Of course, all this was done very politely.

Being a halfie has its advantages in this situation: I know the Japanese have a weakness for hospitality. Throw some food and/or drink into the equation, and they have to really dislike you to say no. So, I invited the RCC Director to have lunch with me, at his mess hall on his base. Lt Col Okahashi does eat lunch, right?

So, here I am, my uniform crammed into a backpack, getting my tourist on. For the past two weeks I’ve spent at least two hours a day on Rosetta Stone, working my Japanese. But I have little faith in my abilities as of yet. Today, I’ll be meeting with another Air Force officer who speaks it well, and will act as my linguist, which is good. But I see the writing on the wall – folks are re-deploying home left and right. The JOC has gone quite empty by comparison to where it was when I arrived just a few short weeks ago. I’m going to be on my own before too long.

I arrive at my last train station with about an hour to spare, walk a few blocks clutching my Google Maps printout, and I’m here:

Yep. 49 minutes. Or two hours...it's anyone's guess, really...

I meet at the gate with my guy, change into a uniform, then head to the RCC, where we wait. The RCC is located in the Air Support Command HQ building, and they have some cool stuff in the lobby, which I peruse.

The sofas from the aircraft used to transport the royal family. Not allowed to sit here.

Lt Col Okahashi is a thin man, shorter than me, and a few years older. His command of English is better than mine of Japanese, but despite this, a handy pocket translator he keeps nearby, and the fluency of my helper; we still stumble our way through conversation over a lunch of pork katsu at the officer’s mess. The details of what we discuss aren’t that important, but I learn a great deal about his situation. The RCC runs twelve hour shifts, but he’s the only director and essentially works about 20 hours a day and sleeps there. He hasn’t seen his family since before the tsunami, and he played a crucial role in the JASDF SAR response, sending hundreds of helicopter missions out in the first couple of days to rescue distressed Japanese. What we agree to in an hour is nothing earth-shattering: Japanese/English checklists that we both will work from in the event of a SAR mission involving any of the 10,000+ US military members currently supporting TOMODACHI; what our mutual responses will look like; and sharing IRC chat functions in order to have a real-time exchange of information. But for me, it feels monumental. As strange as it sounds, this is the first time these conversations have happened, and I’m driving the process from a dingy basement cubicle.

Lunch ends, and we go our separate ways. I reverse the process, changing back into civilian clothes, back-tracking out the gate to the train station. I put my headphones on, listen to some music on my phone – the newest E-40 and Jay-Z the soundtrack to my little adventure. Around me, the Japanese commute through their daily lives, glued at close-range to the screens of their phones. 9.0M earthquake, 14,000 dead or missing…and still the marked cultural stoicism pushes them forward.

I drop my yen into machines. Get on and off trains. Carry my pack.  Purchase drinks from the ever-present machines. I walk back to work under a blustery, cool spring day, and wonder at it all.

Cherry blossoms in Fuchu

Gear Reviews That Don’t Suck: Zensah Compression Sleeves

Getting back into the rhythm of anything can be hard. Yes, you can not ride a bike for a decade, get back on, and probably be fine. But chances are good you’ll drop it on a tight turn, over brake somewhere, or run into a stop sign in a sheer panic.

The rhythms of recovery for me are always difficult to attain in regular training cycles, let alone when I’m getting back into shape. So, it comes as no surprise to me that this week, which is shaping up to be my heaviest week in some time, I totally forgot about one of my go-to recovery tools: compression sleeves.

Look, I’m not going to lie to you about compression, mostly because I don’t need to. I don’t need to sell you anything. The fact is, the science of compression is way conflicted, and far from definitive. In theory, the compression sleeve constricts the blood vessels in the calf, generating a higher local blood pressure, and thereby increasing the blood flow. Increased blood flow is good because that’s what we need to recover from hard training. When tissue blood flow decreases, problems start. Micro tears don’t heal, cells don’t get fed the necessary nutrients to function properly, and so on and so forth…compression has been in use on the medical side for a long time, but made its way into running over the past few years when companies who previously were limited to overcharging diabetics with circulatory issues, realized a market niche existed within the athletic world (OK, not an objective fact, but certainly a plausible hypothesis). The market has blown up, and every athletic apparel company has their child labor pool hard at work throwing compression-related apparel together.

I started wearing compression sleeves during my pre-Grandma’s training cycle. Not because they were was a convincing reason to, but there certain wasn’t a convincing reason not. When you’re putting in 90-100 miles a week, consuming every form of calorie you can get your sweaty fingers on, and sleeping like an infant; you’ll take whatever you can get if you even remotely suspect it might aid your recovery. So picked them up, and wore them after long runs and hard workouts.

I wish I could tell you that my recovery was appreciably faster, but I didn’t really notice too much. I still had heavy legs the day or two after long runs, and still hurt after a hard workout. So why would I continue to use them?

Well, for one, they feel good, and comfort is an overlooked aspect of recovery. Comfort allows you to relax. Being relaxed allows your body to function within norms. A body functioning within norms rapidly identifies what needs to be healed and does so. My other reason for wearing them is akin to Kierkegaard on God: in the absence of certainty, I’ll err on the side of caution. Caution in this case would be the hoped-for scenario in which the compression sleeves are actually doing what they advertise. Speaking of which, check out the Zensah site for the ones I wear. They’ll set you back about $40.

Making compression look good...but I still had a disappointing race.

Yesterday post-tempo run, I was getting changed to grab dinner and saw my Zensahs in my drawer. The light finally went on, and I donned those bad boys. In fact, I’m wearing them right now, as I type and get ready for my morning run. Who knows – maybe if I’d been wearing them all week, my legs would have felt much better yesterday?

Love+Hate

Yesterday afternoon, I ran home under a great big blue sky of spring Alaska sun. It was 50F and there was just enough breeze to remind you’re just a few degrees off the Arctic Circle. I will say, this was exactly the type of run I looked forward to around Dec 21st, as I pulled on layer over layer and prepared for yet another run into the inky darkness with only my headlamp for company.

However…

I also spent the first mile yesterday hobbling like a geriatric. There just is never a smartphone video camera around when you need it; I would have loved to capture that first mile. Honestly, I had to smile despite the morbidity residing in my quads. It didn’t get a whole lot better, either. Any stop or sudden deceleration was plain old painful. On top of it all, the fuel tank was a little low. 6.5 in the morning + 10.0 home in the afternoon = need for lots of calories. About a mile from home, the magnificent Tordrillo Range spilling sunshine and cloud break off my right shoulder, I stopped, stretched my tight calves, and honestly considered calling Jen for a ride home. By the time I made it through the door, all I could think about was food. I sat down in the pantry, ate half a bag of crappy snack mix, two handfuls of almonds, some kind of Japanese energy squeezy-thing and followed it up with a recovery shake. Gross.

If this sounds heinous to you and makes you wonder why I do this day after day, you’re getting it. The fact is, anyone who only has good things to say about running either a) runs less than he/she claims or b) is attempting to sell you something. Like fish oil. Or the “only running app you’ll ever need.”

Kneeling on the altar of the Great Truth Machine

The truth of it all: like John L. Parker put it in Once a Runner, running is “all joy and woe.” There are days when everything clicks and output is which despite effort being low, and those are the rare treasures. Everything else is the true substance of running, and it might hurt, but boy it hurts so good. Yesterday was just another reminder of why I love to run. It sucked starting a ten miler understanding that it was going to be a long, slow sufferfest. But man, it was awesome to be out there enjoying the vernal sunlight and to know that the more I hurt today, the stronger I become tomorrow.

I’m interested in what you think – leave a comment with a story about your most heinous/awesome run.

Shoes, Training, and Stuff.

My legs are killing me right now. No kidding, I can barely walk down stairs. This breaks my heart because all I did was take a week off from running to go train here with Rigging for Rescue and the National Park Service Denali climbing rangers:

Moving up towards the Eklutna Glacier for a day of crevasse rescue technique training.

Great training, awesome location, but not a step of running.

With the craziness surrounding the last couple of weeks with Rider, I had to scale back my mileage goals, but up until last week, I was putting some good daily volume into my legs. 16-17 mile days with 10 mile runs as one of the daily doubles. I think I peaked out somewhere in the mid-50s for four to five days of running. I wasn’t sure how a week off would affect me, but I certainly didn’t think I’d be dealing with as much soreness as I am right now. But, it is what it is, and really, what’s a little DOMS between friends?

In other news, I tried out a local running group yesterday: Peak Performers Track Club. We did a pretty short workout: 11 x 200m hills. I hung with a UK expat named Mark and it was nice to run with some company for once, even if the workout wasn’t overly taxing. We started running the hill intervals at about a 6:10 pace but by the last few I pushed it down to 5:15 pace for funsies. Truth be told, it just felt good to stretch the legs a bit and work some turnover. Next week the group moves to a track only about a mile from the house, so I think Jen and I are going to hit it up and see if we both like the track workout scene. “Like” may be a strong word in Jen’s case, but as most of you know, I consider the track home. Hopefully it turns out to be worthwhile, as I think both of us could benefit from a group training environment.

Oh, remember those Brooks Pure Flow I talked a few weeks back? Yeah, starting to like them less and less. I’ve put in between 50-75 miles on them, and some longer runs of 10-12 miles. They are just too damn soft, to the point that I’ve had visions of running in sand. I have a feeling that they are going to end up as solely a pre-track warmup/post track cool down shoe, because anything over 2-3 miles in them is more work than it’s worth. I want to pick up a pair of the NB MR00, but I haven’t yet because I have a pro deal with NB and they aren’t available through the pro deal quite yet. So, I’m stuck with my trusty old MR10s for the time being.

Bubba and I strike poses

In other news, Rider is recovering well, peeing sideways, but not quite out of the woods yet. We’re hopeful for a full recovery over the next couple of months. Writing-wise, I’m still working on the last couple of Tsunami Debris installments, and I’m hoping to put out a Strength for Endurance series sometime in the next month. Stay tuned for that.

Well, I gotta run (literally, to work).

Miles…

 

 

 

 

 

Pumped Up Kicks: Brooks Pure Flow

So this isn’t really a gear review, since I don’t consider the 10 or so miles I’ve logged in my new kicks the requisite amount of mileage to properly review the shoes. However, I thought I’d let you know my initial impressions. Most of you know I’m a big fan of minimalism. I’ve discussed the shoes I wear a couple of times, but you can check out my most “in-depth” post here. My current quiver until Wed of last week consisted of the New Balance MR 10 for the road, the Mizuno Peregrine for the trails and soft surfaces (like nasty mushy spring snow), the Asics Piranha for racing flats, and the Asics Japan spikes for track work. I can remember just five or six years ago, when the choices for minimal running shoes were pretty much limited to racing flats. Everything else was over-engineered, bulky, and just plain ridiculous if you ask me (do you really need a full-sole airbag underfoot when you run?) Fast forward a couple of years, and my, how the tables have turned. If you haven’t picked up the latest Running Times, I highly recommend you do so if you are at all in to minimalism. They also have a new section on the web site dedicated to minimalism. There is a lot of BS and rhetoric out there about minimalism, from ignorant family practitioners who know nothing about exercise phys, to minimalism fascists who push 200+lb individuals into Vibram FiveFingers like it’s a modern panacea. The reality is that the truth is somewhere in the middle, and all completely dependent on the individual and his history, mechanics, and genetics. Everyone has different experiences with minimal shoes, so beware of buying shoes just because Suzy or Johnny Crossfit Level 1 sez they’re the only way to go. Running Times has done a great job of covering minimalism from all viewpoints, and the Spring 2012 Shoe Review is chock full of different options.

One of the shoes reviewed in this issue is the Brooks Pure Flow, which I picked up last week and put through some initial paces. Brooks just put out an entire Pure line of shoes, and of course they put out their advertising spin. I never put much stock in a company’s own reviews or media push, because as always, they are a business first. And a biz needs to make money. But you can check their page out if you at least want to understand their Hyrda-esque development mindset resides.

Anyway, I picked up the Pure Flow last week because the MR10s are going to be ready for recycling in a a few weeks, having logged several hundred miles since last fall. To be precise, the purchase was actually an exchange for a pair of previously purchased studded Salomon Speedcross 3CS. As a general rule, I have a 10 Mile Out Of The Box test, which is to say that I need to be able to put in a 10 miler on new shoes with no issues. If I can’t, the shoe is either over-engineered for me, or just poorly engineered. The Salomons failed me miserably. For me, they were far too rigid, and narrow for my feet and stride. As a result, after only 13 miles, I developed blisters on the knuckles of my little toes, and my feet were killing me. I’m sure they work well for someone else (they better, at around $135 a pop), but they certainly didn’t work for me. So, back to Skinny Raven I went. I emerged an hour later with these bad boys.

Foot swagger.

They are marketed as being mid-range minimal: a low (4mm-ish) heel-toe drop, but more cush than than the Pure Connect lineup. The latter were far too narrow for my feet, much like the old Nike Free 3.0s, which left areas of my sole supported only by a bulging upper (think of a burger patty swelling outside the bun). So, I ended up with the Pure Flow based primarily on fit. The midsole material is the same for all the Pure shoes, Brooks simply chooses to tweak the patterns and outsole areas. Anyway, enough the technical mumbo jumbo. How did they ride?

In a word: Okay. I didn’t have time for a dime on the roads, so I hit the treadmill for some light cruise interval work: 4 x 1M @ 6:00 pace/.5% grade, with 1:00 rest between the miles. The shoes were very comfortable, but my initial impression is that the midsole is too soft for speed work, at least for a 5’11″, 184lb, neutral gait runner (that’s me, in case you were wondering). I hit my splits just fine, but I felt like I was fighting the shoe for speed. It wasn’t nearly as responsive as I like when I’m looking for speed, and I think that’s largely a function of the amount of cushion they put into the shoe. In fact, it reminded me a lot of my old Saucony Kinvara, which were a joke on the track as a result of the mushy ride. Running Times opines it’s an ideal “recovery” shoe, whatever that means, in the latest review and I have to agree at this point. I see this being a good shoe for those day-after or day-of recovery jogs (5-6 miles easy). I’m going to put in some longer runs on the Pure Connect this week and the next, and after about 100 miles on the shoe, I’ll give you my verdict. They feel like they will be fine for longer runs, but the proof is in the pudding. Right now, this shoe is no quiver killer compared to the MR10s, which I have always felt work well for both long runs and faster-paced road work. I’m also planning on picking up the New Balance MR00 today, so expect to hear more on them in the coming week or so.

Until then, compadres, keep logging those miles! Or kilometers, if you happen to be reading this in Euro-land.

Tsunami Debris, Part 4: Sendai and Beyond

Sometime after 0000 hrs, 25 Mar, 1st Class Lounge, Sendai Airport

Home away from home, away from home.

I shiver myself awake in what is becoming an hourly cycle: Fall asleep, get cold, shiver, wake up, check my watch and figure out how much longer this is going to last. I’m wearing every bit of clothing I brought with me, to include huge puffy jacket and pants, but without a sleeping bag, it’s still not enough to keep me warm. I try to remember the thousands hurting for real right now. But all I can do is wish for my sleeping bag or a nice warm bed. It is not a proud moment for me.

Like an apocalypse movie without the zombies.

The morning dawns cold and bright, the occasional ray of sunlight reaching through weather breaks to slightly warm us through the glass of the terminal windows. Thankfully, the guys got a couple boxes of energy drinks, so I crush two, hoping to wake up enough for my upcoming phone interview with Alaska. Last night I was able to check email using a satellite uplink system the guys had set up; it was a little bizarre to sit there in almost blackout conditions, typing away on Yahoo. I was able to arrange for a 0630 (my time) call in to Lt Col Stephens in Anchorage, but hadn’t planned on being quite so tired. I check my phone. Of course I am without my charging cord, and in the cold the battery has been draining precipitously. The bar is yellow, but what that means, I have no idea. 1 minute? 1 hour? Guess we’ll find out. If all else fails, I can use the spotty military line to try and dial in if my phone dies.

The interview goes well, interrupted periodically by some significant aftershocks. I wander around the deserted terminal while I pontificate, finally coming to rest in one of the jetways. Once it’s over, I wonder if the two Red Bulls was a good idea. Hopefully I wasn’t overly verbose.

I spend the rest of the day mostly getting to know the guys and killing time. It’s a small terminal, and what strikes me the most is the intact vendor kiosks, stacked with magazines. When the guys first showed up, they were asked to leave the refreshments alone. But after a few days, the Japanese told them to go ahead and eat what they liked.

There isn’t a whole lot for me to do up here except gain an appreciation for the restoration effort, which I do in spades. But the guys are already grumbling about the precipitous incline in Army and Marine bodies up here. The grunts are doing good work, to be sure, but they have already tried to land grab the lounge for their officers, which did not sit well with the controllers. I end up spending most of my time sitting around trying to stay warm or playing Risk on of the guys’ iPad. I do get a chance to walk around a bit and take some photos, though.

The devastation is all around me, bearing mute testimony to the violence of the tsunami. I recall watching some of the initial Japanese news casting, and one broadcast of Minami-Sanriku is burned into my thoughts. The TV helicopter is flying overhead, filling the office television with utter devastation. In the background you hear the newscaster speaking in Japanese, and the translation comes shortly after:

“Where are all the people. There is no sign of life. We hope they evacuated in time.”

As I look around, I ask the same question. But I fear I already know the answer.

26 Mar, Yokota Air Base

After spending another cold night and day at Sendai, I’m back at Yokota. Sendai changed remarkably even in the little time I spent there. By the time I left, a couple of media crews from across the globe flew in to conduct stories. Close to a few hundred more Marines and Army soldiers showed up to  push the airport cleanup, and the first C-17 landed once the airstrip was cleared of enough debris. I caught a ride back on an Australian C-17 with a couple of the STS PJs, who’d run out of work and pushed back to Yokota by Maj Traxler. Traxler, or “TX” as I came to know him, never let up in just the short amount of time I spent with him. He rarely stopped moving for more than 15 minutes, and then it was usually to find something to eat or get on the phone and argue with higher headquarters. His energy and passion for what they are doing up in Sendai blows me away. He called their work there the truest Combat Control mission he’s ever participated; opening and running an airfield to him is at the heart of the mission. This is the second time in a year Controllers have run airfields in the name of humanitarian efforts – the first was in Haiti following the massive quake there. Their work there led to a Combat Controller being named by Time as one of the 100 most influential people of the year in 2010.

When I return, I find an unintended benefit of spending time with the STS. The PJs I return with are able to finagle with Billetting, and find me a room in the Visiting Officer Quarters. So, they help me grab my stuff from the slum-tower, and I move into a comfy room with TV and internet. Granted, I’m on a cot on the floor and sharing the room with a C-130 pilot, but it’s now close enough to work that I can walk back and forth as opposed to having to catch shuttles. The gym and chow hall are also within walking distance now.

When I get to the room, I square my gear away as much as possible in the space allotted, take a long hot shower, and collapse into my rack.