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.