It was late December that I was finally able to go out on my first run since my surrender to The Enemy. I decided to aim for a conservative two miles on a rubberized track (my husband's idea), with a walking break in between. I wasn’t taking any chances. Still smarting from the kick in the pants of being unable to run, let alone even go for a long walk, for more than 10 weeks, I was not prepared to shoot Hope in the foot (or Foot in the hope?) by bursting out of the gate too quickly. Much as I was itching to go buy a pair of VFFs (Vibram FiveFingers) to try out this near-barefoot running thing for myself, I concluded that with my injury spot being a bone on the bottom of my foot, I’d best not get rid of all of the protective cushioning too quickly. At least not until I was certain that all was well. Occasionally I do demonstrate a little common sense when it comes to my physical well-being and my running ambitions. Aside from an unanticipated hot spot threatening to form a blister from my new insoles which caused me to cut my first attempt short, the run itself was a success.
Still, it wasn’t until mid-January that I knew my time had arrived. My runs were getting steadily longer without issue (much issue, anyway), and my wonderful husband had just discovered (by way of an ultra-running friend and his ultra-running wife – my idols – who were also giving the VFF thing a try) an actual physical store right here in the Bay Area that stocked them! Hot damn! I’m finally gonna get to buy me some non-shoes!
Trying VFFs (I opted for the KSO model) on for the first time is, well…a challenge. The salesguy measured my foot and decided that I should be in a size 39, whereas, by my own measurements at home and using the VFF website’s guidelines, I had come up with a size 38. At the salesguy's insistence, I tried the 39s first. I had no idea what I was in for. Putting the VFFs on for the first time was an awkward struggle, given that my second and third toes were trying to cohabit one toe, while my third and fourth toes were trying to cohabit another (and it's not like there’s much room for you to squeeze a helpful, guiding finger in there to set them straight), meanwhile the other hand is preoccupied, trying to work the rear opening over your heel. This may be due to the KSO's design, which features a “thin, abrasion-resistant stretch nylon and breathable mesh upper that wraps your entire forefoot to ‘Keep Stuff Out.’” This feature, no doubt a benefit once the VFFs are actually on your feet and in use, was really getting on my nerves for the putting-on part.
Despite the effort, once on, there was actually a lot of extra room in the toes, particularly from my third toe on down (my pinkie barely even reached the toe hole!). This lead me to two possible conclusions: 1) either my toes are stumpy or 2) these VFFs are too big. Opting for the "these VFFs are too big theory," I decided to give the 38s a try.
On so doing, I was quickly reminded why the word “overheated” is used to describe not just a temperature condition, but also a temper condition. In my fight to get the blasted things on my feet, I not only broke a sweat but nearly resorted to throwing the damn thing out the store front with some choice words! It just wasn’t going to happen. I was forced to conclude that my toes were, in fact, stubby - at least as compared to the KSO's primary demographic. In retrospect, perhaps one of the other models, such as the Classic, or the Performa or the Sprint would have solved my problems, but I was too tunnel-visioned to think of that at the time. I concluded that having the toe boxes be a little roomy wasn’t a fatal flaw - the hell if I was going to walk out of that store without my own pair of VFFs today! – so I settled on the 39s.
Now, let’s be straight. This is not the footwear for the fashionably self-conscious. I say “Very Freaky Footwear” for a reason. The image that first springs to mind is that one has suddenly grown a pair of multi-
colored hobbit feet (all you fellow die-hard Tolkien/LOTR fans might appreciate that). 
Nevertheless, and maybe even as a result, they do possess a certain je ne sais quoi appeal. I, personally, was enamored. Aside from the unusual sensation of so much unfamiliar material between my toes, they were remarkably comfortable and my senses quickly adapted to the new sensation. I took them for a test run on the store’s treadmill and immediately noticed that, without trying, I was running on the balls of my feet. I don't think I could have run on my heels if I wanted to (at least not without giving the other shoppers some unexpected entertainment when I subsequently ate treadmill)! While I am a proud mid-foot striker, this forefoot strike thing was a new and rather pleasant feeling. I felt a little like I was prancing (and my inner child loves to prance). Fun! I was sold.
Only a few short minutes later, with a spring in my step and a big, goofy grin sweeping my face, I departed the store a proud new owner of my first pair of Vibram Five Fingers. Boo-yah!
Enthusiasm is a great thing; it's my personal high of choice. But, as with any drug, too much of a good thing can sometimes really bite you in the bum…
No comments:
Post a Comment