A Personal Overview Of Barefoot-Type Shoes

The following is by no means scientific, but rather a personal insight from an ex-shod runner gone barefoot… gone holistic. This means I am not a hardcore evangelist for any particular type of running, although I am inclined to think the forefoot-strike approach is the desired running form for most runners, shod and barefoot.

Part II : Barefoot VS Minimal VS Neutral

The increasing mumbo jumbo of the industry makes differentiating the various types of shoes quite tenuous. Let me try and offer a bit of help by defining what I think characterizes each type.

A barefoot shoe is a barely-there foot protector that serves the only purpose of protecting the skin under your foot against the elements without getting in the way of your foot’s natural movement. The most famous of them, the one that started it all so to say, is the Vibram FiveFingers. Only runners with barefoot form (forefoot strike) and proper muscle build-up should use these on a regular basis. 

Transitioning runners used to neutral or mildly-structured shoes should start by wearing their usual shoes 70-80% of their training time, then end their training sessions either fully barefoot or wearing the barefoot shoe. Particular attention has to be given to pain and soreness and plenty of rest in between barefoot training sessions is advised. As structure builds up (I’d say about every three weeks to a month), increase barefoot time or distance by about 10-20% depending on progression. Increase all the way to full barefoot. A comfortable transition can take anywhere from 6 months to a year for experienced runners. Runners using heavily structured shoes and motion control should first transition to a neutral shoe using the same strategy, and then from the neutral to barefoot.

SIDENOTE. In my opinion, the absolute best way to learn barefoot running is to do it from scratch, or while recovering from an injury. Why? Because with lower effort capability, you’ll be much less able to do too much, too soon and will have to pay more attention to pain and body signals.

A minimal shoe is a sort of cross-breed between a neutral shoe and a barefoot shoe, in that it won’t shed all of the cushioning and structure of a traditional running shoe in favour of an all-out barefoot approach. Minimal shoes of decent quality should include a zero-drop type sole (minimal-to-no height difference between the heel and the forefoot), no motion control (absolute flexibility of the sole), little-to-no toe lift (the front part of the shoe will lay flat instead of curving upwards), low elevation from the ground and very light weight (4-7 oz). Minimal shoes include some (unspiked) running flats, Vivo shoes, GoLite, Inov-8 shoes and so on.

The following GoLite video is a dead-on example of what I mean.

Neutral running shoes are traditional running shoes making an effort at getting out of the way. That mostly means no motion control, lighter weight and a slimmer, flexible sole, but also significantly more cushioning than minimal shoes. The Saucony Kinvara, Nike Free, some Zoom shoes and many others fall in that category.

Some Road-Tested Shoes

Following is a list of shoes I have purchased and used, some more than others, and my appreciation of them. I’ll try to make this as objective as I possibly can. So here they are, in alphabetical order.

La Sportiva CrossLite

• Type : Minimal
• Use : Trail running
• Price : 100-120$

This is a very stiff sole for a minimal shoe, but since it’s a hardcore trail runner, I figure it’s necessary. This shoe has a very aggressive spike-type pattern that will grip in thick mud, on wet surface and on pretty much everything that comes your way. The top lacing is protected by a gaiter-type fabric that prevents pebbles and debris from getting inside. This is a very narrow shoe and has a snug fit; I wouldn’t recommend it to runners with wide feet. I use these only in hardcore trail conditions where I know I might end up landing on sharp rock tips or other barefoot-unfriendly trail hazards.

MEC Moque Boot

• Type : Barefoot
• Use : Winter running
• Price : 20-40$

This is my take on winter Vibrams. These slipper-like shoes are originally intended for water sports like kayaking. Made of thick neoprene, they are warm and isolated enough to allow barefoot-like running in winter conditions. They don’t get wet easy, which is a true blessing. The soles are made of soft rubber and offer decent grip; however they will wear out very fast if you run on anything else than snow. I recommend wearing socks inside. The absence of lacing makes it very important to make sure you buy the proper shoe size unless you want a BlisterFest.

Merrell Barefoot True Glove

• Type : Barefoot
• Use : Road running
• Price : 120-140$

I was very excited when these were announced late last year. These shoes are offered in many different versions, from casual to road and trail running. They feature a Vibram outsole and all you can expect from a barefoot shoe. The huge disappointment, however, is that the inner sole, more specifically the arch support, seems to have been misconceived. First of all, it is strange that a barefoot shoe has any arch support. But the worst is that said support is positioned several millimetres too far upfront, lifting the ball of your foot instead of the arch. At first I thought my feet were somehow not compatible with the design, but the issue was confirmed by a sales rep at a specialized shoe store and by several other customers as well. I am not saying the Merrell Barefoot are bad shoes, but I am seriously advising anyone who wants to buy them to try them out in store before doing so.

UPDATE. I have field tested the Merrell TrailGlove, for which I wrote a product-specific review.

New Balance Minimus

• Type : Barefoot
• Use : Road running
• Price : 110-130$

This is one interesting shoe. New Balance has really done its homework on this one. The Minimus features a Vibram outsole much like a FiveFingers, but without the individual toes. It has a very large front end that leaves plenty of room for your toes to wiggle, grip and move any way they like, while still offering a good fit through the lacing system. The shoe is feather light and extremely comfortable. I only have a couple kilometres in them so far, but I am very enthusiastic about them.

UPDATE. I have ran about 40KM in these shoes, 28 of which in a single trail run in easy conditions (light gravel paths, easy hills, etc.). I am very disappointed with the results. The Minimus is NOT a serious trail runner, the material of its outer sole ripped off inexplicably and the overall behavior of the shoe is, in my opinion, unfit for serious trail running. I will keep wearing them, but only for short road runs.

Nike Free +

• Type : Neutral
• Use : Road running
• Price : 100-120$

The Nike Free resembles a neutral shoe whose soles would’ve been put through a table saw. It features very deep lateral and longitudinal creases that make the rubber extremely flexible. The top is made out of mesh, which makes it very light and well-ventilated. The removable insole can be taken out to eliminate a layer in-between your foot and the ground and makes the shoe a little roomier for wider-footed runners. It is also compatible with the Nike+ system, a little microchip that you put into the insole and that connects with your iPhone / iPod Touch and serves as an advanced pedometer. Although two very close friends run in those and love them, I can’t say I like the Free. I find it bulky and very high to the ground, which eliminates my proprioception (how your foot feels the ground) and pushes me back into heel-striking. This is a shoe I have run about 50km in and won’t wear again for running. (it’s a size-7 BTW, so if anyone wants it it’s yours).

Saucony Kinvara

• Type : Neutral
• Use : Road running
• Price : 120-140$

To say I had mixed feelings about this shoe is an understatement. The Kinvara was the first runner I bought after going barefoot for more than a year. Although it has a significant heel-to-toe drop, the shoe is very light, flexible and seems to have been made to be worn without socks (a huge plus for me). I first wore them for a 10K, then a long run, after which I started having arch pains. I initially blamed the shoe, but realized it was I who had changed my running form. I have to say the arch section of the sole is stiffer than I’d wish and I think that, combined with the relative height of the shoe, is part of the reason why it’s easier to fall back to heel striking. As soon as I refocused on a forefoot strike at all times, the Kinvara became my shoe of choice when I needed a padded ride or to bring along in trips, when I didn’t know what surface I’d be running on. I have put hundreds of kilometres in those and will buy another pair when I need it. I just hope by then they have an identical model, but lower to the ground, zero-drop style. With all that said, I don’t consider running in Kinvaras barefoot running, but I think this is one great transition shoe and a viable option for any forefoot striker.

UPDATE. Saucony unveiled the Kinvara 2, an improved version of the original. It's even lower to the ground, which I think makes it an even better shoe.

Vibram FiveFingers Classic / KSO / Bikila / Komodo

Oh, my. I’ll try not to write a novel about these, but it’s going to be hard. The FiveFingers are in part what brought me to barefoot running. They are like the MacIntosh of running; those who use them swear by them (and often evangelize, all guns blazing) while nonbelievers scoff at their sight.

Although I cannot oversight the fact that the FiveFingers are largely responsible for the popularity of barefoot running, I have to remain objective about what they bring in terms of benefits.

The original FiveFingers (the Classic, the Sprint and the KSO) were no more than foot gloves. A thin Vibram outsole with laser-etched wave patterns that would open up and offer traction when your foot moves, topped by a ventilated fabric and a basic Velcro adjustment strap. And, of course, the individual toe pockets that made them famous. I initially bought the Classic on the misguided information that they were intended for running. They are not. They are closer to ballerina shoes than anything with their open-top style and they will wreak havoc on your top foot skin with their bungee-cord closing system. Ouch. I kept them for a while to walk around, but eventually gave them to a friend for everyday use. (On the same basis, I couldn’t honestly recommend the Sprint to any serious runner.)

I then got a pair of KSO’s, then another one. I have ran thousands of kilometres in those. As long as you stick to short and medium distances (say, up to a half-marathon), you should be fine with KSO’s if the ground is not wet. The grip is excellent, the proprioception is unparalleled and the protection for the underfoot is exactly what you need, no more. The problems start with the rain or when you crank up the mileage; the interior conception of the original FiveFingers is just too coarse. If your feet get wet or you run long distances, they will rip through the side of the ball of your foot, leaving a blister if you’re lucky or a bloody mess if you’re me. When going downhill on a longer outing, the separators between your toes will hit hard over time, giving you black nails and sore toes. Finally, the top of the toe pockets, mostly the one for the big toe, is made of a thin fabric that tears open quickly from the friction of your toe nail – more of an aesthetic issue than anything however. As for trail running, the KSO’s capabilities are limited. Frankly, there are terrains you just can’t run in these; coarse gravel and sharp rock tips are two examples.

As my barefoot experience was broadening and new products hit the market, I started thinking the FiveFingers would slowly disappear because of these flaws, plus the fact I’m not sure what the advantage of separated toes really is (considering the other Vibram barefoot soles in New Balance and Merrell, for example, that make you run on a thin, flexible sole that is just as good). That was until I tried the Bikila, and moreover the Komodo.

Looks like Vibram really paid attention to feedback from first-generation customers. They came back with a running-specific product, the Bikila, and a cross-trainer, the Komodo. Both feature a well-improved interior liner that feels as smooth as the inside of any running shoe, without adding bulk. The sole now features grip patterns that add a little more cushioning to the ride, a much-welcome improvement over the originals (after all, the idea of FiveFingers is foot protection; if you run on a nice, smooth and safe surface, you’re gonna do it 100% barefoot). The toe pockets have an improved fabric upper with tear-resistant material added. The overall conception of both these models has been greatly improved. I was so impressed with the second generation that I actually bought a pair, something I was doubtful about before trying them out.

After trying both the Bikila and the Komodo (I ran with one in each foot), I chose the latter. I felt it offered more comfort for long runs with its added removable insole and I preferred its double-strap adjustment and upper cushions over the rawer feel of the Bikila. The Komodo doesn’t feel bulkier and seems to offer greater comfort, plus the option of removing the insole should the need arise. I am looking forward to trying them over a long distance.

UPDATE. I now have ran several long runs in my Komodo's, ranging from 15 to 25KM, and even a 12KM mud bath of a trail run. They passed the test with flying colors.

SIDENOTE. As a barefoot runner, I try to avoid socks as much as the Plague. However, with the advent of more shoe-like barefoot shoes, some might be tempted to wear them with socks. I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but I’m definitely not going to recommend it. In my opinion, socks will only make your feet damp and add a layer of friction in the equation, multiplying the chances of blisters. There is, however, one exception. If you have to wear socks, for warmth or comfort or any other reason, I suggest the Injinji. It is a very tight sock with individual compressed toe pockets that literally morph to your feet. I have never had a blister wearing these, which includes runs from anything to 30K.

Soggy - Part II

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel my head is playing with me when I run. It makes passing time painstakingly slow or starts wandering off in daydreams and stupid ideas while my body loses the pace down to a slow jog. It makes things harder, you know, having to keep your brain on a leash.

I was finishing a long stretch of track by a large basin when the rain finally stopped. KM14. The harm was done, though; large puddles of water were everywhere, mud had poured from the surrounding trails. At that point, I wasn’t even trying to avoid them; it just ruined my stride and I was soaked nonetheless.

The race starts now, I thought to myself, climbing the first upward slope of the course. I’d started seeing some disappointed, suffering runners abandoning. Blue-lipped, shivering. I’d want to help them, put them back in the race, give them the energy they needed to pull it off. It makes me sad, but it also reminds me that this could be my fate at any point if I lose my focus. Nobody wants another Nike run like we did back in 2005.

2005.

One of the most emotional days of my whole life. A 21K ran on a knee and a half. As I recall the suffering and the living hell we went through to cross that finish line, my heart warms up. I think of Joel, Erin. I reach to the back pocket of my running tights and feel through. It sits right there. My Terry Fox dollar coin. I don’t hold dear many material things in this world, but this gift, received in the nick of time, is a personal treasure.

I’d clenched my jaws. Oooh that feeling, I know it so well. I just visualized; I reached inside of my mind to gather some strength and motivation, and did I ever find some. I come out of the hill strong, and I start picking up speed again. This time, I try to save some of the energy for the last stretch. My confidence is rising.

A pair of cops are under a bridge. They’re cheering as I pass, and I’m surprised to think this is probably the first time in my life I’m happy to see them.

Then I start to wonder, after all that “head time”, where in the course I might be now. I’d stopped looking at the markers a while ago and for some reason, I refused to take a single look at my stopwatch the whole race. I’m not gonna start now. Instead, I take this as something to look forward to. Soon enough, a big orange marker appears. Could it be? It says 17.

There’s a sharp turn and a bridge to cross, and a small crowd is gathered there. As I close in, I see a friendly face; Humberto is standing there in his rain gear, brave against the elements. I’d seen him two times already, in the distance, but this time I would pass right next to him. I look up. He’s smiling. He knows. As he raises his hand up for a much welcome high-five, a jolt of energy zaps my entire body. Hands clap. I roar. I feel like I’m flying. Thanks, brother, and can’t wait to be side by side in Ottawa :)

I stay in this moment for as long as I can. My legs are starting to stiffen and I know I shouldn’t be pushing at this point, but the energy’s overwhelming. This is something I’m gonna need to learn to control. It makes my stride uneven and my overall effort level curve look like a strip of bacon. Ooohhh, bacon.

I’m approaching a set of curves. I’m not recognizing the specific section of the track and I’m thinking it’s bad to have designed the last kilometers of the course to be so curvy. How the hell am I supposed to gauge my remaining effort if I can’t see the finish line?

There’s another orange flag. I get my head up. Oh my god. It says 1! This is it. I’ve done it. I’ve not only completed the course, I’ve got just enough energy in store to finish strong. I reach for my belt, grab my last squirt of gel – been saving it – and switch to my Rage Playlist. I’m gonna give it all.

Every step I take is longer, stronger. My arms start to swing frantically as I pass every single runner who’d passed me over the last couple minutes. This is going so well. The end is curvy and filled with large muddy puddles, gravel and loose crap all over and the runners are slowing down, afraid to slip or take a bad fall. I’m not slowing. I’m not afraid. I’m a fucking tiger.

Last curve. The asphalt resumes right beyond it. I expect the finish line to be standing right there, almost at arm’s reach. And then it hits me. Right there, all alone, another long, orange, stupid, motherfucking marker. Says 20. Like a 2x4 to the face, I come to the devastating realization that the “1” flag I mistook for the last marker was a wet, shriveled “19”.

It’s over. My lungs are burning, I don’t have a single ounce of energy anymore, and there’s still a kilometer to go. I think I’m about to cry. As I slow down to a mere jog, every single runner I’d passed so proudly flies by me, cranking up their last bit of energy to finish strong. I, on the other hand, is going to cross that line looking like a wet hungover zombie with concrete shoes.

Funny how thoughts of despair can carry you just enough hundred meters to make you see the finish line. As soon as it came in sight, I emptied of everything but the increasing stomp of my feet frantically rushing forward. One last look up, the arch is there. And a big surprise.

There’s a “gun time” display at the finish line. As I cross, it says 1h54!

At the summit of my adrenaline, after the hugs of victory and the satisfied smiles of fellow runners finishing their challenge, my day gets even better. I get my “chip time”. I double-check it, in disbelief. It says 1h51:30. I just achieved what I hope to be the first of a long series of personal records.

And I haven’t felt so alive in a long, long time.


I'll see you in Ottawa.

Soggy

An account of my first barefoot half-marathon

I’m standing at the starting line, among a couple friendly faces and a sea of jumping people. The air is electric. I check one last time that everything’s in place. My music, my food, my water. I still can’t really believe it, yet.

This is the big day.

Of course, it could have been sunny. Or warm. Or both. But the early spring weather was grey, humid, and cold. Really fucking cold. I waited until the last possible minute to take my street clothes off and put on my FiveFingers, trying to stay as warm as I could. People are walking around with megaphones, warning that the starting gun is about to go off. I take a deep breath. It’s about to begin.

Bang.

It’s overwhelming. The energy is so high, it seems you could fly. The long line of thousands of eager runners slowly starts to move, like a big jittery multi-colored caterpillar. Before I know it, the wave of movement hits me and my friends and we’re on the move. Don’t freak. Focus.

One last look at Kendra. She’s smiling. In an instant, I’m reminded why I’m doing this. For fun. I smile my teeth stupid and I get moving. It takes me less than five seconds to start feeling like I’m stuck in a herd of slow cows and I can’t fight the urge to speed up serious.

As I pick up speed, I know that this could be a fatal mistake. Giving in to the excitement, starting strong only to run out of fuel somewhere along the way. “Don’t jizz your shorts, idiot”. I laugh. It’s all right, I think, I’ll get the stress out of my system, warm up quicker, find my pace, and then cruise.

The first 100 meters wasn’t over that a light rain started coming down. Not much more than a little mist, at first, but enough to get me worried. Any accumulation of water on the track means I will have to endure soaked, cold, soggy feet for the whole race. At the first turn, there’s already a large patch of mud and gravel. The track is packed with runners. I can’t avoid it. I step in reluctantly, and instantaneously feel the mushy, cold mud rushing in. Suddenly, my cross-country training doesn’t feel so crazy or useless anymore...

Runners are looking at me funny. Some are smiling, others have puzzled looks of disbelief. I suddenly realize that of 3,500 runners, I’m probably the only barefoot dude, so I’m getting the same kind of looks runners who show up to races dressed as giant chickens or drag queens must get all the time. People in the crowd are nudging others, pointing at my feet. Some send me thumbs up, others seem to think I’m not going to last five minutes. I don’t like the attention. Breathe. Look forward. Find your pace.

The drizzle quickly turned into a shitstorm. The wind picked up, too, and the rest of my clothes rapidly matched the state of my feet. At this point, I made a decision; for what it’s worth, I’m giving it all. I’m not gonna try to save up some energy or run a restrained, controlled 21K. Fuck it. If these are the conditions we’re gonna get, I’ll run it to the top of my lungs, maximum effort, head down. At least I won’t be cold.

So I keep my speed up. Every couple minutes, I feel my energy crashing. I regret my decision to rely on SportBeans for energy, as the PowerGel seems to give me a much better boost. Hey, there’s nothing I can do about it anyways, I only have two pouches. It’ll have to do. I follow the advice from that nice girl at The Running Room (sip it). It works. I’m just afraid that every little boost I get is the last...

The distance markers start to go by. 7, 10. I look down, most of the time. Seems it took me forever to complete the first half of the challenge. I try not to think of the distance that remains. I know I’ve slowed down sensibly since a couple minutes, and my initial motivation is starting to escape me. I separated from my friends a long time ago, no one’s in sight. It’s me and the track. I feel alone. For the first time today, I’m afraid.

A little pinch on my elbow. Shaken out of my thoughts, I turn to see a little lady, shining a large smile at me. She points at my feet, gives me a “hang loose” and a wink as she passes. It is impossible to explain the feeling completely; it’s like she hosed down my worries and gave me a warm bowl of soup. I know, it makes no sense. But man, does that ever feel good. I love you for what you did, smiling lady.

I reached the 11KM marker in pouring rain and strong winds.

At least I was half way.


- Read on to part II -