Thoughts on Minimalism:
As many (or not so many) of you know, I recently completed my first marathon in May. To my surprise and delight, it was an amazing experience. The rush of pain amounted to a foreign rush of joy. Nothing compares to crushing through the wall of limitation. Nothing.
While the 26.2 was an unforgettable experience, my goal isn’t to marinate in the fulfillment of the accomplishment. Rather, I am here to talk about shoes. And no, not in a diva “oh-my-gad-I-love-shoes” way. As a matter of fact, shoes aren’t necessarily the object of my focus today. They are the medium through which I mustered up a thought provoking realization.
Back to my story.
Filled with motivation and excitement, I began running shortly after the marathon. And by shortly, I mean two days later. Realistically, I should’ve waited longer before I thought of running. But let’s face it, I’m stubborn and a big sucker for waves of excitement--even at the cost of my own body. (I’ll work on that). You may guess what the next part of the story is. Go ahead, guess…
A fiendish twinge in my right knee appeared two weeks later. At first, it was merely a twinge. Later, it debilitated me. Now, I’ve been through injuries before, and they’ve gotten easier to deal with. But not by much. Truth be told, my name is Amy and I am an endorphin-holic. Getting cut off from physical movement is a little short of devastating. But I managed.
2 weeks went by. The knee took its sweet, precious time to make any improvement. I still couldn’t run well, but I tried. In fact, I remember the night. It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights--the smell of lush green grass, sporadic fireworks bursting in the sky, a warm breeze, and a hobbling weirdo (me) on the sidewalks.
The Nimbi, my babies, failed me. Nimbi was the name of my cloud-like, gel cushioned, fluff pillows that separated my feet from mother earth. How could they fail me now? They had already gotten me through an entire marathon, and then some. Did they get tired of me? Did I do something wrong?
Reminiscent of Forrest Gump when he shed his leg braces, I ripped the Nimbi off of my feet and threw them into a bush. Hello mother earth, we meet again. It’s been a while.
That night, I ran barefoot for four miles. Like infants awakened from a long slumber, my calves screamed. And my poor feet blistered like mad. But I ran 4 miles. More than I’d done in three weeks.
Since the reunion between my feet and the earth, I’ve made a brave and somewhat skeptical transition to minimalist shoes. Of course I am working on my form, but I’m like rambunctious child anticipating something to blow up on account of my own foolishness. It’s been two weeks and my knee feels much better. The other day, I slipped on my Nimbi again to give them one last chance at redemption. They are now sitting in a big pile of “returned shoes” at the shoe store.
Beyond running, I cannot help but wonder if minimalism is a better way of life. Are plush, overdeveloped shoes a microcosm of a larger issue? Are the less-than-necessary commodities we surround ourselves and feed ourselves with like the Nimbi--feel good, look good--but forces that separate us from our nature intended selves?
Will the minimalist route wield the most success? Only time will tell. But for now, it feels really great to be running the way my body was designed to run.
