Jonathan Beverly - Runners World Your Best Stride

The information in this book is meant to supplement, not replace, proper exercise training. All forms of exercise pose some inherent risks. The editors and publisher advise readers to take full responsibility for their safety and know their limits. Before practicing the exercises in this book, be sure that your equipment is well-maintained, and do not take risks beyond your level of experience, aptitude, training, and fitness. The exercise and dietary programs in this book are not intended as a substitute for any exercise routine or dietary regimen that may have been prescribed by your doctor. As with all exercise and dietary programs, you should get your doctors approval before beginning.

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To Tracy,
who continually inspires me to never settle for less than my best strides and who has always taken the journey with me

On a late-summer evening in 1999, I attended my first European professional track meet in Brussels, Belgium. I remember the setting sun slanting through the roof, the roar of the crowds, and the thrill of watching some of the best in the sport race. But what I remember most were the Kenyan steeplechasers.

As that event approached, several European and American runners were warming up, running along the track and taking the hurdles in typical fashion: jumping up, lightly touching the top, and pushing off. The athletes looked fit and comfortable with the challenges of the event, far more than I would be with tackling the high, sturdy hurdles of the 3,000-meter race.

Then a group of tall, thin Kenyan runners emerged. They floated along the track as if they didnt need to touch the ground, bounding over the hurdles effortlessly, like a herd of deer crossing a fence. They seemed to move in a different way than even the other world-class runners in the event. I watched in wonder at the ease with which they ran as much as at their dominance of the race.

Five years later, I was back in Brussels for the World Cross Country Championships. As competitors from around the world struggled through laps of a muddy field, one runner, Kenenisa Bekele of Ethiopia, floated in front, comfortably winning both the long (12K) and short (4K) race. More than just fitter and faster, he seemed to defy both gravity and the challenging footing of the terrain. His feet brushed the ground lightly. He accelerated smoothly and effortlessly, on demand, his legs spinning beneath a seemingly weightless body.

Ive been a runner since my freshman year of high school, way back in 1977. Ive had moderate success and stayed relatively injury-free. But as I watched the worlds best runners, in Brussels and elsewhere, I felt like I did something entirely different than them. Instead of floating, I muscled my body along, pounding the ground and working for each forward push. Photos of me midmarathon looked like I was racewalking, particularly compared to someone like Bekele or road and cross-country champion Lornah Kiplagat, whom I watched on video and tried to emulatewith little success.

Something else that caught my attention in Brussels in 2004: A blond Australian, Benita Johnson, won the womens long race over the heavily favored African runners. When I interviewed her afterward, she talked about growing up barefoot.

I rarely wore shoes as a child, she told me the day after her surprise victory. I grew up in the small coastal town of Mackay in Queensland, between Brisbane and Cairns. We lived outside of town, and until I went to high school in town at 13, I never even wore shoes to school. I had two brothers and one sister and we were very active; every day we were involved in sporting activities. We used to run up the sand hills on the shoreshort sprints, maybe 30 seconds up the hillsthen down into the ocean, then back up again.

Johnsons revelation added to my growing fascination with barefoot running. After a trip to Kenya in 2007where I saw the fabled children running to school and at play, barefoot, free, light, and fastI was more convinced that there was something important going on here.

I was not alone. Within the next 5 years, the entire running world became infatuated with barefoot or minimalist running. The answer, it seemed, to the question of why some runners move lightly and some plod along was to be found by paying attention to the feet.

Minimalism made sense to me. While I never became a raving barefooter, I ran barefoot strides and had the kids I coached running them. I focused on trying to land on my midfoot or forefoot and to keep my stride under my center of gravity.

Nike came out with their Free model in 2004, and they became part of my regular rotation of trainers. I tried on my first Vibram FiveFingers shoe at the 2007 Boston Marathon and started doing some training in them. I upped my use of the Vibrams after meeting Tony Post, then president and CEO of Vibram USA, at a conference in Austin, Texas, called The Running Event. One morning at the group trail run, Post, who is a solidly built, athletic man, was running comfortably in his FiveFingers. I fell in beside him, and we talked about his experience in the shoes for several miles. He was the first person I had met who treated them as running footwear, not as a training tool. Even taking into account his vested interest in broadening the shoes appeal, Post was a true believer and a convincing advocate.