Trail Running 101: How Not to Trail Run

I've been hitting the trails my whole life and running for over 35 years, and running trails for over 30 years. I've gained a lot of experience over the years and I pretty well qualify as above average when it comes not just to running, but to running trails. There isn't much I haven't encountered or dealt with, yet I recently received a reminder that I'm not perfect.

A friend of mine recently completed his first Ironman (140.6, the real deal) and is looking for his next challenge. This summer he also read Scott Jureck's book "Eat to Run", and he is now looking to do his first ultra with a long range goal of running a 100+ mile ultra some day. He knows I've done three 50k's and am looking to do a 50 mile within the next year. So, he invited me along when he planned to do his first 50k. Unfortunately the race was already closed, but undeterred he decided we should just do a 30 mile trail run in its stead. I agreed and less than two weeks later we inked in to run.

He got online and started looking at a trail and figuring out logistics. He quickly decided on the Appalachian Trail and found a place where we could start which would have us hitting a gas station 5 miles later, and a place to park his car with supplies 5 miles beyond that. The plan was to drop off his car and take my truck back to start point. We were to run 15 miles out (15.6 actually, he wanted 50k) and then turn back. With the gas station and his car we would have "aid stations" at 5, 10, 20, and 25 mile marks. Everything sounded perfect, except one teeny, tiny, thing. Neither one of us had ever seen the section of trail we were going to run.

Morning of the run came and he drove over to my house. I then followed him through the narrow, winding mountain roads to where we were going to drop his car. It was still dark and we didn't know exact spot where trail intersected road. After driving a while and knowing that we were getting close we found the spot where a trail hit the road and parked his car. I dropped off my supplies in his car, conferred with him about what he had and then we headed to out start area. By the time we got to our start point it was light enough for us to begin, so we geared up and set out.

I have to admit, that despite his having a fairly well thought out plan and course I did have some apprehensions. The first and foremost was the terrain that we would face. I didn't care about the ascents and descents, I knew they'd be there and they'd be long and steep, I was concerned about the trail itself. I had some fear that trail could be so rocky that running could be virtually impossible. In addition, we had a lot of rain recently, and who knows what that could have done to the trails.

Anyway, after putting on our camelbacks, off we went. We had about 100 yards on the road until we hit the trail, and were quickly there. Unfortunately, one of my fears was already showing its ugly head. The trail was immediately too rocky to run. The trail was nothing but rocks, some loose, some not, some suspect, but not runable. In all fairness, it was also a very steep climb that we may have walked anyway to save our legs for the run ahead. We slogged our way to the top, and got some sketchy, but runable trail and took off.

Back in the early spring I started developing some problems with my right hip. I went through bouts of better and worse through the rest of the spring, all of the summer and into the start of the fall. I was starting to feel better, but going into the run I was concerned it may not hold up, and within first mile I found out that it wouldn't. Our first downhill I slipped and came down hard on the heel of that same leg. I immediately felt a sharp, searing pain in my hip, and quickly lost strength in that hip. I could run, with little pain, but I wasn't able to lift knee of that leg as high, and that would quickly prove a problem.

The trail continued to be very rocky, and impossible to run in many places. It got to the point where we were desperate to run and we were running every possible opportunity. Unfortunately, since I was having trouble lifting my right leg, I was catching more and more rocks and roots with my toes and aggravating the hip further. I could have turned back, but I'm not that smart and it goes against my deepest beliefs, keep running until you can't.

After over an hour of running we reached the gas station that marked the five mile point in the run. We stopped for a few minutes while Doug (Jr as I refer to him) got something to eat. We both grabbed a quick drink as well and continued on.

The trail didn’t get any easier, and if anything actually got harder. The footing was horrible and we had some pretty steep ascents and descents. It resulted in us doing a lot of walking and slow jogging, but when we hit a decent stretch of trail Jr would take off. I did my best to hold on to him during those stretches. For the most part I was holding close to him, but it got harder and harder to do with each passing mile. I found myself focusing on just making it to the 10 mile mark and his car. I wasn’t going to quit, but I couldn’t look any further ahead than that point, or I would start the negative downward spiral mentally.

Almost two hours after leaving the gas station we finally reached the road where Jr had parked his car. Unfortunately, the trail didn’t cross the road where we thought it did, but it was close enough. We only had about 100 yards on the road to get to his car, where we pulled out our stash of food and drink. While refueling we discussed how long it had taken for us to reach that point, how far we had left to go, and terrain that we would most likely encounter. We quickly came to realization that instead of the 6-7 hour run we had thought we were going to do, that it was more likely going to be well over 10 hours. This was more time than either of us really wanted to put into the run, and to my relief, Jr agreed that we should turn back.

A few more minutes of rest, food, drink and foam roller and we started back the way we came. I had tightened up pretty good during that stop and really started to struggle to keep up. Jr was running strong, and now that he knew we weren’t going 30 miles, but rather only 20 miles which he’d done before (though not on trails), he started pushing the pace. I was struggling to lift my right foot enough to clear the rocks and roots so I wouldn’t trip or injure him further. As a result, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been on where I was stepping with my left foot. I was only concerned with getting enough lift with my right.

About 2 ½- 3 miles into the return I paid the price for my inattention to my footing. As I was swinging my left leg through I smashed my pinky toe into a large rock, and the momentum of my foot and leg kept them traveling forward. Unfortunately my pinky toe remained with the rock (remember, I wear Vibram Five Fingers). The toe was forcefully ripped to the side and I felt an immediate sharp burning pain sear through my foot. I’ve stubbed many a toe over the years, and some of them very hard, but I knew instantly that this wasn’t a stub. It was broken. Plain and simple, there was no doubt in my mind, I broke my toe.

Despite the quick eruption of pain in my left foot, and the shout of pain that escaped me, I kept running. Jr heard me, glanced back, saw that I was still running and so he continued on not knowing what I just did. We still had over 7 – 7 ½ miles left to get back to my truck. I could have stopped and turned back for Jr’s car, but we had already shortened the run, I didn’t want to totally kill it for him, so I kept running.

The rest of the run was just a painful blur. I could no longer push off on my left foot, and could lift my right. This resulted in me catching my right foot more and more often on roots and rocks. Each time that I did so, the hip got a little bit worse. And, because of how rocky the trail was, I kept banging and catching my broken toe on other roots and rocks, most of which with healthy toe wouldn’t have been that bad, but were now causing me a good deal of pain. After what seemed an eternity to me, we reached the gas station again, which meant only 5 remaining miles to run.

We both got something to eat and drink while we were at the gas station. Jr inquired about my hip, and I told him it hurt, but I’d make it. I decided not to tell him about the toe just yet. I didn’t want him to try getting me to stay at the gas station while he went for truck, or to cause him to quit the run. It is just a pinky toe after all, and though it was painful, and I could tell very swollen, it wasn’t going to kill me. I’d been struggling to keep within visual range of him on the good sections of trail, and was taking some risks to try and catch back up on the bad, but I thought I could make the remaining distance without slowing him too much. So when he was ready to run again, so was I.

Not really much to say about the remaining 5 miles beyond that it got harder and harder for me and I kept falling further and further back. He started waiting for me at start of each of the bad sections and once I caught up, he’d start off again. Finally, with about 1 ½ miles left I confessed what had happened to my toe after he’d had a lengthy wait for me to catch up to him. I told him to go ahead and I’d be along as soon after him as I could. He refused to go and kept waiting for me, and so we very slowly covered the remaining distance. When we got back to road that my truck was parked on, he smoothly accelerated down the road the short distance to the truck. I was able to run a slow hobble behind him.

On the day mistakes were made, but things were also done right. It is always good to either scout the trail you plan to run, or get a good description from someone who knows. You can head into it blind, but may find yourself doing very little running as we did. Also, I probably shouldn't have attmepted anything like that until I knew my hip was fully recovered and healed. Trail running is much more strenuous than running on roads. However, we were smart enough to run with a partner in case something happened. Jr had done an excellent job of figuring out logistics for keeping us fueled and hydrated. We had our cell phones with us, and we were smart enough to turn back (well, at least Jr was) when we knew trail was going to be too much for us to do the distance we had planned.

After the run, instead of letting me lick my wounds, my wife had me out digging a new garden. Pinky toe and hip aren't that important...

Oh, and thanks to Doug, aka Jr, whose pictures I stole for the post...

Help Promote National Athletic Training Month

As a way to help promote and celebrate National Athletic Training Month, those of you with twitter accounts and a couple free minutes around 1pm (eastern) tomorrow, I’d love some help: Please spread the word and tweet away:
District 4 NATA member Travis Gallagher, ATC, urges athletic trainers across the country to tweet about the profession on specified dates and times (see schedule below). By coordinating efforts, NATA members can make athletic training a trending topic, which will then be promoted to all in the Twitter universe. Athletic trainers and their friends, family, former athletes and followers should tweet and retweet as many times as they can at the designated dates/times using the hashtags listed below:
Thursday, March 15, 2012: #ATaccomplishments #NATM Tweet at 1 p.m. eastern, 12 p.m. central, 11 a.m. mountain and 10 a.m. pacific Examples:
-Hearing reporters use the proper “athletic trainer” terminology when giving injury updates #ATaccomplishments #NATM -ATs taking it upon themselves to get recognition through social media #ATaccomplishments #NATM -AEDs in every school #ATaccomplishments #NATM
Thursday, March 29, 2012: #ATFavoriteMoments #NATM Tweet at 1 p.m. eastern, 12 p.m. central, 11 a.m. mountain and 10 a.m. pacific Examples:
-Watching my ACL athlete return and contribute to a championship! #ATFavoriteMoments #NATM -Passing my National @BOCATC exam #ATFavoriteMoments #NATM -Having “Athletic Trainer” trend on @Twitter #ATFavoriteMoments #NATM
Help spread the word by emailing, posting and tweeting about these upcoming events. Ask your co-workers, colleagues, friends, family, students and athletes to be participate to ensure a successful project. Thank you!

March is National Athletic Training Month

Athletic trainers save lives

Sports injuries can be serious. Brain and spinal cord injuries and conditions such as heat illness can be life threatening if not recognized and properly handled. ATs are there to treat acute injuries on the spot. Athletes have chronic illnesses, too. People with diabetes and asthma can and do safely work and exercise, and the athletic trainer can help manage these critical health issues as they relate to physical exertion.

Not all athletes wear jerseys

There’s an emphasis on physical activity in America and with the graying of the population, there is an increased incidence of injuries. Boomers have been and will be physically active well into their senior years. Athletic trainers work with the recreational and professional athlete. Many jobs are physically demanding. The duties of a baggage handler, dancer or soldier all require range of motion and strength and stamina, and hold the potential for musculoskeletal injuries.

Athletic trainers are experts

Working to prevent and treat musculoskeletal injuries and sports-related illnesses, athletic trainers offer a continuum of care unparalleled in health care. ATs are part of a team of health care professionals – they practice under the direction and in collaboration with physicians. ATs are specialists; they work with physically active people to prevent and treat injuries and conditions. ATs aren’t personal trainers, who focus solely on fitness, conditioning and performance enhancement. ATs are health care professionals.

The athletic trainer is the health care system for athletes and others

Athletic trainers are on-site. They work with patients to avoid injuries; they’re there when injuries happen and they provide immediate care; and they rehabilitate patients after injuries or surgery. It’s a continuum of care. Athletic trainers come to the patient, not the other way around. They know their patients well because they are at the school, in the theater or on the factory floor every day.

Athletic trainers take responsibility and lower risk

School administrators, athletics directors and coaches have their own jobs, which may pose a conflict of interest with athlete safety; they are not experts in managing injuries or sports-related illnesses, nor should they be responsible to do so. Handling injuries at school or at work, rather than sending the patient to the emergency department, saves money and time loss – and gets them back on their feet faster. Just as professional athletes do, recreational athletes should have access to professional athletic trainers.

(all of the above taken from NATA PR packet)
http://www.nata.org/sites/default/files/NATA_e-card_2012.pdf
http://www.nata.org/sites/default/files/NATM-2011-AT-Not-Trainer.pdf

The Push to the Edge

This summer I stumbled across a long lost friend, a partner, a tool. It had been many years since we'd last raced together and sadly I didn't even know it.
Years ago when I first started running I quickly established myself as a front runner. I always raced better during track and cross country season then I did on my own during the summer, but either way I was a threat. During the summer I always placed top 3 in my age group and during cross country and track season if awards were given, I was usually one of the recipients.
It didn't take long for me to figure out though that I ran better with a team
than I did when running solo. And the more the team needed me, the better I
did.
Another thing I quickly learned was that the worse I felt, the better I did.
Heaven help the opponents if on a day I didn't feel well or was hurt that the
team really needed me to step it up because I was guaranteed to blast one out.
I was the go to guy on race day and the more my team needed, the more I gave.
I went on to run college cross country for a couple of years after high school.
I started out my first season with a big bang, winning my first race. My team
needed me and I came through. We won the meet, barely, and against the one
school's second team, but it was our first victory. And our last...
The following week in a much bigger meet pulled off a top 10 finish to lead my
team to dead last. The next week I dropped to top 20 and we again finished dead
last. My finish place declined steadily thereafter.
My second, and final, college season didn't fare any better. I never placed and
until the final meet of year we placed dead last. That last meet we achieved
our teams lofty goal of beating someone, anyone, and finished second to last.
My team didn’t really need me and I was fine with just running, but not
actually racing.
I continued running and racing for many years after that. Often doing well in
smaller local races and always finishing in a respectable time, but never quite
getting back on top of things. A few years ago I added triathlons to my race
schedule with similar results. I was finishing run and tri in top 30% but not
really being competitive. I was running hard, training hard, but falling short.
I was good, but just not good enough.
Last season a friend, much younger than me got into triathlons and I sort of
became his mentor. Shortly thereafter a coworker did the same and we became
friends as well and now I had two 'mentees'. They both showed promise and did
well in their first seasons. Both were faster than me for very short distances,
but lacked strength and experience to challenge me so far in an actual race.
At the beginning of the season the youngest and newest of my mentees, Jason, convinced
me and the other mentee, Doug, to do a sprint tri to kick off the season. I
reluctantly signed up. I've known for years my strength is in distance, and
avoid most shorter races, but decided it would be fun to go 'head to head' with
them.
Race day came and I found myself starting a couple of waves in front of both of
them. Part of me had planned to take it easy and have fun, but once I knew they
would be behind me trying to catch that all changed. I was all business by race
start and pushed myself through water with everything I had. As I exited the
water I pounded across the grass to transition and I was quickly out on the
bike. Once I got on the road I just hammered away on the pedals and it seemed
like I was back in transition in no time. I flew out of T2 and speed around the
run course and before I knew it I was across the finish.
I knew that I had a good race and thought that a possible age group award might
be coming. What surprised me was that I finished 3rd overall and managed a 6:28
pace on the run. I hadn't run that fast in years for any distance, much less at the end of a triathlon. I was thrilled, evidently I was finally doing something right, because I was getting faster again.
The following week I had two more tri's, an olympic on Saturday and a 1/2 iron on Sunday. I went into the season with high hopes that I was going to have breakout races. Saturday I PR'd but not by as much as I had expected and Sundays race was solid, but nothing to get excited about.
I was puzzled as to what happened. Yes they were longer races, but some of my
new speed should still have carried over. I pondered this for a couple of weeks
while I tried tweaking my training in an attempt to figure out why I had done
so well one week and then just ok the next.
About two weeks later I read a blog post written by a friend, Ann B, about underachieving. Something clicked on and I suddenly had a neon bulb shining on things. In high school and college I stepped up my game and pushed with all I had to help the team. Since then it was just for me and that extra push, just faded away. I still ran hard but not as hard. I pushed through pain, fatigue, cramps and more, but I hadn't really been pushing myself to the breaking point. I was willing to go there for the team, but had ceased doing it for myself.
Until the sprint triathlon that is. Something about being beaten by younger and
faster friends brought it back out and I pushed to the red zone and slightly
beyond. I have more experience than either of my friends and currently I'm a
much stronger runner and cyclist, but I know they are faster than me. They may
not be able to hold the speed for long but I really thought they had enough to
beat me at a sprint and I just wasn't ready to let that happen. As a result I
pushed through the pain, hit a point where I thought I was all out and pushed
beyond it and had a break out race. The following week I hit that same point,
but didn't try to push through, I thought I was at the limit, but wasn't.
The rest of the summer I had hits and misses with my performances. I pushed
through that extra barrier several times, but not consistently and didn't
always hold it, but I was relearning. My final Tri of the year, a couple of
weeks ago, I found that push again on the run and it carried me to a 5 minute
run PR.
Despite finding that extra push and now knowing it is there, I still can't tap
into it regularly. I can still run/ride/swim long and hard and push through the
comfort zone and well into the pain, but I'm not finding that extra push that
takes me into the red zone as often as I would like. Maybe part of me realizes
the danger of it more than I did when I was younger. It is a point beyond pain
where you know you are teetering on the edge of crash and burn and possible
injury, but you ride it as long as a hard as you can. Experience helps keep you
riding that razors edge without plummeting over it, but it also takes
experience and a lack of fear or care about what may happen if you push too
hard to get there.
Pushing to the edge helped me tremendously back in high school, but it was also my downfall back then too. It took me to many wins and high placings in many races, but I went over it several times as well. I lost half of my sophomore cross country season with
injury from pushing over the edge, and 2/3 of the track season that year for another injury. Junior year I managed to walk the edge without a slip, but my senior year I pushed so far over I fell into the abyss. The summer leading into my senior year I pushed it to the edge and held it. I held it through most of the season. I was on a mission. Our team had a goal of placing at the state championships and possible getting the school’s first ever win there.
That senior season I PR’d week after week, and we won meet after meet. There was only one meet we didn’t win during the regular season. We then went on to win our conference, sectional championship, regional championship, and the school’s first ever semi-state
championship. Unfortunately, I rode that edge too long and at regionals I felt myself sliding over, and by semi-state I went into a free fall. I still raced well in those races, but I knew I was in trouble. The legs were pure rubber and I couldn’t get them back. At the state championship, not only did we not win, and not place, we were 15^th out 16 and I was one of the last 10 finishers.
Yeah, it takes a team to win, but an individual can bring them down. After two years of being one of the main team leaders, I had nothing in me. Unfortunately, my team mates instead of passing me as they should, most of them ended up grouped with me. A mental block made it hard for them to pass the guy that had been leading them. I yelled and
encouraged and finally with ¾ of a mile to go literally grabbed one of them and
shoved him in front of me and pushed him away. Finally trance broke and the all
took off and left me. It was over 2 months before I got my legs back and could
run with any speed or strength. The loss that day was not purely mine, and I
know it now, but it was a tough price for a great season.
Pushing yourself to the edge is what defines a true competitor. There is a big risk with each race, but a potential big payoff as well. My mind set has difficulty accepting that pro athlete that will drop out of a race, just because they are not among the leaders, but part of me knows that they do it so they aren’t risking that fall over the edge for nothing and that they will be ready for the next challenge.
For me the difference between a jogger and a runner is motive and how much they push, not the pace they actually run. Joggers run up to the edge of comfort and no further. Runners push into the pain and go with it. A competitor will push a bit farther and risk injury or DNF to try and get the win.
I used to know that razors edge well and I miss it. I've raced very well over the years despite losing it, but I'm getting hungry for more. Thanks to Jason and Doug pushing me
and Ann for switching on the light, I think I'm on my way to regaining it. I will never win anymore championships, but this old body still has some big races left in it and I mean to find them. I’m ready to take the risk again.

The Hill Not Taken

I've been a strong runner for years and more importantly a strong
hill runner. Friends, coworkers and other runners have often asked how I became
so good at running hills and what can they do become better at them. There are
many answers to the second part of the question, but the answer to the first
goes back many years.
I started running competitively in 7th grade. I had wanted to go
out for football when I got to middle school, but due to my size my parents
wouldn't let me. The previous spring I had done really well at our school's
field day in the mile run, so I decided to try cross country instead and fell
in love with running.
The two years I ran in middle I worked hard, did what coach asked,
but no more. All of my team mates avoided hills whenever possible and I
followed suit. Hills sucked! I hated them! They hurt and just weren't fun to
run. Some of the race courses we ran had them, but why run hills repeatedly
when you may only see one hill in a race. So, unless we had to run them in
practice, we didn't run them.
I carried this philosophy with me to high school and quickly
learned that it was shared by my new team mates. We'd run the hills that coach
made us run, but when we were just given a set time to run, we always avoided
them, which, considering I grew up in northern Indiana, was very easy to do.
I began my 9th grade season on the freshmen team but quickly moved
up to the junior varsity (JV) team. At certain big meets where they had a
freshmen team race, I would drop back down so we could try to win it. One of
the races I did this for was the New Prairie Invitational.
A week before the New Prairie Invitational the upper classmen
started talking about Agony Hill. Supposedly there was this monster hill on the
course that humbled seniors and ate freshmen alive. The closer we got to the
meet, the more they talked about it, until we went to sleep dreaming about it.
I didn't take them too seriously, these were the same guys that took us out
snipe hunting at cross country camp almost two months ago, so I took what they
told us with a grain of salt. I was convinced this was just another part of the
initiation.
Race morning we pulled up to the school in our bus. I was glued to
the windows with the rest of the freshmen looking for the monster hill. But no
hill was to be seen anywhere. The area around the school was flat farmland, the
school property was flat and the small woods adjacent to it showed no
indication of hiding a hill in it. The trees weren't tall enough and showed no
increase in height anywhere. We knew we had been suckered.
We got off the bus and did our warm up around the school property.
We found one small "hill" that took all of 2-3 strides to get up and
joked around about it being Agony Hill. We started joking around as all fear
left us. After running we stretched and got ready to race.
We lined up to start the race with 16 other teams, each team
allowed to have 2 people on the actual line and the rest behind. We had about
100 yards before a sharp right turn so it was very important to get out fast.
The gun went off and I took off like a shot. I was one of the first
10 to reach the turn and found myself in great position. The whole first mile
was on flat, hard grass. We did have that one "hill" to run up with
that we joked about, but it didn't slow things any. I don't remember that mile
split, but to give you an idea how fast that course was through the first mile,
as a senior I was in lead group of 8 that went through the mile mark in 4:45.
We weren't that fast, but we were moving quickly.
About 100 yards after the first mile mark we went into the woods
and started to run slightly down hill on the trail to a dried up creek bed. The
next 1/2 mile wound along that creek bed which had a sandy bottom, making
running difficult. The banks were kind of steep so it was hard to run on them
and you were pretty much forced into the sand. However, the sand was not my
main concern. I was starting to get very worried because, even though very
gradual, we were still going downhill. Distance can be deceiving in the woods,
but I was pretty sure that we'd been going downhill for quite a while and I was
starting to think maybe the upper classmen hadn't been joking after all.
Sure enough, we made a turn and there it was, Agony Hill. It
looked more like a dirt wall than a hill. This thing went almost straight up
and it was a solid distance to the top. I hit the thing at full speed and was
instantly slowed to less than walking speed. Some the runners in front of and
behind me were using their hands to help claw their way up and I quickly joined
in.
It seemed like an eternity before I finally reached the top. I
crested Agony Hill and knew I was done. There was still over a mile to go and
my legs were cashed in and gone. I staggered on and just focused on keeping my
feet moving and nothing more. After what seemed like an eternity I crossed the
finish line. I had been beaten. Not just by other runners, but by Agony Hill.
It was my master.
It was a long ride home after the race. I had been humbled and was
embarrassed by my performance. But a new runner emerged during that bus ride.
By the time we pulled into our school's parking lot I had resolved to never,
ever, let a hill do that to me. I didn't know how I was going to beat Agony
Hill, only that I would do it.
From then on, any time I got a chance to run a hill, I would. My
team mates would get upset with me, but I became obsessed with them and any
time I could I would steer runs toward them. This wasn't easy to do either,
there really were very few hills in the area, but I soon knew them all. I would
run them on weekends, and breaks. I would do loop after loop after loop over
them. I still hated running them, they still hurt, but I was determined to
master them.
By the end of the following summer I was looking forward to my
rematch with Agony Hill. Race day couldn't come soon enough. Unfortunately, one
week before the meet my season came to an end with an injury. I would travel to
New Prairie with the team, but instead of facing Agony Hill I would be taking
times and cheering from my crutches. The hill seemed to laugh at me that day,
knowing I would not beat it again that year.
Over the course of the next year I ran hills even harder and went
into my third match up with Agony Hill confident I was going to be the better. I
looked forward to every race, and put my all into each one. But the one I
looked forward to most wasn’t until midseason. When the day of the New Prairie
Invitational finally arrived I was ready. As I had two years previous, I again charged
onto Agony Hill and again it showed its might. But, this time when I crested it
I still had something left in my legs and was actually able to run on. I still
slowed tremendously, but I was definitely running strong. The win that year was
mine, but it was like Rocky beating Apollo, it was only because I got back on
my feet first. I still had work to do.
After another year of hard work my senior year came and the final
match up with Agony Hill with it. I already mentioned how the first mile went.
I finished the 5k course in about 16:23, a PR, and more importantly, when I
crested Agony Hill I took off and hammered the last part of the race. I crushed
it. Agony Hill was mine.
Beating Agony Hill was great, but the real victory occurred
somewhere along the way to get to that point. I don't know when it happened,
but it did, and that's all that matters. Somewhere I lost my fear of hills, I
didn't dread them anymore. I enjoyed running them and they became my friends.
They still hurt, but it was a good hurt that I welcomed. Running hills will
never be easy, it is just like running the 100 meter dash all out. If you are
really, truly pushing as hard as you can, it will hurt, it's just the better
trained you are the less it hurts and the quicker the hurt fades away. Same
with running a marathon. I will never say running hills is easy, but if easy
was what I wanted I wouldn't be an athlete to begin with.
This same philosophy and love of hills that I got from running has
carried over to cycling as well. I go at hills on my bike the same way I do
when running. I challenge every hill I see and grind it out in the biggest
gears I can. Both when riding and running, if I come to an intersection and I'm
unsure which way to go, I always take the one that looks like it goes up the
most.
When I asked my recommendations for getting better at running
hills it is simple, run them. Run them often, run them hard, don't fear them,
embrace and respect them, but strong. Since my freshman year at the New Prairie
Invitational I have run every hill possible, there hasn't been a single hill
not taken, and that has made all the difference.

National Athletic Training Month: Not all athletes wear jerseys

This March, as every March for last several years, the National Athletic Trainers Association and it's member try to raise awareness of our profession and what we do. Please take a moment to check us out:

http://www.nata.org/sites/default/files/NATM-2011-ecard.pdf

http://www.nata.org/sites/default/files/NATM-2011-AT-Not-Trainer.pdf

http://www.nata.org/athletic-training

Thank you and have a healthy and safe month of training!

They're Just Shoes...

They're just shoes: minimalist shoes, barefoot shoes, toe shoes, gorilla feet, whatever, they're still just shoes. For something so simple they've taken me on a wild journey over the last 14 months. It was a journey that truly started about 2 months prior to my first sticking toes in them. They transformed me as a runner, an athlete, an athletic trainer, a biomechanist and just as a person in general.

The journey started with a simple discussion on twitter where I was talking about the benefits of orthotics and another person argued that they were actually bad for you. His argument claimed the muscles of the feet, if

 allowed to strengthen naturally would better do the job. We went back and forth, citing sources and examples, neither giving in. But the wheels in mind had started to turn.

I started nosing around on the internet and then read the book “Born to Run” that had been recommended to me by same person who had put me on this path. The more I read, the more I researched, the more I believed. Soon, I was ready to give “barefoot” running a try myself.

I started with a couple short runs barefoot around the grass athletic fields at the school I work for. I loved it! I loved the feel of the grass on my feet, the freedom of my toes, and even loved the acorns I stepped on, despite the pain from the last. I was hooked and couldn’t wait to get my first pair of Vibrams and hit the road with them.

By the end of August, 2009, I had purchased a couple pairs of Vibrams, one pair of Sprints and one pair of

 KSO’s. I started with a couple cautious, short runs, which caused some soreness in my Achilles and feet, but felt good enough I pushed for more.

This turned out to be a wrong choice and I found myself suffering back to back foot injuries from pushing too hard, too fast. My feet swelled and I could barely walk. Things had gone terribly wrong, but I was still convinced this was the right path.

I temporarily gave up running in Vibrams and gave my feet a chance to fully heal. I was wearing the Vibrams daily, just wasn’t running in them. After about three weeks of running healthily in running shoes I started back into the Vibrams. This time I was going to be very slow about it and build gradually. No more than two runs a week and no more than three miles. I was determined to stick to this plan until ALL discomfort running in them fully dissipated.

Somewhere in the following weeks I found the correct form, my feet and lower legs the strength they needed and things took off. The distances started growing and I was running in nothing but my Vibrams. I was soon up to 8 miles, 10 miles, 13 miles, 15miles... My legs and feet felt great.

I started racing in them. First a 25k, then a slight step back to a half marathon, then a full. Tri season hit and I wore them for a sprint, an olympic, a half iron and finally for Ironman.

There was no looking back, I was hooked and I hadn't felt this good in years. My running form had transformed. It wasn't fully ingrained in me but it was getting there. When fatigued or running on soft surfaces I found that if I didn't pay attention I would revert to a heel strike, but this was happening less and less.

Everything I thought I'd learned over the years about correct running mechanics had proven wrong or at least not fully developed. My approach to working with my athletes has changed. This has opened up new avenues for injury rehab and prevention. I'm not counselling my athletes out of shoes, but I'm adjusting their mechanics to correct for problems they are having. I'm having greater success with treating and rehabilitating shin splints, ankle instability, lower leg muscle tightness and more. My running is improving again and I feel rejuevenated and I look at running and runners in a different light. My custom orthotics and heavy motion control running shoes are gone. I no longer fit in any of my old shoes and I even had to move a size up in the Vibrams when I purchased new ones last week, the muscles in my feet have developed that much.

They may be just shoes, but they have made all the difference...

An Arubian Misstep

I came out of the Celebrate Life Half Marathon back in March feeling pretty good about my progress in running in Vibram Five Fingers. Even though I ran the race slower than what I'd hoped to, I felt that I was getting better at running downhills in my VFFs. Besides, it wasn't due to my choice in foot wear that caused the slower time, it was a combination of training and a GI issue during race that resulted in an unplanned pit stop that were to blame.


My feet felt great during and after the race and I was starting to feel a little cocky about it. I had a great week of running following the CLHM. I didn't do a lot mileage but the runs were good quality. That next Saturday I flew to Aruba for spring break.

Arrived in Aruba Saturday afternoon. I was very fatigued and it was very hot so elected not to run that day. The next morning I woke up bright and early and set off on a 7 mile run. I quickly got absorbed in the scenery and weather and hardly even noticed that I was running. I had been a bit concerned how well my feet would do in VFFs running on hot pavement, but I didn't even notice. This was literally a run in heaven.

On the second morning I again woke early and headed out for a run. It was another absolutely perfect day. Weather was fantastic, sun was glistening off of the beautiful blue water, there was scent of sea air and tropical flowers in the air and life was good.

About 1 1/4 miles into the run I was running along looking out at the sea. Because of an oncoming car I moved to the side of the road and was about to move into the dirt beside it when I felt a sharp pain lance through my right foot. It took a couple hopping steps to come a complete stop, each one, despite barely putting pressure on that foot, hurt more than the last.

It took a few moments to figure out what had happened. I finally realized that I made a cardinal sin of running, I'd stopped watching my footing. As a result when I attempted to leave the road I didn't get a good placement on my foot and stepped with only outer edge on pavement and the rest came down on dirt. To make it worse the dirt wasn't flush with the pavement, there was about 2 inch drop in that particular spot.

I hobbled around for a moment trying to decide how serious it was. The initial piercing pain subsided somewhat, but it was still pretty high on the pain chart. I debated with myself whether to keep going, turn back, turn back and walk or to try and hitch a ride. The last option being quickly dropped. After a couple minutes I decided to try and slowly continue on. I'd been able to run through most of my injuries and now that I'd learned how to correctly run in VFFs I figured I could continue without making things worse.

After about 200 yards I was able to limp under a 10 minute pace, but could go no faster. The pain had just become a steady, throbbing ache, the sharpness had gone. I continued on for a little over another mile before giving up. I had hoped the pain would go away or at least become very faint, but it wasn't. I was still limping and realized I was just going to injure something else if I kept it up, so I turned to head back to the hotel.

The 2 1/4 miles back were less then fun. I could no longer appreciate the paradise I was running in and had to focus instead on running as correctly as I could. After what felt to be an eternity I finally found my self in the hotel parking lot. I went up to my room, grabbed the ice bucket, filled it and spent the next 25 minutes trying to numb my foot. Fortunately I had cold beer close at hand.

I struggled to walk the rest of the day and all of the next. I tried to run again 2 days later, but barely managed 2 1/2 miles at a very slow pace. The flowing day it was a painful 4 miles, the next 3, and the final day I was there an uncomfortable 4 1/2 miles. One careless moment of being too wrapped up in looking around me instead of where I was going cost me a great week of running in a virtual Garden of Eden. I still got some miles in, but they weren't enjoyable and my foot affected the quality of everything else I did while I was there.

I still had a great time while I was there but was disappointed with myself for having made such a simple stupid mistake. However, I'm still alive, I've had worse and there was no permanent damage. Lesson learned, enjoy your surrounding, but always watch your step.

Red Means Injured Triathlete

As endurance athletes we've all been injured at some point. You can't take a car out on the highway and just hold the accelerator to floor forever without blowing your engine, and as athletes we're red lining it on a regular basis. We push ourselves in training and races and eventually something breaks.
It is hard enough to deal with the injury and recovery as it is, but it is even worse while we are working out and our pace and distance are much less than our norm. It is easy to feel self-conscious and wish that others knew that we're really better than this.
I know I've been self-conscious about this many times, whether from injury or post event (marathon, ironman, etc) soreness and have heard many others lament about it as well. For over a year now I've been on Twitter and it is almost a regular occurrence that I will hear someone complain about it, occasionally even to point of wishing they had a shirt they could buy that would say "hey, I'm injured! I'm really not this slow". Usually I just sympathize with them.
Today was different. I saw @trifunster making a similar statement about being injured and wishing she had a shirt. Don't know why I did it or where idea came from but I jokingly suggested she wear a red shirt. I mentioned that injured college athletes who are out for season are red shirted (yes, I know freshman who aren't going to play are as well) and so wearing a red shirt would say "hey, I'm injured" in a way maybe some would understand.
Her response was positive and she seemed to like the idea enough to the point of retweeting the idea and creating a Twitter hash tag #redmeansinjuredtriathlete. This caused me to pause and really think about it. The more I thought the more the idea made sense and the more I liked it. The color red was a bit arbitrary, but to tell someone you were red shirting there was a possibility they would catch on quicker because of college sports. Red is also common enough most athletes would have at least one shirt/jersey/singlet, but not so common that you see the majority of athletes wearing it. Yeah, there are going to be non-injured athletes wearing red, but there are non-injured college freshman that are red shirted. It would defeat the purpose to pick a color so obscure no one had it and they would have hunt to find one, they may as well just print up a t-shirt. So red it is.
Ideally it would be a red shirt, but high school and college athletes that are required to wear a uniform and are racing for conditioning and experience purposes could sub in a red headband, hat, socks, shoelaces and more. But that is another discussion.
The more I thought about all of this, the more I liked it. My excitement lead me to don a red shirt for my run today. I'm two days post-marathon, and though I am not doing the Frankenstein monster walk and actually walking normal, my legs are not able to run like I'm used to. I ran 4 miles yesterday and every time saw someone I felt slightly embarrassed about my slow amble. Today I ran same distance, same course and only very slightly faster. However, even though only two of us knew of this idea, I felt more comfortable and confident and enjoyed the run in a way I wasn't able to yesterday. Maybe this was from feeling good about my idea, but I really feel it was because my shirt was clearly stating "hey, I just ran a marathon, I'm red shirting this week!"
Next time you can't run/ride/swim up to your normal level due to injury, give it a try. If you like it, share the idea and spread the word. Hey, #RedMeansInjuredTriathlete!

Addendum:Shortly after posting this I received a tweet that basically stated that I shouldn't worry about what others thought and just man up about injuries. In a sense I agree but as an athletic trainer (field of sports medicine http://sportsmedicine.about.com/cs/athletic_training/a/aa062001a.htm ) I know that it is not always as easy as that.
Depression and loss of confidence often occur in athletes of all levels, from weekend warrior to pro athlete, and all ages when they get injured. Sometimes the body heals and the athlete is physically able to return to preinjury levels but is unable to do so because depression and/or lack of confidence is holding them back. This is part of the reason (there many others as well) why the field of sports psychology came into being and why it is such a growing field.
In addition, there is growing evidence to support that endurance athletes will sometimes suffer a post event depression. There is still a lot of speculation as to why, but there is growing evidence that it does occur.
So, while some may be able to suck it up and get through it, it is no embarrassment to need a little help. If wearing a red shirt letting people know that you're less than 100% helps, then it is a good thing. It becomes a tool for returning to full physical and mental health, not a crutch.
If you don't like the idea, or don't think it's for you, that's fine and my feelings won't be hurt, but if it helps even one person, it's worth it to me. I welcome any and all thoughts on the matter.
Wearing red means injured triathlete who is coming back strong as ever...

Barefoot Running: An Exercise in Stupidity

This post is rather late, it should have been done end of November to beginning of December 2009, but I’ve been procrastinating. Anyway, here it is…

The day after the 2009 Manchester City Marathon I woke up feeling pretty good. My legs were a bit stiff and sore, but I was able to walk normally and the legs felt progressively better as the morning progressed. My normal day after marathon routine was to go for a 2-3 mile easy run and stretch and I determined to stick with this routine. However, my feet were feeling really good and I was itching to give barefoot running another go. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of my smarter decisions.
I headed out on my run wearing my VFF’s (Vibram Five Fingers) and as expected, even though my legs were feeling pretty good walking, they were a bit sore and tight and made normal running far from easy and almost impossible. Add on to that I was barefoot running, which wasn’t normal for me and I was still trying to learn how to do it correctly, which was basically impossible with my legs as sore as they were. I got through the first mile feeling ok. Muscles were loosening up some, but were still giving me some difficulty. My feet were feeling pretty good at that point, but I started getting some mild top of foot pain shortly thereafter. For the most part the legs didn’t get any better and the feet stayed only a mild discomfort until the 3 mile mark. At this point the pain in my left foot suddenly became sharp. I was only .2 miles from finishing my intended run, but quickly came to a stop and walked the remaining distance.
By the time I got back I could barely walk. I downed some ibuprofen and put my feet in a cold whirlpool. After the whirlpool, my right foot felt great, but my left was only slightly better and I struggled to walk the rest of the day. The next day I awoke and my legs were feeling much better but my left foot only felt slightly better. I could walk, but it was painful. With the injuries that I had to my other foot I found that going for a run in my running shoes usually made them feel slightly better afterwards, so I decided to go for another run, but this time with my regular running shoes.
Somewhere about ½ mile into the run I started feeling confident that this was only going to be a minor problem that I’d quickly get over. Unfortunately, 1 ½ miles later I was in severe pain again and unable to run any further. I limped the remaining mile home and hit the ibuprofen and cold whirlpool again. A couple hours later my foot was significantly swollen and walking was pure torture.
For the next 5 days I avoided running and minimized my walking as much as possible. My foot continued to be very painful and swollen the whole time. I had to work a football game that Saturday and the three hours of lugging gear, walking sidelines and "running" out onto the field for injuries was pure hell. But I made it through the day and spent the rest of the weekend off of my feet.
By the following Monday I hadn’t made much progress and decided to give running one more try. I was only to hobble along at a very slow pace with a pretty good limp, but I made it through 3 miles and then did my post run ibuprofen and cold whirlpool again. After I got out of the whirlpool I noticed it was much easier to walk. I’m sure part of it was from my foot being numb from the cold, but as the day progressed my foot continued to feel better. Buoyed by the success of my run I decided to give it another try the following day and went out for 4 miles which I was able to do with less of a limp and at a faster pace. I followed it up again with ibuprofen and cold whirlpool and again I felt much better and walking was much easier the rest of the day.
Not really sure why running was helping with the recovery, but not caring too much I decided to try running again the following day. With my injuries to the other foot, I’d never tried running more than two days in a row and was a little concerned that doing so could be a bit too much. Stubbornness won out, and I went for the run anyway, but I did compromise and decided to back down the mileage some. I was only going to try 3.2 miles on this run.
I started out feeling good and running at a better pace then the previous two days. I made it through the 1 mile and thought I was going to have a great run because everything was feeling good. Unfortunately that feeling came crashing down within the next 200 yards. My foot suddenly felt like a white hot metal stake had been driven into it and I almost fell to the ground barely able to stand on it. This was by far the worst it had felt and I turned and slowly limped back.
By the time I got back the foot significantly more swelling than it had the previous week. I again took ibuprofen, this time doubling the dose, and stuck it in a cold whirlpool. I knew that I'd really screwed up this time and due to the type of pain and location, middle of second metatarsal, I was afraid that I'd developed a fracture. I struggled to walk and was seriously considering crutches and a visit to the doctor for x-rays.
As is typical for me I skipped doctor, x-rays and crutches. The next couple of days I struggled so bad to get around campus during the day that a severe limp would have been an improvement. I stayed off of my feet at night. The following week I was still limping around campus but foot was very slowly getting slightly less painful. I waited 7 days from my last run before trying again.
On the Wednesday of the following week I stumbled out onto the road again. Anyone that saw me must have thought I’d been bedridden for the last 40 years and was just trying to run for the first time. To say it was ugly would have raised about 100 rungs on the ladder above where it belonged. But I managed to hobble through 2 miles at about a 15 min/mile pace. I iced, downed my ibuprofen and hoped for the best.
The improvement was very minimal and may have even been my imagination, but I felt like I was walking ‘better’ the rest of the day. I took the following day off and tried again on Friday. It still wasn’t a pretty run but I felt that I’d moved up just short of Frankenstein taking his first steps. Well, his first steps across a bed of nails anyway, but an improvement. I repeated the same 2 miles from the last run and again iced and ibuprofened afterwards. The remainder of the day I walked like a zombie with broken feet, but I was getting better.
I refrained from running again until the following Monday when I repeated my last 2 runs. This time I was actually hobbling along at about a 10 min/mi pace and feeling almost human again. I ended up doing 2 more similar runs, one on Wednesday and another on Saturday, with a nice 30 mile bike ride in between. I was feeling pretty good on my final run of the week, but kept it to only 3 miles and a 9min pace. I was feeling ready to try running ‘normal’ again.
The following week my feet were feeling good and I slowly started a return to my regular running. I built the distance and pace gradually over next couple of weeks. I vowed to wait until January or later before giving barefoot running another try. I still fully believed that forefoot/barefoot running was the correct way to do it, but I was starting to have my doubts that I would ever be able to do it. I had years of running incorrectly which had caused atrophy of bone, muscle, tendon, ligaments, etc from lack of use that I wasn’t sure at my age if I could overcome it all, but I wasn’t done trying.

Adding this link well after publishing this post, but wish I'd have read this back in August when I started this whole adventure:
http://www.livingbarefoot.info/2010/03/the-dangers-of-barefooting-how-to-start-off-on-the-right-foot/

Barefoot Running: The Agony of De Feet

My last VFF (Vibram Five Fingers) run ended in disaster. Stepping on whatever it was caused severe bruising to my foot and continuing to run on it anyway caused major top of foot pain (TFP) and swelling in both feet. Then, spending another 11 hours on my feet working while wearing my VFF’s just made matters worse. By the end of the day I could barely walk.
I spent the whole weekend in my sandals to give my feet some padding instead of wearing my VFF’s which I’d taken to wearing all of the time since I’d bought them in the beginning of September. I also took the weekend off from running. By the end of the weekend most of the swelling had dissipated and there was only minimal discomfort left in my feet. My right foot where I’d stepped on the object was still very tender but I was fully functional again.
The Monday following my injury I laced up my regular running shoes (Brooks Beast) and went out for a 14 mile run. There was a little discomfort in my right foot but for the most part I felt pretty good. I started wearing my VFF’s again during the day as well. I went for shorter runs in my running shoes on Tuesday and Wednesday and felt very good with them, to the point that I felt ready to give running in my VFF’s another try.
So, on Thursday October 1st I headed out for a short run in my VFF KSO’s. It was just an easy 3.4 mile run with the usual down hill to start and up hill finish. The run felt great until I got to the up hill finish. I felt the now regular discomfort in the base of my toes during the climb, but felt great afterwards. There was no return in swelling or additional pain afterwards.
Buoyed in confidence from my successful run on Thursday I decided to do my first back to back days running in my VFF’s and ran in them again on Friday. I did the same course as Thursday but at a slightly faster pace. About midway through the run I felt a little discomfort starting in my right foot, but nothing that concerned me. The discomfort grew worse on the up hill section, but once again, nothing that I felt was alarming. I knew I needed to develop the strength in my feet and lower legs and just wrote it off as muscle soreness from overworking the muscle with the back to back days in my VFF’s.
My foot was a little tender the rest of the day, but I was able to walk around and work in my VFF’s without any problems. The next day the soreness was gone. I took the weekend off from running anyway just to make sure that everything recovered fully. I really wanted to master running in the VFF’s, but didn’t want to risk serious injury.
By the following Monday my feet were feeling great and I decided to go for another run in my VFF’s. My confidence had risen after successful (I deemed the soreness on the second day insignificant) and decided to up my mileage again. This time I was going to try for 6 miles. I was going to do the same route I’d done on Thursday and Friday of the previous week, but extend it further before I turned around.
The run started off great. My feet and legs felt fantastic and I was comfortably holding a 7 minute/mile pace. I reached the 3 mile mark and made the turn to go back and almost immediately started feeling a sharp pain at the base of my toes and along the top on my right foot. I backed off the pace, tried altering my stride and foot plant, but the pain continued. Even though pretty sharp, I still considered the pain to be simple muscle/tendon soreness and pushed on through the run. My pace slowly dropped to an 8 minute/mile pace and then a 9 minute/mile pace. I made it all the way back in running, but I started to develop a bit of a limp by the end.
I soon as I finished my run I iced my foot for 25 minutes and took some ibuprofen. About an hour later I had some pretty significant swelling in the foot and was having difficulty even walking. Not sure what I was doing wrong, I posted my problem on twitter and quickly got a reply from @Oblinkin.
Based on the info that he gave me (links below) I realized what I’d been doing wrong. It wasn’t just simple soreness from muscles/tendons that needed to be strengthened, I was running incorrectly for barefoot running. I was trying to combine a heel strike running form with a barefoot. I was landing correctly on my forefoot like proper barefoot technique, but was pushing off with my toes the way I would with the heel strike form I’d been using for years. The problem was, to push off with my toes like that I needed the support from running shoes that I was no longer wearing. I needed to modify my running technique further to correct this problem.
Unfortunately, by continuing to run on my foot I caused myself a fairly significant injury. I had to take the next several days off and then I was alternating very slow, short runs in my running shoes with 1 to 2 days off. I took slightly over 3 weeks before I was able to run normally again and another week beyond that before I was pain free in my right foot.

Links explaining top of foot pain and how to avoid:
http://runningbarefoot.org/?p=1186
http://www.runnersworld.com/community/forums/index.jsp?plckForumPage=ForumDiscussion&plckDiscussionId=Cat%3aRunner+CommunitiesForum%3a887b8e6c-ecb8-4ae7-a3ef-0f12bf559034Discussion%3ac4fd5e53-d062-4cd7-be90-100a8fc21126&plckCurrentPage=0

Barefoot Running: Going off the Rail

A couple of hours after my last VFF (Vibram Five Fingers) run on Wednesday September 16th I noticed an ache in several of my toes (joint at base of toe). It wasn’t anything bad, but definitely uncomfortable. This pain faded to barely noticeable and was gone by Friday. I wrote it off as too much strain on the toes going uphill. My run had finished with a ¾ mile uphill section and I thought the pain was most likely due to the stress placed on the shoes while making the climb.
So on the morning of Monday September 21st I decided to give my VFF’s another try but this time at a slightly shorter distance. I was going to try an easy 3.4 miles on the pavement. I’d have a ¾ mile downhill to start and have to climb it again at the end just like in my last run. The run was pretty much uneventful until near the end when I was headed back up the hill. I started feeling the same soreness in my toes that I felt after the last run, but this time I was feeling it while still running. It started shortly after I started the uphill climb and got steadily worse. This, at least in my mind, confirmed my thoughts from my previous run that it was due to the stress of going up the hill. Not a good thing, but something I felt was easily fixed.
The toes continued to get steadily worse as the day progressed. Nothing unbearable but they were aching pretty bad by the end of the day. I finally gave in and iced them that night, which helped somewhat, but didn’t completely ease the soreness.
The next day they were still pretty sore but I was able to go for a run in my normal running shoes, which I was running in daily between my VFF runs. I did the same route and had no problems whatsoever. The toes ached a bit on the uphill again, but were no worse after the run. They actually felt slightly better than they had before the run.
The week continued on and my toes felt steadily better. I did a 3.2 mile run on Wednesday and a 6 mile run on Thursday in my regular running shoes. I had no further problems and was feeling great. I was itching to try and run again in my VFF’s. I knew I had to find an adjustment or build strength in my feet so that the uphills no longer bothered me, but I had to get back out there and give it another go.
So on Friday, September 25th, I set out on another run in my VFF’s. Confident that my problem lay solely in the uphills, I decided to go for a longer run. I was going to have the same downhill start and uphill finish as the last two runs, but I was going to have a longer stretch of flat in between.
The run started off great. The first 1.5 miles felt great and I was having absolutely no problems. Unfortunately, that’s when things went bad. I stepped on something with my right foot, directly below the toe that had been the sorest. I’m not sure if it was a rock, an acorn or something else, but I felt a searing pain shoot through my foot like I’d been stabbed with a red hot nail. I hobbled a few more yards before stopping to walk. The base of my third toe felt like it was red hot and burning bright. I walked a short ways hoping for the pain to subside, which it didn’t. I started running again anyway and made it about another 100 yards before stopping to walk again. I was positive that something had pierced the shoe and my foot so I sat down to take a look.
I took my VFF off and examined the base of the toe. The skin was fine, not cut, discoloration, inflammation, bruising or any other problem. I took a look at the bottom of my VFF and found no damage there. I put it back on, got up and started walking again. The pain was no better, but it was also no worse so I decided to try and finish my run. It still hurt like crazy but it was getting no worse so I continued on.
After about a mile the pain, though still pretty bad, had lessened somewhat and my pace had picked up. At this point I reached my planned turn around point and I headed for home. Almost immediately I started feeling some soreness in my other foot. It wasn’t bad and I figured that it was from over compensating for the injured foot. I kept running and slowly picking the pace back up to where I had been before I injured my foot. I wasn’t running pretty, but I was running at a steady pace. The climb back up the hill was torture, but it was short lived and the run was soon over.
After the run I iced both feet. They felt slightly better afterwards and I was able to walk with out a limp. Unfortunately, I had a very long day of work left, mostly on my feet, and 11 hours later, when I was finally done for the day, I could barely walk. I got home and both feet were very swollen and painful. It didn’t take a genius moment on my part to realize that I’d made a huge mistake by finishing my run. I was pretty confident that I hadn’t damaged the bones, but I really hurt myself. My attempt to bullheaded charge into being a barefoot/VFF runner been derailed. I’m still convinced that forefoot running is the correct way, but I needed to take time out, heal and find out what all I was doing wrong.

Helpful links to cause and fix for some barefoot/VFF running foot pain (courtesy of @oblinken):

http://runningbarefoot.org/?p=1186

http://www.runnersworld.com/community/forums/index.jsp?plckForumPage=ForumDiscussion&plckDiscussionId=Cat%3aRunner+CommunitiesForum%3a887b8e6c-ecb8-4ae7-a3ef-0f12bf559034Discussion%3ac4fd5e53-d062-4cd7-be90-100a8fc21126&plckCurrentPage=0