Barefoot Monologues

A Journey of the Sole


A Place Called Home


I am now approaching the eve of a full year spent living in San Diego, on the other side of the country from where my life began. I have been procrastinating this post for awhile now; partly because I’ve been keeping myself too busy to write (more on that later), but mostly because I wasn’t really sure what’s left to say on the subject without worrying that it’ll sounding braggy or trite. But I think I’ve finally come down from that surreal, vacation-like state of having first moved here, and I’ve had time to reflect on what this year has changed about me.

To be honest it doesn’t even feel like a whole year has passed. More like five or six months. A strange thing happens as we get older: the world just keeps spinning faster and the years fling by like boomerangs. Christmas, birthday, Summer, Autumn, Christmas. I remember being a kid and thinking how very long a year was. “Summer is right around the corner,” my Grammy would ponder, but to me it felt as if decades passed before swimsuit weather was upon us again.

Speaking of my Grammy, she lived here in San Diego once. She and my Grampa schlepped themselves west for promising work right after high school, along with my Grampa’s brother Pete and my aunt Pauline. They only stayed for a year, living for a time in the North Park area with my aunt Marion and her husband. It was tight living quarters for sure, but that was part of the family-centric culture back in the 50’s. Even though it was short lived, my grandmother definitely loved it. I know this because she told me so many stories about San Diego when I was a child that I think the soul of this place was permanently imprinted on me even back then.

Views of Lake San Marcos from the top of Double Peak, just ten minutes from my house.

Lake San Marcos from the top of Double Peak. My house may actually be in this photo.

This was apparent when I first vacationed here with Shawn in 2005 – and then kept finding excuses to come back. I knew it then as much as I know it now: this town, by the truest definition, is my home. For 33 years I existed in eastern New England, floundering a lot, finding friends and losing them again, moving from town to town. I looked hard between the forests and the cities for a place I could call mine. A town I would fall in love with. In 33 years I never found one. Finally I began to fancy myself a floater: I figured I must be just one of those people who prefers to be unbound to a particular place in favor of trying everywhere. I realize now I was just unsatisfied.

Unlike just about everyone I knew, I never retained a close-knit group of longtime friends who would drop by the house to borrow a cup of sugar or feed my cat while I was away. I had one or two very close friends whom I love like siblings, but because I moved all over the state we always seemed to be an hour’s drive away from each other. I’ve never been very close to family; both of my parents are deceased and my family of aunts, uncles and cousins are spread out all over New England. And frankly, our emotional distance is even wider than that. I’ve never felt I could count on anyone to be there for me the way I saw others could. I always thought it didn’t bother me, but I understand now that it really kind of did.

But you know, I think we all live our lives normalizing whatever is around us. Palm trees and year-round temperate weather is business as usual for a native Californian. But they were a far-off daydream to me, as I dug my car out of snowdrifts all winter long. A dream so big that I think part of me simply waited to begin living any actual life until I had a permanent tan and a back yard full of queen palms.


The SoCal Sunset.

And so here I am. Home, and finally living my actual life. This place suits me like a soul mate. I now get to look out the windows of the loft I’ve made into my home-office at a landscape rife with southern Californian beauty. Rocky hills and mountains in the distance that make way for sun-struck glimpses of the great Pacific, hawks flying above, coyotes howling at night, and skies so wide and so blue that I finally understand what it’s like to feel miles of open space and the roundness of the earth as it curves away before my eyes. The mercury hardly ever rises so high that I need air conditioning, nor falls so low that I need to put socks on my bare feet. That perfect happy temperature and humidity level, which tends to elude New England for all but ten days per annum, is the absolute norm here. And so is the sunshine. Sunshine, which has ever been the perpetuator of my deepest personal happiness, couldn’t be more plentiful: it has rained only 6 or 7 times since we arrived.

The beach-sandy, easy-living culture of SoCal plays to all the best parts of my personality. All 70 miles of San Diego coastline is public turf, which means you can park anywhere and walk, run, swim, surf, kayak, paddle or relax on the beach all year round, any time of day or night and never have to be elbow-to-elbow with a bunch of annoying overly-tanned strangers. There are stretches of beach, and even an entire island, dedicated to San Diego’s love of dogs, and a large number of restaurants welcome our canine friends with spacious outdoor seating and plenty of doggy water bowls.


A view of my neighborhood

San Diego is one of the largest hops-brewing cities in the world, housing over 100 breweries and microbreweries within the county lines. The city’s passion for beer has spurned some of the best hashing in the country as well, with something around 15 kennels of trail-running, beer-drinking Hash House Harriers, littering the earth with chalk symbols and baking flour dollops on just about every day of the week. People who become Hashers and Harriettes tend to be a lot like me: they are mostly educated, laid-back people with a love for good trails, fine beer and dirty jokes. Many of them with either no kids or grown kids, they are free to live the social lives they desire. They are athletic but not competitive, health-conscious but not militant. They tend to be quite comfortable within themselves, which makes for an exceptional (and exceptionally large, for me) network of friends and acquaintances who have kept me busy, entertained and running dozens of insanely awesome local trails for over eight months now (which explains my lack of time for blogging). Because of Hashing, I finally have the opportunity to gain that centralize social circle that has always eluded me in life.

Trails in Escondido

Trails in Escondido

And at least two-thirds of the people I have met here, hashers or not, are transplants like me. They have been equally drawn in by the magnetic pull of the SoCal life. It only figures that people who are bold enough to leave their original lives behind for something better tend to have a lot of other personality traits in common too. Because of this I find it much easier to be present in the friendships I have made, and I feel much more understood. Nobody here bugs me to have kids or to buy a home, or alienates me for my divergent choices. I no longer feel surrounded by complainers who hate their lives but are too lazy or cowardly to improve them. I sense more independence amongst these San Diegans: people play more active roles in their own lives and don’t seem as likely to expect from the world (or their parents) that morphine-drip of emotional and/or financial support that I saw so often back east.

I once heard the advice: “Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Southern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.” I used to worry that losing my east coast roots would bring forth the departure of my soul, my grit. But now I see that’s a completely bullshit notion. The only thing I have lost since I’ve moved out here is my bitterness: bitterness about the weather, about the traffic, about friends lost, about the insane cost of living and the life-sucking obligation to always settle for less than what I wanted. I don’t feel that way out here. I don’t feel poor like I did in New England, even though I make roughly the same amount of money. I don’t live in a crappy neighborhood because that’s all I can afford. Instead I live in a nice house in a quiet community, close to the beach and a few minutes from the nearest mountain views.

No, I have not lost my soul: instead I have introduced this soul to the joys I never knew I could afford or deserve. I have not lost my grit: instead I’ve applied it to more positive endeavors, like running for miles up mountains and learning how to stand on a surfboard (it’s much harder than it looks, by the way). I have learned that people desire different things in life and that there is just no good reason – not family, not a job, not fear – to relegate myself to a place or a lifestyle that’s less than what I ultimately desire. I only get one body and one finite period of time to live in it, and I’ve done myself a disservice to have even for a moment wasted it at the hands of my lesser obligations.


A photo taken after my first surf lesson

As a result of this realization, I have come to no longer care what my distant family members think of my free-wheeling lifestyle. I don’t care how new parents feel about my rejection of the parenting life. It means less than zero to me whether other married couples think Shawn and I act married enough or spend an adequate amount of time participating in each other’s chosen pastimes. I don’t care if fellow runners think I drink too much beer or if fellow hashers think I run too many races. It took me 33 years, but my choices finally feel like they’re completely mine. I finally feel beautiful. I finally feel whole. I finally feel happy. And I mean really, honestly happy. And I don’t even give a shit if you don’t believe that. This is what it means to “find yourself”.

This, my friends, is what it feels like to find your home.


Tutus and Shiggy Socks: Finding the Spiritual in an Unexpected Place

It’s going to be another one of those brightly sun-drenched days, I think, as my steady plodding trot turns to a hike and heads skyward once again on this wide open, sandy trail in desert-like northeastern San Diego County. My legs feel like boulders beneath my hips as they labor up another steep incline, more slowly than I wish they would. My hydration vest has come in handy so far but I’m still feeling a little dizzy from the heat and the effort. The trail continues on an upward trend for three more miles before leveling off, and I have to stop twice to catch my breath. I curse the recent bout of bronchitis for setting back my cardio endurance so much, but despite my struggle I am alright. In fact I’m genuinely glad to be here. I would smile to prove it, if I wasn’t so sure that my squinting into the sun would make it look more like a grimace than a grin.

uphillA small part of the pack making their way uphill last week.

The best part of this hot, late morning run is that I’m not alone. If I was, I am sure I’d have turned around and headed home by now. I am travelling with a group of forty or so people, stretched for miles across the two trails which have been laid for us that day: the 4 mile “Turkey” trail and the 6 mile “Eagle.” A handful of people I have grown quite fond of toil beside me, as we hike the hills and run the straight-aways together. There is something special about running with these people. There is something spiritual about following these trails, laid in all-purpose baking flour by a different volunteer each week. There is something extraordinary about the entire event called a Hash, something I know each one of us there senses, but never really talks about.

Every hash group follows the common theme a little differently: some will focus a lot on the run itself, and others are more about gathering socially. Some attract single, twenty-somethings and others are populated by a more middle-aged crowd. But despite their divergent outward appearances, each hash has the same history, and the same backbone. It is the gathering of a pack of like-minded individuals, each participating in a symbolic “hunt” through roads, trails and quite often complete wilderness, which concludes in a “feast” for all involved (beer and food provided by the volunteers who laid the trail). It didn’t take me long to realize that a hash is a perfect modern-day symbol of our most primitive of social activities.


The Hash House Harriers glossary of terms found in chalk on trail.

Even though we all run together, the hash is way more primal than your average jaunt through the city with a training group or a trail race with your friends. During a hash run you must chase a trail through varying terrains which are completely unpredictable in nature. You may need to run on roads or trails, up steep hills, down slippery embankments, over ankle-twisting gravel, along drainage pipes, and through hip-high brush or bamboo forests. You might be forced to climb fences, jump off walls or walk across roofs. During the run you may be fooled by a cleverly laid back-track, or lose the trail altogether. But no matter where the flour takes you, you will always have to be thinking while you are running. You must keep your eye to the ground – both for your safety and for the latest trail marking. We may all be chatting jovially as we form groups and seek out trail together, but don’t let this levity fool you – the hash transforms us all into the savage hunter, and our prey is the “hare” that was loosed a mere fifteen minutes ahead of the pack.

Even though we all eat good food and drink craft beer once we reach the end of the trails, the hash is nothing like your ordinary summer barbecue. Strangely similar to that of our ancestors, we are a modern-day tribe of revelers, oftentimes bedecked in costume, knee-socks, kilt and handmade ornamental jewelry that displays the names to which each of us is given by the tribe itself. We have appointed chiefs who lead us in verses that we all know and sing (and sometimes dance) during the ritual called a “circle,” which takes place after the trail at every hash event. This ritual is often humorous, unorganized and slightly debaucherous, but a ritual it remains. At some hashes the circle is so unique and esoteric that it actually resembles something spiritual. Something religious, even.

And if I dare to call this experience religious, it’s because I’ve learned so much more about my inner self as a Hasher than I ever did during my years as a Churchgoer.

Being a Hasher has taught me what my strengths are as a runner and it has taught me to accept my weaknesses. It has taught me that running works best as a social sport, the way it was back when our ancestors hunted for dinner on foot. Hashing has taught me the power of positive motivation and of generosity. It has taught me how to train better for races, mentally as well as physically. It taught me that my body can handle most of the things I’m afraid it can’t, and that my odd sense of humor is not lost on everyone. The hash has gifted me with amazing new friendships that have potential of existing for the long haul. And perhaps best of all, the hash has taught me the value of unconformity: grouping people of different age groups, education levels, socio-economic status, birthplaces, religious and political views, morals and vices, sexual orientation and athletic ability into one running, beer-drinking, laughing, roasting, singing, tutu-wearing, joyful assemblage makes for an impossibly high level of awesome that can rarely, if ever, be achieved anywhere else on the planet.

In the words of my dear, dear friend Caity, the hash is “too awesome to actually be real.” Heh. Amen to that.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go wash the poison oak out of my favorite shiggy socks. On On!


Review: Sport Kilt


In the most general sense, a kilt isn’t exactly your typical piece of running gear. When you think of a kilt, you’re probably picturing weddings, funerals and hairy, middle-aged Scottish men with bagpipes.  That is, of course, unless you’re not the typical runner.

In my travels, I have had the pleasure of meeting hundreds of runners, of all sorts and styles. Just like with any given group of people, you can divide runners up into several different categories. You’ve got your uber-serious runner, pounding out 100-mile weeks wearing $300 racing flats and a hard-set jaw, and your relaxed runner donning some old sweatpants and a grin. There are road runners and trail runners. Ultramarathoners and 5K’ers. And then there are the minimalist runners, wearing nothing but short-shorts, Luna Sandals and a beard, and your maximalist runners hauling around a 4-bottle hydration belt, GPS watch with heart-rate monitor, ID tag, sweatband, tie-dye calf sleeves and Hokas.


Sprinkled somewhere within the heart of all those groups is the Sport-Kilt runner (like my ultrarunner friend Jason, pictured left). It may seem outlandish for many of you to imagine that running in a kilt would ever become popular enough to warrant designing one with the word “Sport” in the title. But I assure you that it’s not outlandish at all. In fact it’s quite the opposite, at least in my experience. Of the three groups of runners that I have fallen in with at one point or another over the years (minimalists, ultramarathoners and hashers), they have all had several members who embrace the Sport Kilt as a commonplace piece of running attire.

I have always been curious about what it’s like to wear a kilt while running. I had a lot of questions, like how would a piece of pleated polyester sit on you while you’re running? Would it twist, fall, hike up or rub? How hot would it get under there? Are there pockets? And most importantly, from a traditional standpoint, am I allowed to wear underwear?*

So I reached out to the good folks over at Sport Kilt, and they were happy to send me two of their ultra-feminine UltraMini kilts to try. One of them is their basic model Ultra Mini, and the other has added belt loops and lower profile sewn-down pleats. Both kilts have a wide, adjustable Velcro waistband closure and a hidden, surprisingly secure front pocket. Both kilts fit me the same way, but I don’t really care about the belt loops, except maybe to hang keys off them or something, and I prefer the one with the sewn-down pleats because it stays pleated better (this I learned during my years as a Catholic school kid). I like the adjustable closure because it allows me to tighten the skirt while I’m running so it doesn’t fall down, and loosen it later on if I want more of a low-rise look (or a slightly longer hem).


And speaking of hem, the Ultra Mini kilt is quite, well…mini. On a hasher website, a Sport Kilt banner ad begs the question: “How short do you go?” Apparently, short enough to answer that whole underwear question with a resounding “YES”, since I have no intention of getting arrested for indecent exposure. Of the handful of times I have worn my Sport Kilts, I have paired them with compression shorts, a bikini bottom and regular underwear (hey what the hell, I am a hasher!). With compression shorts the skirt seems bulky and rather redundant. With underwear I was flashing my fellow hashers all day long (not that they minded). This I know because of the nearly constant shouts of “Pink!” from behind me as I leaned forward or climbed steep embankments… the color of my favorite Victoria’s Secret cheeky panties. That said, I much prefer wearing a less taboo pair of bikini bottoms or RunBuns under this skirt, which is more like something you’d find attached under a RunningSkirts brand skirt.


Being that I’m originally from a cold-weather state, I am pretty sensitive to the heat when I am running. I will wear a short sleeve shirt running all the way down to 45 degrees. So I was a little apprehensive about the prospect of wearing a kilt running in southern California. Surprisingly, even though it’s not my lightest piece of running clothing, I didn’t feel particularly hot in the kilt. The pleated fabric allows a lot of air circulation when you move, and the fabric is somewhat absorbent, so the bit of dampness keeps you cooler (unlike with sweat-wicking materials which dry right away, thus rendering your sweat useless in dry climates). You probably won’t catch me wearing one of these kilts on a long run through Escondido in August, but other than that it serves as a perfectly reasonable running “skirt”.



You might be asking yourself why wear a Sport Kilt rather than your usual running skirt/shorts/hiking gear? Well for one, most running skirts are made of sweat wicking materials so if you buy into Jason Robillard’s theory that absorbent cottons actually keep you cooler, then a kilt is a great alternative. And if you’re a dude who likes to keep your junk free and cool while running but aren’t into the Naked American short-shorts thing (left), then you’ll probably like wearing a Sport Kilt (although I would suggest you get a longer one). Not to mention you’ll always have something appropriate to wear to St. Patrick’s Day 5Ks, Irish weddings and sexy school-girl events.

Check the Sport Kilt site out here. You can choose from dozens of different tartans, including the California Tartan and the Hash House Trail tartan.

*in case you’re unfamiliar with the underwear conundrum, there’s an old riddle that goes like this: What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt? His shoes.


Review: Luna Sandals Mono with Ribbon Laces


Having been part of this whole “barefoot” and “minimalist” running world for a few years now, and having seen it change and grow, I have come to know a lot about the innovators and entrepreneurs who have brought so much to it for so many people. One of those innovators is the Luna Sandals company. Powered by some of the most fun-loving, kind and down to earth people you could ever meet [at the Born to Run Ultra], Luna Sandals is as much a culture as it is a company. How great would it be to work for such a place!

It’s sadly just so rare these days to find a company that is just as good at professionalism and quality as it is at having fun and being passionate about the same things their customers are. Luna has this and I find it totally refreshing. This is one of the biggest reasons why I love to support and promote them and their products.


The other reason is that I really love their sandals, guys! Last year I got the opportunity to review their original suede-covered sandal (renamed “Venado”) with the ATS laces that had just come out. Once I wore those babies in they became my only piece of footwear during the summer. I wore them for the 3,000 miles from Boston to San Diego when we made our big move. I ran, hiked, climbed and lived in them so much that the foot bed now has a fine patina and they have a fit so perfect that it would charm the likes of Cinderella.

oldshoeLast year’s Venado – beautifully worn in.

The only place I didn’t love my Luna Venados was when I ran up steep hills, which is a frequent occurrence for me around here. The tread on the soles was pretty flat and didn’t hold on to the ground as well as I liked, especially after building in some wear. So when I saw the new Mono food bed (pronounced “moe-no”, and is Spanish for “monkey”), I thought it might be a good alternative for the trails. Much thanks to the generous Lunar Monkeys, I was able to snag a pair cut down to the shape of my foot, and this time I decided to try some tie laces rather than the ATS.

The Mono Foot Bed

Instead of suede like in my Venado footbed, the sole of my Mono is covered in Pittard’s leather. This is supposed to be a more premium material than the suede, and less slippery in wet conditions. I found the leather to be comfortable and yes, seemed to have a better traction to my foot when wet. But the leather doesn’t get that nice form-fitting wear-in that makes my Venados feel so special. At least not yet, anyway. That could be due in part to the thickness of the sole (12mm as opposed to the Venado, which I think is 6mm), which turns out has its own list of considerations.


Because the sole’s rubber is so thick, the toe and ankle holes are able to be counter-sunk, which means they dug into the sole a bit so that the laces don’t rub against the ground. This is a definite plus for the life of your laces. The sole of the Mono has some tread, so the traction is much better than the Venado for trail, although not as rugged as the Leadville (their recommended trail sandal). The Mono is more of an all-terrain sandal, which works for someone like me who is just as likely to wear them to the farmer’s market as I am to bring them on trail.

bottomThese photos shoe the sunken-in laces and toe plug.

And speaking of trails: I actually found myself running some trails in this shoe, especially when paired with the right laces (more on that later). The extra oomph of the footbed gives me just a little more traction – not enough to run down Torrey Pines Gliderport, most likely, but it works. The only negative I experienced is the thickness of the foot bed. It’s 12mm. That’s thick enough to keep me from feeling the ground. Most people don’t have the ankle problem that I do, but if I can’t feel the subtle ground changes below me, I lose proprioception, and thus I lose the reaction time I need to prevent twisted ankles.

So unfortunately I’m not really sure how much trail running I’ll do in these sandals, and I may consider purchasing a pair of Leadville Pacers for their rugged traction and thinner sole, and then have the full array of Luna sandals to meet my running needs.

The Laces

Your choice of lacing is probably the most personal, make-it-or-break-it aspect of any Luna Sandal. There’s the no-fuss ATS lacing, the ¼”  or 10mm leather laces, traditional hemp laces, and new to the game, the ribbon laces (currently offered in black and blue). I requested the tying laces as opposed to the more popular ATS laces this time around because I really love the way they look all wrapped around my foot and ankle – I find it pretty and stylish. I got my Monos before the ribbon laces were available. So when my pair came in they had a set of 10mm laces, the thicker leather that they offer. I don’t actually know why I chose the 10mm (or even if I did), but I wasn’t a fan. They were so thick and unflexible that I couldn’t get them to stay tied. They literally fell off my feet while I walked. Perhaps the ¼” laces would have made me happier. However, once I saw a few photos of sandals with the new ribbon lacing, I had to snag a set for myself (and at $12, they weren’t too much of a risk).

oldlacesMy feet up on the dashboard in the 10mm leather laces.

And my gosh what a world of difference! The ribbon laces may or may not be as long-lasting as the leather ones (this remains to be seen) but I very much prefer the plush, pliable fabric of the ribbon (which is sort of like a much softer version of a backpack or seatbelt strap).

Used to be I always stuck with the pre-tied huarache because traditional tied laces tend to slide right off my heels. Doesn’t matter how tight or loose I tie the things, the heel strap just doesn’t stay put. But because the ribbon lacing is so workable, I was able to find my own tying method (see below) that keeps the shoe in place permanently. For the first time, my feet are comfortable, there is no rubbing, and I don’t have to adjust or retie…ever. This tying method has worked so well for me that I even prefer it over the ATS lacing, and the new ribbon is so perfect that it makes any Luna sandal the most comfortable huarache you’ll ever put on your feet. Yeah, I said it. For the first time ever I can actually see myself comfortably running a distance race in a pair of sandals.

That’s big.

backThe tying method for those with flat heels: loop the lace once under the heel strap, and it doesn’t budge.

The Wrap-Up

Overall, I dig the Mono and I know I will wear it a lot. I miss the suede footbed, but I think I’ll get used to the Pittard’s leather and eventually see the up-sides of it. I probably won’t be spending a lot of time running trail in the Mono because of its thick sole, but I can see myself tying them on for a road run on a hot day or for some hiking with my dog. I will probably wear them everywhere I go this summer, however. I love the way they look and feel with the ribbon lacing, especially now that I have the tying part down. They are exceedingly comfortable, secure and even fashionable. If you’re looking for the all-terrain, super comfortable huarache shoe that has a little more sole protection, this is your Luna. If you don’t have a problem with thicker soles on easy trails (or prefer it), you’ll love wearing the Mono on the trail as much as on the road. But if you’re hoping for a sandal with amazing traction and don’t care about the leather footbed, go for the Leadville (12mm thick sole) or Leadville Pacer (9mm) instead. Either way, I highly recommend the new ribbon laces for their versatility, adjustability, stability and comfort. They’re just a total win.



Earth Runners Sandal Giveaway WINNER!

First I want to thank everyone who read my review on the Earth Runners Circadian Sandal and entered my giveaway. It’s so much fun giving stuff away!

I counted up all the entries and used an online random number generator to give me my winning number.

randomThe 28th entry (and the winner-winner-chicken-dinner) was from:


Congrats, Yuri! Go ahead and send me an email at and I’ll get you set up with your new sandals.

Thanks again everyone, and happy running!


Obstacle Races and Ultrarunning: A Horrible Match Made in CrossFit Hell?

I started running for real about three years ago. And by “for real” I mean three years ago I announced to the public world that I am a runner, and I did this by signing up for my first race (does that sound too much like I’m comparing my running life to the way more meaningful “coming out of the closet”? Hm. Is that weird? Whatever, nevermind). I started with 5K’s, then 10k’s, and then eventually I moved up to longer races and I have pretty much stayed there ever since. I guess you could say I evolved into a distance runner, or at the very least I found my sweet spot. Which, by the way, is somewhere between “pretty slow” and “fucking really slow.”

But of course, staying anywhere for too long is never enough these days. You’ve always got to be striving to finish faster or go longer. A couple of years ago, while I was still doing my best to pin down a better half marathon time, the ultramarathon snuck up on everyone and became the new thing. Plain old 26.2’s just didn’t cut it anymore (unless you’re a road runner, and I mean, who wants to be one of those? Ugh*). The new standard went that you didn’t know what it was like to really love running unless you’ve run a trail race that’s so long you needed to change your shoes, stop to poop more than once, and consume full meals during the running of it. But once you ran your first ultra, you were from then on deemed an “ultrarunner.” Oh yes, that nifty, arbitrary term that has absolutely no real meaning. And once you’ve earned it then maybe, just maybe, you could even call yourself a real runner. Anything less than that was sorta washy.

So of course, I just had to have it. In due diligence, I completed my first ultra marathon. And then I ran another…you know, for posterity. Did I run them for the privilege of being able to call myself a runner? Maybe, who the hell knows.  After all these years I’m still not even sure where walking ends and running begins, anyway.

But no need to get stuck on all that baloney: because the whole expectation has changed once again. Have you noticed? Now it’s all about the obstacle race. I for one blame the trendy, LuluLemon-outfitted, meteoric rise of the CrossFit workout. Now, CrossFit is all about obstacles. Machines. Heavy weights. Upper-body strength. Anaerobic exercise. Grunting. In other words, being a CrossFitter is the exact opposite of being a runner. And obstacle races, well…from the looks of ’em, they are the CrossFit of races. Or, wait…maybe they’re the race of CrossFitters? Either way they totally confuse me, because 5K obstacle races are everything that a 5K race…isn’t.

I have a handful of friends who make an enormous deal out of “running” obstacle races. I’m happy that they are getting off the couch and being active (even if they are only ever being active as such, on the day of the race). My friends, like most other obstacle race enthusiasts, seem to have taken the act of climbing walls, crawling through mud pits, jumping over small fires, carrying buckets of water, hanging from ropes and knocking down dozens of burpees, and packaged it up into their definition of “running.” As in, “BillyBob and I are running the Spartan race next weekend.” But the message is totally faulty. Because from what I’ve gathered about obstacle races, the skills required to finish them have very little to do with the skills and training required to finish, say, the regular old 3.1 miler. In a 3.1 miler, you run. And you don’t stop, for the whole time. In an obstacle race, what little energy devoted to running is just for the purpose of getting from one obstacle to the next.


So why do so many obstacle race enthusiasts identify as “runners”? Has the obstacle course addict now become the new “runner”? Has CrossFit completely rearranged everything about fitness, encompassed it, right down to our beloved foot race? Have obstacle races taken away the hard-earned and much-coveted, bemedaled glory of the distance runner?

One might say yes, it has. But I reject that, gosh-darn it! Obstacle racers are not, in and of themselves, runners. They are obstacle racers, who participate in obstacle races. They may be strong, they may be badass. They may be able to do twenty more pull-ups than me (which is to say they can do…well…twenty pull-ups). But one thing they can’t do as well as me is train like a distance runner! They don’t spend long hours logging miles on their feet, they don’t obsess about pace and fueling, or sacrifice entire weekends for the long run. I declare that obstacle racers belong to the CrossFit Team, not the Runner Team.

Indeed, if you Warrior Dashers, Mud Runners and Spartan Sprinters want to prepare your bad asses for an obstacle race, you’d be much better off doing something like, oh I don’t know, 100 burpees a day. And then some deep squats. And a lot of grunting, too. You obstacle racers should stay over there with the kettle balls and the chin-up bars, and let us runners keep our race medals and our GPS watches and our useless upper bodies. Guys, there’s just no room for any kind of crossover**. You’re either one of them, or you’re one of us. I mean, seriously, I’ve never met an ultrarunner who does 100 burpees a day for fun. Have you?

(Shut up, Vanessa Runs)

I propose we all henceforth agree that obstacle racers shall call themselves “CrossFitters” (or some preferred variation of), instead of “Runners”. Because with all the man-made, non-runner-friendly contraptions littered all over the course, calling it a CrossFit race is much more fitting than calling it a Sprint or a Run. Or at the very least, if you want a true crossover, you should allow for the individual interpretation of the race by each participant, based on their preference and skillset. I mean, think about it: as a runner, using my very well-rounded*** runner’s logic, I would argue that the best way to complete the Spartan Sprint would be to…well…sprint. Sprint past, around and between all of the obstacles. A real “runner” would never climb over walls because that would just eat up precious seconds from our PR.

So don’t call it a sprint. Don’t call it running. Call it racing, if you must…but it would be even better if you found some other term. Maybe you could just settle on something more accurate, like hustling, or maneuvering. Or how about scampering. I’ve always liked that word, scampering. Nobody uses it anymore. I think we should bring it back.

*Before you get your panties in a bunch, I should let you all know this post is meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Get off the treadmill/rowing machine and laugh, people.
**Yes…still jesting. This is supposed to be fun, no whining allowed.
*** I know what you’re thinking: my logic is airtight thus far.


Review and Giveaway: Earth Runners Circadian Sandal


A few weeks back I was approached by Earth Runners to review the newest in their line of minimalist sandals. Until that point I had only peripherally heard of the company, and didn’t really know much about their brand of sandals. But I said yes because the more I looked into them, I realized the Earth Runner sandal is different from a lot of the other Tahuramara-inspired minimalist sandals out there, in two big ways:

The Lacing

It looks a lot like the kind of lacing that you’ve seen in other huarache-style sandals, but the system is a little different. The sturdy toe strap slides between your first and second toe and goes on to create the heel strap much like all the others, but then it comes across your ankle just once and is then strapped in by a nifty push buckle on the outside. It makes for a very clean look that is easily adjustable and very secure. No sliding, no pinching, no tying. And best of all, the closure system assures that the heel strap never slides off my heel: bonus!


The Copper

Earth Runners subscribes to the concept of earthing, which is the idea that utilizing the ground’s electrical energy can help maintain our health and well-being.  To keep us connected to the earth below us, Earth Runners has installed special conductive copper plugs into the rubber soles and laces of their sandals, and has even “impregnated” the straps themselves with conductive material.


I’m not really sure where I stand on the whole earthing concept, but I would have to say that it can’t be bad for me, so why not? If nothing else, a little placebo never hurt anybody. That aside, I like my Earth Runners a lot more than I expected to, and I really do find myself wearing them everywhere. I definitely wear them least as often as my favorite Lunas, and that’s saying something. The Circadian model, which is the one I received, has a distinctively feminine vibe to my eyes (although, yes, they are unisex). Most other huarache-style sandals can tend to feel masculine or utilitarian to me. When I walk around in my Circadians, I feel like I’m wearing a regular sandal that goes quite well, fashion-wise, with the casual summer skirts and dresses I like to wear. And the best part is I’m still getting the benefits of a great minimalist, zero-drop huarache. And the benefits of grounding, as well.

I haven’t run in these sandals (they’re just too pretty!), although I know that many people do, and they’re built well enough for running. They have a 6mm thick, really grippy Vibram rubber sole that comes out of the box already partly molded to the natural shape of your foot. I really liked that, because flat rubber sandals can sometimes feel floppy and wobbly (which is why I usually prefer sandals with suede or leather over the rubber), but the gentle curvature in the sole of the Circadian gives my foot a nice seat.


I’ve taken my dog for several road and trail walks in these and I like the ground feel and the sticky slip protection they provide. The guys over at Earth Runners was also more than happy to cut the sole to a drawing I had of my feet, so they fit just perfectly, which is such a bonus for me and my monkey feet!

The Earth Runners Circadian model (and the Birkenstock-soled Alpha, too) is available currently on Support the startup, y’all! It’s only there until June 2! A few weeks after the kickstarter campaign is over, the two new models will be available for sale on the Earth Runners website.

earthrunnersClick on the image above to head over to the Kickstarter site!

And just to get you all excited about these fantastic sandals, I’m going to give away a pair of Circadians OR Alphas to one lucky reader. Yay! We all love giveaways, don’t we?

*   *   *

This contest will run until Friday, May 31st. There are five ways to enter:

  • 1 ENTRY for posting a comment: tell me why you want a pair of Earth Runners, and where you’ll take them! Or ask a question if you’ve got one.
  • 1 ENTRY PER DAY for sharing this giveaway on Facebook (please leave a separate comment with the URL to the FB page). You may share it more than once and earn a separate entry.
  • 1 ENTRY PER DAY for tweeting about this giveaway (please leave a separate comment with the URL to your tweet). You may tweet more than once and earn a separate entry.
  • 1 ENTRY for liking the Earth Runners page on Facebook: (leave a separate comment to tell me you’ve done this)
  • 1 ENTRY for following my blog (please leave a separate comment to tell me you’ve done this so I can verify)

On Friday I will tally up the comments by number and let choose the winner for me. The lucky winner can choose one pair of either the Circadian or Alpha sandal (pictured above). Winner should email me at and I’ll get you all set up!

Thanks for reading, and good luck!


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