Noticing with the Hoko One Ones

I was out running the Silent Trails loop today, as I often do now. And I have been really focusing on my breath and body sensations. I have become aware of how my thinking mind has influenced my running body. I am really coming into awareness about letting the exhale be my focus just as it is in meditation. I am finding more ease as I run this summer then I can remember. Just as in meditation when I notice too much discursive thought I label it “thinking” and then I return to the breath. And I am trying to do it when both good and bad thoughts come and stay for a while. It’s not that I try to stop thinking, what I am engaged in during this process is not continuing the conversation when I notice the thoughts arising. This is especially true when discomfort arises, such as when it starts to get hot on the trail. I notice that I’ll start to plan for shortening the route or I’ll internally comment on the distance to go or the speed at which I am running. And so my goal/intention during this time is to notice the underlying fear that comes up in all of these conversations, especially the ones involving being uncomfortable.  

Throughout today’s run I had been doing a good job of noticing thinking, returning to the breath, feeling with awareness what was going on in my body and letting go of the thoughts. Though it was starting to get warm I was closing in on 8 of the 10 mile course. I came through the forest and out to a small opening on the trail. The air was still and the sun was shining on the sand and rock covered ground. I noticed that the temperature had gotten warmer and I clicked on to how this area is usually hot at this time of the day. And then the shift occurred. I noticed that when I run this route the other direction this particular area is one of my favorite spots. When I cruz through here going the opposite direction I fancy this spot to be one that looks so Wyoming, so very Western. Going the other directions the rocks speak of the Rocky Mountains, the rise of the trail makes me think of horse back riding as a kid. But this direction I think of how hot the trail is and how much sun is radiating down on me. I don’t think of how iconic the trail looks, I see only the effects of the sun. And of course that’s the intention of the inquiry of yoga. What do I notice? I notice that from one angle I am running across paradise, from a different angle, I am running across hot rocks that reflect back the glare of the sun. 

And so, like Devarshi was talking about this morning with Kripalu, the geese and shit, or when I think about relationships or time on the mat or even the most beautiful trail in the woods, from one angle everything is wonderful and just as one would want and expect. But from a different angle that same object can be a source of resentment. And so for me it is the noticing; noticing judgement, notice the thinking, noticing how I am feeling and how everything looks different from the other direction. 

I decided to wear the old Hoko One Ones today. Its been a few months since I wore them last. I have been noticing some issues with the shoes. Did they lead to me having some shin issues while training for the marathon? Are they part of the reason I feel so spacey when I first set out to run? I have been enjoying and then paying the price for running exclusively in barefoot shoes and I don't want to stop putting in the big miles and so, I decided to notice how I felt while my "marshmallow" shoes today. I wanted to notice the dialogue between my head, my feet and the trail. And so for today I was into noticing the dialogue, the sensations, the feelings, notice the bones and muscles and notice throughout the practice how at different angles these same internal conversations, sensations, feelings and parts of the body can be so unique depending upon the angle of observation. 

The Battle for Authenticity

Note from the Field
6-17-13
The Battle for Authenticity

    Now my note starts on the 19th as I did not write on these other days. I was too busy being authentic :) to write.
    As I was running this morning I was thinking about my search for authenticity and how “stuff” has gotten in the way. And by stuff I mean gear; shoes, coats, sunglasses, the paraphernalia of my life.
    I don’t think my initial purchase of blue Tigers Marathons got in the way of authenticity but they were the beginning of a persona that I have carried with me since then. Or sure I had a pair of adidas antelopes way back in the dark ages but that was before I understood shoes and how they “made” one look to others. My little baby adidas spikes that I still have today also seem to have been lost on me. I don’t recall being conscious of their importance to my ego when I was younger. But the blue Tiger Marathons now there was the beginning.
    By having the “right” pair of shoes I was putting my faith, as Arjuna’s cousin **** did in Krishna’s weapons and not in Krishna himself. As I strolled around the Jr. High at the beginning of 7th grade with my shoes tuck into the yellow Tiger bag like the mighty arrow of victory neatly stored inside it’s golden quiver. I felt apart from the other students. Here was “I” the runner, the one who will win the races and elevate myself from my humble stage as a snaggle toothed, black rubber glasses wearing hack from the dirt road side of town. The yellow bag symbolized my knowledge of the trade of running. I was one of them; like the older boys in high school. Or the even cooler ones in college or at the international level of running. No matter that I couldn’t figure out math or even how the ruler worked in the beginning level drafting class, I was one to be known. And I did succeed.
     Then, the next year with even more hupspa I showed up with a pair of the latest nike waffle trainers. Red with a white swoosh, their thirty dollar price tag out of the reach of most, the shoes had come to symbolize what I wanted to be; above the crowd, not in your league. I was destined for greater races then this jr. high cross-country. And amazing things did come my way. I ran across the Grand Canyon, North to South in one day. I traveled, as I did the year before, to the National Cross-Country Championships. I was a successful road racer, not only in my home town but also in my region.
    And the need for the right shoes increased. And with the need for the right shoes came the problem of image. Having the latest shoes also meant standing out to other runners. Talking smack about their kicks meant I had to produce on the track or the field. As the boys in the region got faster and the shoes became more obtainable by all my ability to produce decreased. My self-esteem began to falter. I wasn’t winning and no amount of shoe or style was going to change that. Injury lead to not training. Not training lead to excuses. Excuses lead to lower self-esteem. I began to lose my self-esteem and the only thing left where shoes that I wore, lazy style with the laces untied around campus because I had put enough “cred” in the bank that I could get away with not producing.
    As time went on and I went away to college my shoe habit changed to fit my new image. Birkenstock clogs, original UUg boots, L.L. Bean field boots; so out of sync with Wyoming. I still ran and I still had some of the new technology the shoes companies where producing. I still checked into Runner’s World and their shoe guide. But I had lost my desire to run, I had lost my authentic self in a world of consumerism. The split had come, I didn’t want to buy running shoes and so I didn’t want to run.
    But, I have run. I’ve run through all of the changes that shoe companies have developed. I’ve run through road racing and trail racing. I’ve run through adventure and travel. I’ve run in all the countries I have visited. And today, like last summer I seem to be coming home to my authentic self.
    This last few weeks I’ve been mostly running in Vibram 5 finger shoes and New Balance Minumus and both shoes have taken me back to being “rooted” to my passion, my true self, my authentic me. And it is not so much the shoes as the trail and the focus and my time spent inquiring into me, inquiring into the shoes and figuring out who I am, was and hope to be. I am a runner. My feet hit the ground. I wear shoes that create a feeling. Today I was thinking of going on line to look at buying another pair of the Minimus shoes but I stopped and asked myself why? Why do I need another pair when the ones I am wearing aren’t even broken down. Why? Because shoes seem to make me feel like I am a runner. If I get shoes, if I get the weapons, then I can face the battle. But in asking that question I stopped. Like Arjuna, instead I sought the counsel of Krishna and I can see that letting go of the old ways, the ways that don’t serve me, are my weapons upon which I can work with my fears.
    Shoes hide my rootedness to the ground. By giving up the desire to own, I place myself in a position of being authentic to myself as a runner. I don’t need the newest shoes to demonstrate my place in the lead pack. I need only to run and reflect, to praise God for the amazing country side that I am able to trot through. It is on the trail, on the road, that I find my authentic self, not in the shoe store.  

gazelles on boards

I was out skiing today and shoes came to mind. Imagine that, shoes. When I was a young lad my brothers and I got fresh boards from Gart Brothers in Ft. Collins one winter. They were touring skies with fish scales. I'm still at a lose for waxing, even my skate skies are done for me by friends or at the local shop. I learned to ski across the street on the municipal golf course. I loved walking across the street and skootching across the snow covered grass. I could ski across the golf course then under the highway and access the back nine. My brothers preferred taking they Y bus to the Snowies for down hill skiing. The big hill wasn't for me.
One day the three of us headed up to the Jack and the abandoned ski hill. They took their down hill skies and I had my kick and glide rig. But, I forgot my boots. My big brother Ed suggested that I wear his addidas gazelles. Zowie, it was like wearing a pair of fancy Olympic ski shoes. Luckily the bindings   were 3pins and my feet were much smaller than the shoes. I cranked to binding down on the toe of the shoes and off I went. Later, of course, my feet were killing me. And, as was the case with the blue gazelles my socks were died a beautiful blue but at least I was skiing.
I used those skies until my sophomore year in college. I still look, now and then, for low top ski shoes for skating, but I don't think any would come close to the gazelles.
Just like shoes my sole has been dyed by the people I've skied or run with.
I skied up at the Jack today with Vicky. As we quietly skied side-by-side. Though we didn't ski much together I always enjoyed when we did. Our time together is coming to an end. But my our paths cross on the happy trails of the Jack.

Out and back with Matt

7-23-12

I was out running yesterday, in the noon-day sun and thinking about the trip we just finished to Jackson. While there I thought a lot about Matt and the time we spent running that week. It was another “Meen Ween” adventure in the van.

First we drove to Devil’s Tower so the Ween and someone long forgotten to me could climb the tower. Matt and I hung out down below. I remember being dressed in a cowboy hat and a turtle neck and standing at the base looking up. Not much more than that though.

And then we were off to Jackson so the same two could climb the middle Teton. The Ween was getting in shape for a trip he was going to take to climb a mountain in South America. Matt and I may have had a tent or we just slept on the ground covering in pine bows. I know that we had attempted that during the winter when we went winter camping with The Ween in the Snowies. The Ween dug a snow cave and we thought we’d be in there too but it was too small for three.

 On the middle Teton Matt had brought a plastic bottle full of Kool-aide. I remember that we broke into his stash and drank it all. Much later, as Matt was ending his career with us here on this planet I broke the news to him about the Kool-aide. “I knew it! I knew you mother fuckers drank my Kool-aide!” Often Matt and I talked about that trip to Jackson.

At one point, out on a run around one of the lakes, we started racing each other. Matt and I came of age when the Europeans were showing the Americans how to nudge and bump and we’d learn a few tricks about how to push a hipbone in or kick an ankle. The kids in our local races, and more specifically their coaches, hated us for these tactics. As Matt and I raced along one of the dirt trails I pushed in his hip flexer to get an advantage and he elbowed me in the throat. He got to the van before I did! Whenever Matt and I’d recount this tale of kicks and elbows we’d regale each other with the kicking match that took place after the Grand Canyon run.

From Jackson we drove to Green River and competed in a local road race “mini-marathon” (11.1 miles). In the newspaper clipping from the Green River Star dated Wed. June 7^th 1978 it shows Matt in the old American flag shorts wearing Nike Elites. The Meen Ween won the race in 1:06 wearing a pair of Elites also. Matt came in at 1:08; first in the 17 and under division. Me, wearing a beautiful pair of Nike Stings, came in at 1:11.

I was thinking about this race because of those Nike Stings. Those were beautiful shoes. The front part of the shoes was brown split leather and the back was grasshopper green nylon. With the big white Nike swoosh on the side and a gum rubber sole these shoes were different then the Nike Elite. At the time, everyone wore the Elite. But I found them to break at the heel cup and my Elites angled inward. Don’t get me wrong though, the Elites were an excellent shoe but the Stings, now, there was a shoe that was difficult to find.

That fall my brother Ed took those bad boys from me and raced for CSU in those shoes. When he returned them in the spring he had worn a huge hole in the side of the shoe. When I think about Ed’s form he ran like how the Chi and barefoot runners advise people to run today.

 We had a great trip that week. One of many outings I feel so fortunate to have been apart of. The Meen Ween is still out there, running around the globe. Me, I’m up in the woods running with RH and Matt, well, he’s got bigger fish to fry. 

Running with the toe shoes

I was out running in the hills today in the Vibram Spydrion LS shoes. Man, it was hot and smoky this morning. This summer I'm running in 3 different trail shoes. My "primary" shoes are the Brooks pureGrit. The second pair are the Hoko OneOne Stinton B's and the third being these Spydrions. Each pair is use for a different feel. The Hoko's are great for long runs that involve down hills, like doing the Silent Trail route. The pureGrit are excellent all around shoes.And the Vibrams are kinda like play shoes.
When I run in the Vibram shoes I'm reminded of those old mocs I made as a kid. Running in those shoes one must really stay focused on the trail as the rocks can really jump out atcha. This is not the case with the Hokos. With those big shoes I really feel spacy at first. Like I've had too much sugar when I start running. I reckon that is why the pureGrits seem to be the best of the three; I don't have to focus all my attention on every rock on the trail or feel like I just came from Dairy Queen. I can just move along. Except for the smoke from the FT.Collins fires I've had a good summer of running so far. It's nice to be back at it, though, I've never really left. I just found my groove again after so many years of hittin the juice box before or after running. Funny, it's probably been decades since that began.
I was thinking back the other day to old Kathmandu. I'd run around ring road in my Adidas marathon trainers. It was a way to do something, to get out and move away from Durber square and the H for just a little while. I traded those shoes for a Nepalis coat before going trekking and ended up wearing my Birkenstock clogs to hike the Annapurna trail. The gromlet that keeps the strap down cut a huge gash in my foot after the first day. I ended up wearing those crappy blue chinese sneakers the porters would wear.
Funny thing about shoes and me; I always think about them when I'm doing stuff.

In the beginning...

In the beginning I sewed my first pair of shoes. I'm not sure why, maybe it was all the Daniel Boone shows I watched. I think it was my dad that brought home the Naugahyde from work for me to work with, or I found it in the house. However it happened, I cut out the bottom and sides and hand stitched them together. They were white with a green floral print. I thought they were amazing.