Whatever. I run barefoot all the time.
Thirteen miles in the running log this week, and not once have I worn my running shoes.
Tuesday, I ran my longest barefoot run ever. Last night, I ran my longest run in huaraches (aka hippy shoes).
Still a day behind my training schedule this week, I need to make up for a four-miler I missed, and maybe I'll choose the bare option once again.
Last night's eight-miler with the Enthusiast biking along with me was kind of painful. The huaraches kicked up all the tiny pebbles on that particular stretch of the Towpath, and then I'd kick them in midair as I strode forward. I've never had the tops of my feet be sore like that after run.
Burn, Baby, Burn
This weekend is the Burning River 100, which was the original inspiration for the Summer Solstice Challenge of 2008 and 2009. Good luck to all the runners, especially the one who commented on my blog. I've promised not throw empty beer bottles at Joja Jogger at the 96th mile, which is at the bottom of R.I.P. Hill on Memorial Parkway. Don't die.
Wherein a single post for the week doesn't give us a lot of ammunition.
Ms. V. had a mini-freakout over my long blackout: "Please don't stop this blogging/running bit. I need the Viper to remind me of my blogging roots, having successfully leapt to the microblogging world of Twitter."
Answer: Don't worry. Somebody has to keep up with the anachronistic technology of blogs. That somebody is right here.
Happy Hour comes early this Friday, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!