The Barefoot Running Book - Jason Robillard [1]
But I was wrong. My body simply could not take the beating. I had developed plantar fasciitis resulting in me hobbling out of bed each morning. Every step was met with a searing pain that took hours to extinguish. I had also developed shin splints which made me feel as if my lower legs would snap at any moment. To make matters even worse, I developed what felt like a fractured pelvis and my kneecaps hurt so much I had to walk backwards down stairs.
Through all of that I persevered and trained when I could, sometimes missing days at a time in a feeble attempt to heal my broken body. One day while attempting to keep to my training schedule of running 30 miles, I was at the 12-mile mark when two semis passed one another. In an attempt avoid them I accidentally stepped on loose gravel at the edge of a steep ditch. Most people would have simply adjusted their weight but in my broken-down state, the best I could muster was to frantically wave my arms. With my barely-functional legs I could not respond fast enough and ended up tumbling down the embankment.
Oddly, the fall did not hurt as much as the pain from running. At that moment I realized there was no way I would ever be an ultrarunner. The best I could hope for was suffering through a marathon.
After dragging myself out of that ditch I took a few days off before easing back into training. A month later I ran a marathon. But it wasn’t the fifty miler I had dreamed of because the race, while fun, felt more like failure than a victory.
Later that winter I began to research better training methods. I was looking for an answer, any answer, in order to finish that same 50-miler the following year. My research led me down many paths from low heart rate training to Gallowalking®. I researched low mileage and high mileage training, advances in shoe technologies, custom orthotics, and various braces and devices runners use to support their various ailments.
One day I stumbled across an obscure article in an academic journal where an author was making a case for barefoot running. The hypothesis was simple: running without shoes strengthens your feet and forces you to run with good form. It was an intriguing idea and ran polar opposite to every bit of information I had researched. For me, the selling point was simple—I used to run barefoot.
My first attempts at barefoot running occurred way back in 1992 while preparing for high school wrestling.
At the time I was running with a good friend of mine, Jason Saint Amour. We had the idea of running barefoot on asphalt to “toughen our feet.” And, in my first experience with minimalist shoes, we would routinely run in wrestling shoes. At the time our friends thought we were crazy. Who knew at the time we were just a couple of early adopters!
Over the next 13 years, I was a sporadic recreational runner. My goals were to keep fit while attempting to maintain a reasonable weight. All the while my waistline was slowly expanding due to my love of beer, bacon, and gas station hot dogs.
Then in 2004, I met my wife Shelly who introduced me to the concept of regular exercise including several weekly runs totaling 10–15 miles. Though I had always enjoyed running, it wasn’t until then that I began taking it seriously. During those runs I always wore shoes. It was early in our relationship and I didn’t want to reveal my past interest in barefoot running just yet.
Because I was now a semi-serious runner, I felt I needed formal running shoes. A local big-box sporting goods store advertised a major shoe sale. When I arrived, a teenage salesperson named “Duane” helped me by measuring my feet and giving me a few suggestions. I tried on a few pairs, parading back and forth in front of Shelly and Duane. Two pairs were especially comfortable; the padding in both made it feel as if I were walking on marshmallows.