So, apparently, there is a set of people that think running only counts if is over distances greater than 50 miles. Then, if that wasn't enough, there is an entire tribe of people in northern Mexico called the Tarahumara, that spend their entire lives running. They have supposedly figured out how to incorporate partying with ultra distance running events.
Let me get this straight - they stay up all night drinking beer, and the next morning they consume chia seeds and pinole, then embark on a 50 to 100 mile trail race in the Copper Canyons. Hmm..athletics & alcohol..you got my attention. I should read more.
It is the last weekend in July, and Michelle & I decide to go camping at Tomoka State Park, just on the other side of the inter-coastal waterway at Ormond Beach. Determined to keep on my self imposed running schedule, I brought along all of the necessary stuff. I had finished a Thursday afternoon jog on the beach, and the plan was to do a three miler Saturday morning before the heat really kicked in. I got up around 8ish, ate a banana and started to get ready. Michelle got up and decided she would ride her bike along side and offer support. I smiled best I could, while thinking to my self - why?? - not that I didn't want her involved. It is the fact that I wasn't planning on having a bunch of fun and knew what my temperament would be before it was over. No good could come from this. Well, I finished that one ok, and looking back, it was sorta cool having her along. As my weekend "long" runs start to increase in distance, it might be cool to have her along.
As usual, the humidity was up and I was sweating like hell. I decided to rinse off with the outside shower and got on my cruiser bike and rode the course I had just ran as a cool down. Upon my return to the camper, I killed a bowl of cheerios and took a brief snooze in the AC.
It is High noon and way to hot to leave camp and go to the beach, so I decide to read more about the Tarahumara. I go outside under a tree and proceed to sweat my ass off reading a book about running whilst nursing a 16 ounce beer. (I wanted to be in the right frame of mind). It is a very interesting read that brings together the tribal runners, as well as stateside ultra marathon runners. What separates this book from most I have attempted is that it does not rehash techniques and methods, but deals with the history of humans and running, and focuses on how these select group of people have embraced running to the point that it is not only enjoyable, but almost erotic.
There is also ample history and revelations concerning the running shoe industry. It turns out, while the industry keeps churning out the latest and greatest support shoe with ever increasing price tags, running related injuries keep increasing at the same or greater pace. It seems the more you artificially support you foot with these shoes, the less they are capable of doing on their own. Its like a welfare system for you feet, to draw a social corollary.
In fact, there is a movement afoot (couldn't help myself) to run barefoot or with a glove-like shoe that is the next best thing, but protects your feet from thorns, glass and such.
As I was reading all this barefoot running stuff, I looked up to see a couple of kids running down the campground road - barefoot as hell with their shoes (probably a parent requirement) in hand. Sorta drove home the point.
At this juncture, my beer is nothing but a dead soldier and I am completely soaked with sweat, as are the edges of the pages from sweat running down my arms. Good thing this is paper and not a Kindle. I was actually considering one of those things, but how well would they hold up to Florida humidity and sweat? The people in the advertisements that are using it on the beach and outside don't sweat, I guess. Friggin merchants of cool!
But I digress...
No comments:
Post a Comment