Six months in the World's Fastest Shoes

Back in the day when I was actually able to convince people to pay me real money (albeit, not very much real money) to race, I would laugh along with my teammates at how the masters riders had better bikes than the us pros. After retiring from cycling and getting a real job, this started making a lot more sense. I still can't bring myself to spend $12,000 on something I used to get for free, but I now understand that masters riders aren't idiots who think that a great bicycle will transform them into great riders. They simply have the money and enjoy riding the best thing out there. It's two orders of magnitude cheaper than buying the best sports car.

Nope	Meh	Yup

Another two orders of magnitude cheaper than the bike is the Nike Vaporfly 4%. Runners almost immediately sorted into two camps when these were released. Some were incredulous that these $250 shoes wouldn't even give you 100 miles of use. Others were intrigued. Could these shoes really be that much better? Only the truly naive would buy the 4% claim (I'm pretty sure I can run at 96% of my speed in dress shoes), but even half a percent would be a full minute in a marathon.  Half a percent sounds possible. As I'll get to below, a minute really matters at my level.

So, since I had already invested $1500 in the form of entry, travel, food, and lodging for the Chicago Marathon. I decided to add these to the bill and find out for myself. You can read about that race here. I've also already posted a race report for the final race in the shoes, the Little Rock Marathon, so I won't go into either of those here. Instead, I'll fill in the data points in between those two and then make some general comments about the shoes.

Gumbo Flats 10K (USATF Ozark Championships)

Run October 20, 2018

As one might gather from the name, this race is absolutely flat. A good portion of it is inside Spirit of St. Louis airport. I have no idea how they got clearance for that. Sure, it's just a regional airport that runs mostly freight and charters, but still, these are real jets taking off. The lack of elevation doesn't guarantee that the course is fast as this is the section of the Missouri flood plain that runs straight east-west. If the the normal prevailing westerlies are strong, it can be brutal. Today, however, the air is fairly calm and temperatures are also conducive to fast running. Despite coming only 13 days after Chicago, I feel like I should be able to turn in a decent time.

Apparently, "Who is the USATF Ozark Region 10K Champion?" is a question nobody was asking; the field is not particularly strong. I probably wouldn't care, either, but I did join USATF this year with the hope of doing well at the 100-mile nationals (I didn't). When the 5K runners peel off just past a mile in, I find myself alone in fourth place. I stay there the rest of the way. As I'm not wearing a watch, I don't have any splits, but the effort feels right and even the whole way. I finish in 39:15, which is a bit off, but seems like a good outing given the short rest. I take home hardware for the age group as well as the Ozark Championship (the three ahead of me weren't USATF members).

Tower Grove 5K

Run October 27, 2018

With another week of recovery, I try another flat course, and this one is better sheltered from the wind. Also, this race seems just anonymous enough that an 18:30 might get the win. No such luck as one of the local High School cross country runners who missed out on going to State decides to burn off his late season fitness. I do manage to stay in front of everybody else and cross the line at 18:35 which is as fast as I've gone in a while.

West Tyson Orienteering

Run November 10, 2018

For those who have never been to West Tyson County Park, it's pretty much the opposite of a paved road. Incredibly steep hillsides covered with loose rock juxtaposed with mud on the flood plain. Obviously, I don't wear the Vaporfly's for this one. I include it only as a confirmatory data point that my fitness is really good throughout this whole exercise. I win this one outright by a fair bit and, while my navigation is clean, it's clear that it was my speed through the woods that carried the day.

Frostbite 10 mile

Run December 29, 2018

I enter the full 5-race Frostbite series, but only intend to run the 10 and the Half as competitive efforts. The other three will be marathon pace runs. I don't like marathon pace running; it's hard enough to be uncomfortable, but not hard enough to really bear down on it. Of course, that's why you have to do them: so you don't overcook the first half of a marathon. Anyway, I find it easier to do them in a group setting and a mid-range length race is a great venue since those around you are generally trying very hard to run even splits.

Back to the task at hand, the 10 is supposed to be full-on race effort. A friend of mine upgraded to a super-fancy GPS watch and sold me her old one for cheap, so I have some idea of my pace as I'm running this. It doesn't help much. The legs just aren't there until the last three miles. It's not a terrible performance, 66:24 and first in Age Group, but I had hoped for a minute faster. Still, the last three miles were really good (6:20 pace), so maybe it just took me a while to get my head back into competition mode after two months without a road race.

Little Woods Ultra

Run January 5, 2019

As this is a trail race, I don't wear the Vaporfly's. However, several have asked for a race report on this one so, here it is.

The Little Woods Ultra (I still call it by it's original name) has been rebranded as Last Man/Woman Standing which more accurately reflects what it is, but seems a lot less poetic. It's a roughly four mile loop and you must present yourself (presumably standing) at the start line at the top of every hour. Obviously, this is pretty easy for the first few laps, but it doesn't take too long for that to become a tough task. At least this year the weather is nice. So nice, in fact, that I'm regretting my pledge to stop at 50K to preserve my marathon training. If there was ever a January day when running deep into the night seemed like a good idea, this is it.

The first six laps go exactly as planned. While the optimal strategy for this race is to take lots of walk breaks to save your legs for later laps, I'm running each lap straight through at normal training pace. That has me hanging around the start/finish for over 20 minutes between each lap. I take the opportunity to catch up with friends and eat lots of stuff from the pot-luck aid station (the entry fee for the race is to bring something to share).

The seventh lap brings marathon distance and one of those transcendent running experiences that simply can't be explained; it can only be lived. Still, this is a race report, so I'll do my best. I'm leading with two right behind me. We've all been at it long enough that nobody feels the need to talk. At one mile, there's a hill and I decide to lift the pace ever so slightly. The other two follow. Having found a comfortably firm rhythm, I hold it. As the next mile passes, well, this is where it gets hard to explain. The best I can do is to say I leave this world for a while. I'm cognizant of the fact that my body is running through the woods, but I am merely observing that fact, not participating in it. I'm cognizant of the fact that I'm putting out a fair bit of effort, but I feel nothing. This isn't any of that "Runner's High" BS. Endorphin release happens on every long run and, frankly, the thrill of that wore off years ago (though I still don't mind it). This is true separation of conciousness from sensory perception. It's not my first experience with it, but it only happens every few years, so I treasure it when it does. Adding to the joy is a feeling that this is a shared experience. While we are silent aside from breathing and footsteps, we are joined in our detachment. As we exit the trail and come into the finish three abreast, I see that my intuition was right: my companions are positively beaming. The race director probably thinks we blew off the lap and spent the time smoking something.

Lap eight is an anticlimactic, but otherwise pleasant finish to the 50K. I'm again the first one in, though this time I'm on my own as the other two called it quits at the marathon. There are only nine people left and most of them are saving their energy for what promises to be a long night.

I should stop. Going further will likely cost me at least a week of marathon prep and I'm already using a compressed 12-week schedule to get ready for Little Rock. Still, I feel really good. While I don't think I could go too much further at my current pace, I'm quite sure I could go all night taking lots of walk breaks. Did I mention the weather is super nice? I decide to run another lap.

I have to run it reasonably firm to get back before dark. I feel great. But, now I have to stop. I didn't bring a headlamp. Ultrarunners won't stand for that lame excuse and I immediately have several thrust into my possession. I line up for lap 10 along with seven others. The lap claims a couple who can't make the time cut. I go very slowly, alternating walking and running. If I am going to be out all night, I'd better start conserving energy. Laps 11 is also quite slow; I finish with only a few minutes to spare.

I decide on 12 that I should firm it up just a bit lest I really mess up and miss the cut. Then my brain checks out and I just keep running the whole lap, finishing in 42 minutes. As we line up for 13, I find out that was a big mistake. The RD announces that this lap will still get the full hour but, starting with 14, the lap time will be reduced. While going to 55 minutes doesn't sound like a problem, when it goes down to 50 on lap 15, I might be in trouble.

I try my best to recover on 13, walking nearly half the lap and finishing with just a couple minutes to spare. Only three of us take the start for 14.Rene White and Brian Tober have been running together all day, consistently knocking out laps in the 50-minute range. We run together to the hill at mile 1 and I let them go. I alternate walking and running the rest of the lap to finish in 51 minutes, but I'm noticing that my stride is getting sloppy.

I'll have to reduce the walking to make the cut on 15 and I decide that, while that's probably possible, it's also getting pretty likely that I trip or roll an ankle or do any of a dozen other stupid things that happen when you're trying to run at a time you need to walk. The marathon is still the goal and, while I definitely am going to lose a week of training, I haven't hurt myself. Yet. I decide to call it a night. As they have separate awards for men and women, Rene and Brian simply have to report to the line to get their respective wins.

Maybe one of these years I'll try to run this race right. Probably not, though. I really enjoy it as a fun run (if one is allowed to call 56 trail miles a fun run). Plus, there's no guarantee that running it smarter would result in the win. All three times I've run it, there's been at least one runner looking quite ready to go on the start line as I packed up my stuff.

Frostbite Half

Run January 26, 2019

I did lose a week of training as expected but there were no other adverse effects from extending Little Woods. The Frostbite Half is my last chance to get a really good read on fitness going into Little Rock. I run it as a dress rehearsal: getting up three and a half hours before the start, having my oatmeal and coffee, going for a three-mile shake out run that finishes two hours before my warmup, heading to the start, and starting my warmup 40 minutes ahead of the start. It's a rhythm that has served me well in races where I am trying to hold a specific pace (that is, marathon or shorter; I run ultras entirely by feel and have a much less regimented pre-race).

It's well below freezing and we are warned about ice on some of the turns. I press the course marshal on that because the Vaporflys have pretty much zero traction on anything other than dry pavement. He concedes that it's just frozen puddles in the gutter and I decide I'll wear the fast shoes and take some wider lines.

As we pass the first mile marker, a beep from my wrist reminds me that I now possess a watch (it's been a couple years since I've had one). 6:22. Well, that's a bit fast, but probably not a race killer. Just ease up a bit. Second mile: 6:23. That's not really easing up. The third mile has a hill, so it's hard to know if the 6:35 is a proper pace correction. The fourth mile in 6:21 confirms that it's not. Well, at this point, the damage is done, so I might as well just hold onto it as best I can.

I hook up with Larry Wang who I think might be 50 (this shows how fried my brain is only a third of the way in; I've forgotten that I'm now 55 and don't need to worry about 50-year-olds). When he lays down a tailwind assisted 6:12 for mile 6, I decide I'm going to have to let him go. As we turn back into the wind for miles 8 and 9, I find myself closing the gap again. I put in a surge to catch back up so we can work together. We stay together through 9.5 at which point I go to pieces on a short climb and loose contact for good. I go through 10 at 63:47; nearly three minutes faster than four weeks ago. I'm actually on PR pace.

I honestly thought the days of improving on my best times were behind me. It's enough motivation to get me through the final 5K in 19:44 to finish in 83:31; nearly a minute faster than my previous mark. The first mile pace turned out to be exactly spot on; I just wasn't ready for it.

It's Gotta Be The Shoes!

No Mars. (Those not getting the reference, can search YouTube for a fairly amusing ad campaign from the 80's).

So are these really the world's fastest shoes? It would seem so. Like just about everybody else who as actually raced in them, I've never felt anything like them. A few years ago, Adidas put out a shoe that had actual springs in the midsole. The IAAF banned them as providing mechanical advantage. Nike is basically doing the same thing, but getting away with it because the "spring" is the midsole foam itself and all midsoles have some elasticity. Anybody can build a springy midsole; the trick is to get it to spring in the right direction. This is accomplished with a carbon fiber plate (hence the cost) that transfers the force forward so you get the energy back as you're rolling from mid to forefoot ahead of your pushoff. Companies have been putting plates of various sorts in midsoles for decades, so the whole setup is deemed a difference in degree rather than a substantive design change even though the result is quite extraordinary.

But, how much faster? 4%? Get serious. 1%? Not in my experience. Half a percent? I'll concede it's possible but even that sounds just a touch high. I did all my quality workouts in my old racing flats. I've become pretty good at predicting race times from workouts. I think it shakes out something like this (+/- a second or two per mile):

Race	Deviation (seconds/mi)	Notes
Chicago	0, maybe a second fast	6th AG
Gumbo Flats	+10	4th OA/1st AG. Recovering from Chicago
Tower Grove	0, maybe a second fast	2nd OA/1st AG
Frostbite 10	+6	1st AG
Frostbite Half	-8	1st AG
Little Rock	+10	7th OA/1st 40+. Really bad conditions

This wouldn't pass any reasonable test for significance but, it's also a pretty small data set. The two "bad" results have nothing to do with shoes. Lack of recovery and just terrible nasty weather, respectively. The not great and really good results in the Frostbite races are a lot harder to explain away. The other two are good, solid runs in line with expectations. This seems consistent with what Nike's elite runners have been experiencing. Generally, they run about the same as they have been but, every now and then, they crack off something truly special. It's happened enough that both the full and half world records have been broken (by less than 1%) by runners wearing the Vaporfly in the last seven months. So, I'll go with half a percent with the caveat that it doesn't always work out that way.

What does half a percent really mean? As a 55-year-old who runs around 3 hours, a lot. I was less than a minute behind fifth place at Chicago. That was the last official age group award. I was less than a minute ahead of the second place masters runner at Little Rock. Both times at Woodlands I finished 3rd masters and I've always been within a minute of either second or fourth. At Pensacola (my best ever overall placing at fifth), I had one runner less than a minute ahead and two less than a minute behind. At Milwaukee, I was less than a minute faster than the second 50-54 runner. I could go on, but you get the idea. The top masters runners are generally packed in pretty tight and it doesn't take much to shuffle positions.

There are downsides. The obvious one is cost. It's an expensive shoe that doesn't last very long. After a mere 85 miles of  racing (plus at most a dozen more right before and after races), the outsole is shredded and the midsole has lost the characteristic spring which is the thing that makes the shoe so fast in the first place. Granted, unless you do A LOT of road racing, you won't get a much more competition out of any other racing flat. All midsoles harden and go dead in less than a year regardless of mileage. However, I've always used my racing flats for hard training runs as well, which adds another 200-300 miles of usage. The Vaporflys are definitely competition only. I was advised to not even break them in before Chicago other than a 1-mile jog to make sure they fit. As you can see from the photo, they are in way worse shape than my previous racers that have nearly four times the miles. Lest you think that, being a heel striker and all, I'm particularly hard on shoes, I've included a $50 trainer from Payless Shoes that is still going strong after 800 miles.

$2.50/mi	$0.27/mi	$0.06/mi

The other problem is that they are really slick. There's almost no tread and the outsole compound isn't particularly sticky. They're fine in the dry, but in the rain at Chicago I really had to be careful to not step on the painted walkway stripes that are on almost every turn. It wasn't just me. A lot of folks in the 3-hour range were wearing them and you could tell that the runners with orange shoes were losing a step to everybody else every time we went around a corner. At Little Rock, they felt slick on the big downhill which was wet. I don't think it cost me any time there, but it was a little unsettling.

What I haven't seen mentioned in other reviews (so maybe it's just me) is that these shoes are incredibly comfortable. Normally my feet are a little sore after a road marathon in super-light flats. On a few occasions, they've been a lot sore. Not at all with these. My feet were sending me happy signals every mile I raced. So much so that, despite the fact that they are clearly played out performance-wise, I'm going to wear them for the 6-hour at LX3 next month. They may not make it all the way through the race, but at least I'll be comfy for the first few hours.

Will I buy another pair? Well, certainly not immediately. I don't have any road marathons coming up, unless you count Heart of America which is really more like an ultra. And, while the past six months have been fun, I am trying to step back from competition and treat running more as an activity. I'm not doing a very good job of that and the shoes don't help. Pulling them on is like picking up a bright orange flashing sign that says, "I'm here to win."

Then again, winning is fun.

Little Rock Marathon

Run March 3, 2019

Somewhat related to the Trappings of the Rich is the Call of the Elite. When you turn in a big result, like a top-10 Age Group at a World Major, there’s a very real impulse to leverage the resulting street cred into something tangible. It’s not that I actually need any type of assistance – I have a perfectly good job – it’s just a silly urge borne out of a society that equates material with validation. No matter how many times you tell yourself you don’t care, the honest fact is: you do.

As crossing the line ahead of everybody else makes a much better photo op than accepting an age group award, equipment companies lost interest in me quite some time ago. Race directors, on the other hand, do like to have some fast folks in their age groups. So, after scoring the above-mentioned top-10 at Chicago, I start looking around for an elite invite. I don’t have to look very hard. I’ve been wanting to run Little Rock for quite some time, and it looks like I’d have a legit shot at winning Masters (40+). When they come back with an invite, the search is over.

Bridge over the Arkansas River

This is where the trappings come in. While an elite invite doesn’t carry any contractual obligation to run well, it seems a bit lame to accept one and show up with anything less than your A-game. With only 21 weeks between Chicago and Little Rock, there isn’t time to recover and then put in a full marathon prep cycle. I give myself 8 weeks of unstructured training and then do my best to boil my normal 18-week cycle down to 12, leaving a final week of rest. Two hard cycles so close together carries more than a little risk of overuse problems but, with the exception of a really nasty cold two weeks before the race, the training goes basically according to plan.

Saturday is pleasant enough that I walk the mile from my hotel to packet pickup and also wander around downtown a bit. This is my third visit to Little Rock. I really like the town and not just as a destination. I could see myself happily living here. I’m not suggesting that’s likely – I like St. Louis quite a lot as well – it just has a vibe that feels right to me.

Sunday, however, brings cold rain, a stiff breeze, and some sleet thrown in for good measure. The forecast calls for the precipitation to clear so, after a fair bit of consternation, I decide to go with shorts. I warm up wearing a plastic garbage bag as an outer layer. I keep it on even as the elite field is led out to the start. Once at the line, I run a final couple of striders and then ditch the bag just a minute before the gun.

Considerably less pleasant race morning

The half marathon course is basically the first half of the marathon. Both fields start together on the riverfront, so there’s no easy way to know how many of the thirty or so runners that blow by me in the first half mile are in my race. I don’t generally pay attention to where I’m positioned until midway, so I’m not worried about it. By the time we hit the first mile (in 6:44) on the bridge across the Arkansas River, the early sorting is done and I’m running even with the people around me. After a short loop around the Argenta district (named for local silver mines), we cross back over the bridge. Both passages are exposed to the full force of the wind and I’m glad to have them behind me early in the race. We then head east past the Clinton Presidential Library for an out and back during which the rain and sleet stop.

Nearing the turnaround, I get to see the leaders from the front and can tell from their bib color which are in my race. By my count, I’m in tenth place which is in line with expectations. I’m right on 6:45/mile and this race usually has around a dozen folks under 3 hours. While the pace seems right, I’m getting signals from my body that it is not sustainable. I ease up a bit and hit 9 miles in 61:30, which is about 30 seconds slower than I’d like for a sub-3 and can already feel things tightening up from the cold. Knowing that all the major obstacles come in the second hour, I don’t fight it: I let my pace slip again to around 7:00/mile figuring I’ll just get on it as best I can once the hills are behind me.

Volunteer support is more than adequate and none of them seem particularly put out by having to stand around in the cold waiting for us to show up. In addition to the official aid stations, there are numerous home grown efforts offering everything from donuts to fried chicken. Given the conditions, there are a surprising number of spectators along the route. I still haven’t adjusted to the relatively recent practice of printing names as well as numbers on race bibs. Every time I hear someone yell “Go Eric!” I wonder who I know in Little Rock that would be out cheering today.

As we weave a serpentine route through some urban residential areas, I’m running with Aaron King, who I find out later lives in Ithaca. Had I known that at the time, we might have had more to talk about. As it is, we’re both just happy to trade sheltering each other from the wind, now that the half marathoners have peeled off. We go through the half in 90:37 and I comment that the sub-3 is definitely not happening today. He says that he had held out some hope, but with the big climb still to come, he agrees that it’s slipped away.

The course passes the Capitol and then gets down to the real obstacle of the day. Starting with a stern half-mile grade at 15, we get a brief respite before getting hit with another solid mile of climbing to the high point of the city, more than 300 feet above the river. It’s a very pretty section of town and the road winds gently, a small mercy that shields us from having to view the whole climb at once. Mile 16 takes nearly 8 minutes and 17 isn’t a whole lot faster as we try to recompose ourselves on the smaller rolls atop the ridge. Then we plummet down the other side towards the river, giving all the elevation back in less than a mile. My quads shriek in protest despite my best efforts to land each stride gently on the steep downhill.

Aaron pulls a few yards ahead as we get back onto flat ground. More precisely, I fall back a few yards. My legs are shot. I push a bit to catch back up, but then drop back again as a steep overpass takes us over some train tracks to the river’s edge. There are still seven miles to go but we don’t get any more hills until right at the end, so I try to find some sort of pace. Nothing really hurts; there’s just no power left. The cold has taken all the snap out of my legs. And now it’s sleeting again.

Aaron catches the next runner ahead of us who is faltering rather badly. Aaron slows down a bit as he passes him and I manage to catch up once again. I remind myself of a maxim that has served me so well in races that threaten to go bad: “Before you try a slower pace, see if a faster one works.” It does. It’s not much of a lift, but by maintaining the pace that allowed me to catch the other two, I suddenly find myself pulling away from them. Mile 20 is 6:55. It will be my last under seven minutes today, but it’s done the trick. The last 10K will be slow, but it won’t be a disaster; I’m sure I can run this in.

What I don’t know is how well everybody else is going. We’re heading out to a turnaround just past mile 21. I don’t have to check bib colors this time, I can just count runners. Everybody looks a bit haggard, though it’s clear the top five are out of reach. Sixth place also looks like a stretch, but seventh is only about 30 seconds ahead and appears to be coming back. After making the turn, I can see that Aaron and maybe as many as four others are within striking distance from behind, but none of them are charging. I resolve to focus only on catching the runners ahead. It’s hard to believe that I’m actually improving my position while running 30 seconds per mile off pace. The conditions have definitely sapped the kick out of the field.

At 22, I make the pass for seventh. There’s nobody ahead in sight; the motivation for the remaining miles will need to come from within. Mile 23 is on a bike path while the runners heading out to the turn are on the road. Only a few dozen runners have passed so this is still basically the front of the field coming through and an awful lot of them look shell shocked. Mile 24 is back on the road and I get lots of “looking good” comments from the thickening crowd of oncoming runners (I’m sure I don’t look good). After a short stretch back on the bike path I pass through a very enthusiastic water stop. I’m still focused ahead, but I do check my watch when I hear another big cheer behind me; it seems I have about 45 seconds on my next pursuer. Back on the road again, there’s a substantial hill up to 25. The change in stride actually helps quite a bit. The downhill sends my quads into fits again and it’s immediately followed by another stout climb. The half-marathoners join from the right with half a mile to go. There are a fair number of them, but they generally stay on the right side of the road, so it’s easy to get by staying left. I finally catch sight of sixth place, but he’s still twenty seconds up the road. Maybe I could catch him in another mile, but I’m fine with the fact that the race ends before that.

I cross the line at 3:07:23. Not a time I’d normally be proud of but, on this day, on this course, I regard it as a pretty fine effort. It’s good enough for the Master’s win but not by much. The next 40+ runner finishes with Aaron, less than a minute back, so tying the go faster thing at 19 was the decision that carried the day. And it reinforces something I’ve held for a long time: there comes a point in nearly every race where the safe decision will cost you the win. Victory means staring into the chasm of defeat and realizing you may not escape, but there is no other way across.

But, perhaps that’s just a tad melodramatic. This is, after all, just a thing we do. And, to drive that point home, the happy finish line volunteers hang the world’s most ridiculous finisher medal around my neck and the weight of it nearly sends me to the floor. It’s a trapping of the rich: too much bling.