"I started running when I was 42 because I found footwear that I liked to run in. I always thought I hated running. Really, though, I just hate running shoes. I grew up mostly barefoot, and I just really hate shoes."
- Steve Kleindler
Runners don’t need a lot of clothing. Competitors in the Olympic Games in ancient Greece ran barefoot and naked. That tradition continues to this day. Sometimes it’s a planned event, like the assortment of "Bare Buns" and "Dare to go Bare" races, or sometimes it’s spontaneous, like when the beer is flowing and a Hash House Harrier decides to take advantage of the freedom of running trail naked in the woods.
I usually wear a little more than that when I run. Actually, I’m a little obsessive about my gear. I’m going to run no matter what, but wearing the right gear when I run makes running a lot more fun.
At a minimum, I put on a pair of running shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt before I go out. I have additional clothes piled up in a closet for the times when the weather requires it. None of it is particularly stylish, and some of it has gotten sort of ragged, but we’ve gone through a lot together, and I’m too sentimental (and cheap) to toss things aside while they still have life in them.
It starts with the shoes. The right shoe is a very personal choice, and it’s the most important choice a runner makes. There is an enormous array of shoes available, which makes it hard to find the best pair. A good shoe will make your running smoother, faster, and more injury free. But the wrong shoe is an expensive torture device.
When I was in high school in Vermont, there were few shoe choices available. It was before hundreds of thousands of people started running marathons and before running shoes became popular for everyday wear. The shoes that were available were all very basic designs. I ran in Nikes. Back then, Nike shoes had none of the Air or other expensive gadgets that they sell today. The Cortez trainers that I bought were just about the only thing available in the local sporting goods store. Their soles were only slightly thicker than the lightly used Boston racing flats and Americas spikes that I raced in, shoes that were handed down to me from teammates on the track team. Today, just the idea of running in something as stripped-down as the Bostons or a track spike makes my body cringe with potential pain.
When I returned to running in my early 30’s, Nike Air was in the air. The first shoes I chose were a pair of Nike Air Pegasus, partly due to the ubiquitous Nike marketing juggernaut and partly because of the sentimental attachment to the brand that I had from high school. Unfortunately, before too long one of the air bladders developed a leak, so I decided to try another brand. By this time, the running shoe market had exploded in size, and picking a shoe was more difficult. Consumer Reports recommended the Saucony Jazz, and since I wasn’t yet aware of how ridiculous it was to pick one "best" shoe for everyone, I tried a pair.
After I ran in the Jazz for a little while, I started showing some physical wear and tear. My issues started with plantar fasciitis pain in my heel, and moved on to illiotibial band problems in my right knee. I kept trying different shoes, looking for a solution. Some attempts worked better than others.
I figured that since I was getting more serious about running, I could justify trying the most expensive shoe. After all, the shoes that cost the most must be the best. So I moved back to Nike and up to their top-of-the-line model, the Nike Air Max. They had elaborate gas-filled bags in the midsole designed to provide durable cushioning and lots of it. In theory, since the shoes were extra durable, they’d last longer and I’d get my money’s worth.
In order to get that extra cushioning, I had to accept the Nike fit, which was too tight around the forefoot. When I started to wear the shoes, I got blisters on almost every long run. I stubbornly tried different pairs of socks, various kinds of padding, bandages, and Vaseline and other lubricants. I spent a lot of money on those shoes – they had to work!
Finally, I gave up on the cool shoes and started wearing shoes that weren't as "technologically advanced", but were wide enough for my feet. Now I replace my shoes more often, but I get many fewer blisters.
I’ve run in shoes from New Balance, Adidas, Asics, Reebok, Newton, Merrill, and Salomon, in addition to other models from Saucony and Nike. I’ve tried on shoes from even more manufacturers. Essentially, I’ve paid for a number of expensive shoe buying lessons. At times, it seems like I’ve tried every gimmick available on the market in the hopes that I’d finally find the tweak that would solve all my problems. Most of the gimmicks fail.
Even now, after numerous false hopes, I’m still on the lookout for the perfect running shoe. Lately, I’ve run a lot in Mizuno Wave Riders, a neutral shoe that has decent cushioning and an upper that gives to make room for my wide feet. But I still try other models. I’m like an alcoholic who tells himself that the next drink will be the one that finally makes everything better. Unfortunately, there is no miracle shoe that will resolve all my aches and pains.
I haven’t given up. If there is a perfect shoe out there for me, I won’t find it unless I’m willing to try new things. I guess I’m an optimist after all. Or just gullible.
Lately, I’ve been trying shoes designed to help get me off my heels and land more on my forefoot with my center of gravity ahead of my landing point. In theory, if I do this right, it’ll help reduce the frequency of my injuries. One shoe I’m trying has extra forefoot cushioning and very little heel cushioning. Another has hardly any cushioning at all. A rule of thumb estimates that an ounce of shoe makes a difference of about two seconds per mile to a racer. That adds up to almost a minute per ounce for a marathon. That’s just the sort of advantage I’m looking for, one I can get without any need to train harder or longer. These shoes might be another waste of my time, effort, and money, but if so, it won’t be the first time.
I try out a new shoe model for a while before using it in a race. Any problems with the shoe are magnified under the extreme stresses I subject it to when I’m racing.
Whenever I do find a good shoe, that’s when the shoe company changes the design or discontinues the model altogether and forces me to start my search again. I’ll always be looking for the right shoe for as long as I keep running.
I usually have at least three or four pairs of shoes going at any one time. I always have a couple of pairs of whatever my main running shoes are at the time so I can alternate between them when I run. My shoes last longer when I allow enough time to let them dry thoroughly and let the cushioning decompress between runs.
Some people recommend that you alternate slightly different models of shoes when you run, so you subject yourself to slightly different stresses each time you run. In theory, this reduces the risk of repetitive strain injuries. In practice, I have enough trouble finding even one shoe that I can run in comfortably, so once I find one that works, I stick with that model.
In addition to my main shoes, I keep at least one pair of trail running shoes around. These shoes have outsoles with a tread designed to provide more traction on slippery surfaces and a firmer midsole/outsole combination for more protection when I’m running on rocks and other rough surfaces.
I always have at least one additional pair of shoes. They’re the shoes that seemed like a good idea when I tried them in the store, but turned out to be wrong for me once I took them out for a longer test run on the roads. A key to avoiding injuries is to identify those poor shoes as soon as possible and get rid of them. Unfortunately, I'm too cheap to throw a $90 pair of shoes away immediately. I'll keep them around for months, and give them multiple "last chances" before I finally give up on them.
Another key to avoiding injuries is to get rid of worn out shoes instead of trying to squeeze a few more miles out of them. I keep track of how far I’ve gone in each pair of shoes in my running log. Knowing how long it took to wear out earlier pairs of a shoe model helps me judge when it’s time to replace my current pairs. There's another rule of thumb that says a shoe is good for about 500 miles, but I usually find I’m better off if I get rid of them before then.
I always take the time to turn my shoes over and shake any debris out of them before I put them on. Otherwise, I'm likely to end up with a blister caused by a small piece of gravel or twig in my shoe from my previous run.
I used to wonder why the tops of my feet hurt after I had been running for a few miles. I added cushions, and that helped some, but finally I figured out that I was tying my shoes too tight. My feet swell after I’ve been running for a while, and if my laces are too constrictive, they cause pain. But if my shoes are too loose, my feet slide around inside them and I get blisters. It took me a long time, probably longer than it probably should, to get the laces right.
I use my running shoes for running and nothing else. My expensive shoes break down much faster if I wear them all day. I wear an old pair when I’m walking around. My shoes always have plenty of life left for walking after I’m done running in them.
I go through new running shoes a lot faster than I use the old ones up for walking, so I donate the extra pairs to charities. The mistakes that I can’t run in are especially good candidates for donation, to ensure I get rid of them before I hurt myself trying too hard to get my money’s worth out of them.
I run in whatever shoes I’m currently using year-round, no matter what the weather. Unfortunately, choosing the rest of my clothing isn’t as simple. I need to pick the right clothing for each day’s weather to maximize my running enjoyment.
One of the interesting things about running is how it changed my relationship with the weather. 75° (Fahrenheit) and sunny is not a beautiful day anymore. Instead, it’s too hot for a good run. On the other hand, 48° and cloudy is not just a cold and dreary day, it’s also a great day for a long run.
When I started running, it was springtime and I was only running a couple of miles, so I could get away with wearing cotton gym shorts and a t-shirt. Then winter came, and I started buying clothes specially designed to keep runners warm. Now I have closets full of the stuff. Whether it’s 85° and sunny or -40° and windy, I have whatever I need to go out for a run.
The longer the run, the more important it is to choose the right clothes. Good running gear fits properly and is made so there are no seams, labels, or rough materials in a place where they will grind against my skin and make a rash or draw blood. If I plan ahead, I can use Vaseline or some other anti-chafing lubricant to guard against excessive friction. I can put band-aids on my chest to avoid the dreaded bloody nipples. But I’d rather get clothes that don’t cause problems in the first place. It’s no fun to get in a shower after a run and have the hot water hit a raw spot. It’s even worse if the friction is bad enough that I notice it while I’m still out running.
Most of my running clothes are made from synthetic fibers with a weave that wicks sweat away from my body and helps the sweat evaporate faster. Synthetics dry faster when I’m done running, and smell better while hanging on my drying rack. And the synthetic fabrics that running clothes are made from usually don’t wear out as quickly as cotton.
The right materials help keep me dry, but no matter what clothing manufacturers say, there’s no such thing as a miracle fabric that is both wind-proof and breathable. Back when I started running, I lusted after one of those Gore-Tex suits that promised to keep me warm and dry in all kinds of weather. I found one on sale for half-price and bought it, but I was disappointed. It worked great to protect me from wind, but it was usually too warm to wear in rainy weather. I had a choice - go without the jacket and be wet from the rain or wear the jacket and be wet from sweat.
The Gore-Tex suit wasn’t a complete waste of money. It wasn’t warm enough by itself in colder weather, but for many years it served as my outer layer on cold, windy days. In retrospect, I should have known. How can any outfit keep wind from getting in, but still let water vapor out? Air molecules are much smaller than water molecules, and are much less likely to attach themselves to nearby surfaces.
The best I can do is to try to manage the balance between wet/hot and dry/cold by choosing my clothing. When it’s hot, I want to maximize air flow to increase evaporation, to keep myself cooler and dryer. As it gets colder, I need to reduce the air flow to stay warm, but I still need to carry as much water away from my skin as possible, and I need to let that water evaporate, or else my clothes will get soggy. But if I allow too much vapor to get out, that lets the cold air get back in.
My gear goes through a lot with me. I get emotionally attached, and I keep it longer than I should. I kept that Gore-tex jacket until all the waterproof coating had worn away and there were huge rents in the side where the water bottle belts had worn through. I’d probably still have it if the pockets hadn’t torn open. Another time, I accidently melted my first polypro hat in the dryer. I searched and searched until I could find an exact replacement, though there were lots of other hats readily available. I guess I wanted to make it up to that hat’s family or something.
For some reason, I often find perfectly good winter hats while I’m out on a run, maybe because of the respect I paid my first hat when it died. A trip through the laundry and into the pile they go. I’ve also found a couple of pairs of expensive Oakley sunglasses. When I’m spending my own money, a $12 pair will do just fine, but free isn’t bad either.
I live in New England, and I run when I travel, so I need many different outfits to deal with all the possible weather conditions. Luckily, once my friends and relatives figured out that running clothes were usually a good gift idea, my supply of gear built up quickly. I’ve reached the point where I don’t actually need new stuff that often.
The few times I do buy something, whether online, in a store, or at a race, it’s usually discounted. I splurged and paid the full, somewhat exorbitant price for a jacket at my first Boston Marathon and a fleece shirt at my first Vermont 50, but I don’t actually run in those. Their sentimental value as mementos of major events and the effort it took me to get there outweigh the cost and their usefulness as running gear.
As I gathered more stuff, it became important to have somewhere to keep everything so it didn’t take over my living space. When I bought my first house in 1994, I found an old armoire in the basement that the previous owners had left behind. That armoire made an ideal running closet. I’ve used it for that ever since, taking it with me through a divorce and three moves.
I keep a drying rack and a shoe rack next to the armoire. That’s enough storage space to keep the gear I’m currently using organized in one place in the house. The off-season clothing gets stored in the basement. Sometimes a pair of tights or a jacket will find its way into another part of the house for a while, but Ruth understands when that happens. Her gear doesn’t always make it back where it belongs either.
I’ve got:
Did I say I had enough clothes? Maybe I understated things a little.
I don’t insist on fresh clean clothes on every run, except for socks and jocks. I don’t always smell great, but I don’t have to do laundry every other day either. When I do get around to the laundry, I never use fabric softener or dryer sheets. The chemicals stay in running gear and clog the weave, reducing their ability to wick sweat away. I’m too lazy to separate the running clothes so I can use fabric softener with my regular clothes, so we just live with the static cling. Unfortunately, synthetic running clothes are especially static-y after going through the dryer.
When I first started running in the winter, I wore too much. I bundled up enough so that that I was fairly comfortable when I stepped out the door. But when I warmed up after I started running, I’d get too hot. I’d start unzipping and taking things off to cool down, but by then I was already sweaty. When I let the cold air in, I’d be cold and damp instead of hot, and I’d get even more uncomfortable.
Over time, I learned that I could get by with less clothing. I’m still adjusting my choices. Every year I wear a little less when I go out for a run in the cold. I suffer a little more at the start, but that just encourages me to get going and generate some heat. Still, if I have any doubt about how to dress, I always err on the side of "too warm". I can unzip or take layers off once I’m out, but I can’t add anything if I’m too cold. And when it’s really cold, my only concern is making sure I dress warm enough.
Socks and jocks are simplest to pick. I can wear the same ones in all types of weather.
I always run in socks made of synthetics, never in cotton or wool. They’re medium-thickness, with a bit of extra material at the ball and heel where there’s the most stress. Thicker socks don’t provide any real additional cushioning, and my feet always generate enough heat to stay warm no matter how cold it gets. Some people prefer to run in thin socks or no socks at all, but I get more blisters that way. I’ve tried fancy double-layer socks, but they bunch up and cause more blisters than they prevent.
I always wear a jock strap. Even more than the rest of my running gear, my jock needs to be made with smooth materials and seams so it doesn’t chafe, especially around the pouch. Regular jocks for football or baseball won’t work. I had a favorite brand, but they went out of business and I had to search the Internet for a replacement. I found a number of web sites with a wide array of jocks, briefs, and thongs for athletic use. After perusing these sites for a while, I couldn’t help but notice that there was another use for these that I had been oblivious to. Besides keeping men comfortable during exercise, jocks are also good for "lifting and holding you forward when you go out for a night on the town." I only wear my jock while I’m running. In the unlikely event that it happens to attract anyone, they’ll have to catch me.
About half of all runners couldn’t care less about jocks. They have a different concern, one that I’m unqualified to write about. My friend Sarah Fisher, a women’s running coach and an experienced runner herself, had this to say about sports bras:
"When I became a runner, I discovered the sports bra and its many ways of humbling a woman. A sports bra is every woman’s most important and valuable piece of athletic equipment, a necessity regardless of her size and shape.
"Bouncing boobs are both uncomfortable and attract WAY too much attention. The compression bras that are really tough to get into – and out of – do the best job. How did I finally find the right sports bra? By asking other women and trying on numerous styles until I found one that did the job. A few contortions removing a sweaty sports bra pale in significance if the blasted thing does its job. Now I can run with minimal bounce, while attracting minimal amounts of hooting and finger pointing, and without feeling like my breasts will rip right off my chest."
The rest of my outfit depends on the weather. When it’s warm out, 60 degrees or over, I wear as little as possible. I’m a guy, so there’s no illogical cultural bias that forces me to wear a shirt on a hot day. Even so, I usually wear one, mostly to keep my water belt from grinding against my skin, but wearing a shirt also lets me go into stores, bars, or restaurants when I need to find a bathroom.
My tops are made of special materials that "wick away" sweat and help keep me cooler. The advertising claims might be true this time, for all I know. I suppose a good singlet might make me a tiny bit cooler than bare skin. The weave in the singlet presents more surface area to the air than smooth skin does, and that could increase the rate of evaporation and do a better job of keeping me cool. Still, whatever wicking that occurs can’t matter all that much. I sweat enough that anything thin enough to be comfortable is completely soaked through within a short time.
I try to avoid running when it’s really hot, 80° or more with a strong sun, by running early in the day or late at night. But sometimes that’s not possible. Some races are held during the day in mid-summer. If it’s a long race, like the SRR 24 Hour Around the Lake Relay, I actually wear more. I cover my top half with a light-weight, light colored (preferably white) long-sleeve shirt and one of my desert caps with the neck and ear flaps. The white clothes reflect some of the sunlight and keep me cooler, the same way a Bedouin’s robes keep him comfortable in the desert.
When it’s hot, I avoid cotton or any other materials that absorb water. Cotton is soft and comfy when it’s dry, but when it gets soaked with sweat it gets wet and heavy and it chafes. If the temperature gets below 60°, that’s cool enough so I can get away with wearing cotton t-shirts on shorter runs. Sometimes I’ll wear a t-shirt if I like the message printed on it, or because it reminds me about a favorite race or a PR effort, but usually I wear t-shirts just so I can conserve laundry by wearing yesterday’s shirt on today’s run before I put it in the wash.
When the temperature drops to around 50°, I start worrying about being too cold. A long-sleeve shirt is usually warm enough. Sometimes I’ll layer a short-sleeve shirt over that. Cotton shirts work surprisingly well for this second layer. The first layer carries my sweat away, and then the cotton layer soaks it up. The sweaty cotton actually helps block any wind. As long as I keep running so my body heat keeps the inside shirt warm I stay comfortable.
The colder it gets, the more important it is to choose the right outfit. I have three different types of long-sleeve shirts that I’ll use for a base layer. As the temperature gets lower, my long sleeve shirt gets thicker. When it drops into the 40s, I start using the mid-weight shirt. Into the 30s, and I add my nylon wind-proof vest as an outer layer and start wearing a lightweight hat and gloves.
Around 30°, I start using my "windproof" fleece jacket for my outer layer. Windproof fleece has a tighter weave so it blocks more air, though not as much air as a nylon shell. Regular fleece lets too much air through to use as an outer layer. By itself, the windproof fleece is still not warm enough if there’s a strong wind, but in most weather it creates a good compromise between wet and cold.
The trick is to have a thick enough layer of wicking clothing so there’s room for a temperature gradient between me and the outside world. I want sweat to pass through to the outside where it can evaporate, so I’m not weighed down by soggy clothes. But I want to trap enough heat so my body can keep the inner layer of sweaty clothes warm. I know I’m wearing too much when it’s below 40° if I can stand outside comfortably for more than a minute or two when I’m not running.
I have a thin, uninsulated, windproof shell for times when it’s windy enough to be a problem. I can use that as an outer layer more often than I can use an insulated shell. If I need more warmth, I can always add another layer of fleece underneath the shell.
It usually gets warmer during a three-hour morning run, so clothes that were just right at the start are too much by the end. During any run, the sun comes and goes, hiding behind trees, buildings, or clouds. Winds rise and fall and swirl from all directions. The effective temperature can change 10-30 degrees or more in the course of a run. It takes judicious use of zippers to stay comfortable.
My legs generate a lot of heat when I’m running, so dressing my lower half is less complicated. I wear shorts until it gets down around 40°. When it gets colder, I replace the shorts with spandex tights. Some people find that spandex reveals things they’d rather not reveal. Tights add warmth without too much bulk, and that’s more important to me than what I look like. I add shorts over my tights, but only when it’s cold enough that I need to keep important things frostbite-free.
When it gets even colder, the layers get thicker. I live near Boston now, and the ocean keeps it from getting really cold most of the time, but I grew up in Vermont, where it gets bitterly cold on a regular basis. The coldest weather I’ve gone running in was in Vermont when it was 20 below with a wind chill of -40. I was fully decked out, wearing:
I wore my normal socks and running shoes. My feet never get cold while I’m running.
I could barely move with all this stuff on, and the ice that formed on the inside of the neoprene mask from the moisture in my breath got pretty nasty, but I was warm enough to get my run in.
In a cold weather race, I wear a little less than usual since I’ll be running hard the whole time. That makes it very important to time my pre-race warm-up correctly so I don’t spend much time standing around sweaty and cold before the race starts.
Most of the time, rain is nothing to worry about. My body heat keeps me warm enough as long as it’s above 50°. The only change I make when it’s raining is to wear a visor to keep the rain out of my eyes. Anything that’s really waterproof is too uncomfortable to run in. I’m going to be wet with sweat, so rain is just more water.
When it starts to get colder, I’ll wear a little more than usual in the rain to ensure I stay warm. A water-resistant layer won’t keep me dry if there’s more than a sprinkle of rain, but it’ll be wind-resistant enough to trap some body heat, especially important if I have to stand around in the cold while I’m wet.
My least favorite running weather is when the temperature is in the upper 30s and it’s raining. It comes as a relief when it gets a little colder and the rain turns to snow.
Some runners strap cleats on their shoes when they’re running in snow or ice, but I don’t bother. The cleats are uncomfortable to wear on hard surfaces and don’t help my traction that much. I just run more carefully when it’s slippery.
My clothes are a random mix of styles and colors. Choosing running clothes based on appearance always seemed pretty silly to me. Why should I care if I'm color-coordinated when my hair is pasted to my head with sweat, crusty dried salt is all over my face, and I smell like a gym locker? I worry about having bright clothes with reflective patches that are easy for drivers to see, not whether I’m running in gear with matching colors and labels from the right brands. Clothes are for protection and comfort. And I always want to get my money’s worth out of my clothes. If I were concerned with appearances, I’d have to replace my clothes before they wore out, rather than wearing them until the rags fall off my body during a run.
The only clothing item I bought for appearances sake is my running club singlet. When I’m going to a race, I wear my club singlet even if I have to wear it over thick layers of winter clothes.
I do have one rule regarding style. Whatever I do, I do not wear the commemorative shirt from a race in the race! That would mark me as a new runner, and is just not cool. If you aren’t going to wear a club shirt or technical running shirt of some kind, shirts from other races are OK. Any of these are better than the shirt from the race you’re running:
Any of these shirts provide entertainment for other runners and give you something to talk about.
I wear my club singlet during the race, but I’ll break out one of these after the race, when I change to dry clothes. The shirt from the race I’m in stays packed away, unless it’s the only dry shirt I have. Of course, there are other kinds of shirts that aren’t from races, but I have so many free race shirts that they’ve driven most of the other shirts out of my closet.
I go through all this because the right clothing helps make running fun, even in bitter cold. In 2007, my high school friend Mark was training for his first marathon. He was running Vermont City in the spring, so he needed to train through the winter.
Ruth and I visited Vermont a little before Christmas that year. We went out with Mark for a 15-mile run one Saturday morning. It was -2° when we met near the airport in Berlin for our run. It wasn’t windy, so we put on our thick layers of polypro and fleece, and skipped the wind layer.
It was a beautiful day with a bright sun. Soon after we started running, we were warm enough to be comfortable. Two colors dominated – the blue of the cold, clear sky and the white of the unbroken expanses of snow that covered the fields. The grey stubble of leafless maple trees on the mountains and the drab rundown rural houses added a dour touch, but there were other splashes of color – Ruth’s bright orange hat, the Christmas decorations on the houses, and the dogs frisking in the snow, hoping to play as we ran by.
We powered along, chatting or listening to the crunch of the light layer of snow beneath our feet. The only visible clouds were frozen vapor from our breathing. Our clothing kept us comfortable most of the time, though we felt a chill every time we passed through the shade cast by thickets of trees.
By the time we were finished, we each had an extra layer of icy fleece woven from the crystals of sweat that had wicked to the surface. Ruth had lacy tendrils of ice coating the curls of hair peeking out from under her hat to accent her outfit.
A week later, Ruth and I were in Florida visiting her mother at Christmas time. It was 85° and sunny. That wasn’t bad either.