The first edition of the weekly Runners’ Mailbag has arrived. Send me your running questions at [email protected] and I’ll answer them right here.
Why don’t you review Saucony shoes?
Because Saucony hates me. They’re the only major running shoe brand that won’t send me shoes to review. You hear that? That’s the sound of the world’s smallest violin playing. Sure, it’s a bit out of tune, but it still slaps. Oh, poor me, I know. But isn’t that batshit?
On this glorious website you’ll find shoe reviews on ASICS, Brooks, New Balance, Nike, HOKA, Mizuno, Topo Athletic, hell, even Diadora! (On doesn’t make size 15 shoes because they’re elitist scum.) But Saucony? Nope!
Who does Saucony think they are? No, I’m genuinely curious. Clearly, they’re not doing awesome financially. Poor bastards. I’d almost feel bad for them if they weren’t such snobs.
The great irony is, I’ve recommended plenty of Saucony pairs to friends and family over the years, and spent far too much of my own money on them. Sadly, they’re now dead to me.
Apparently, they must not need any more exposure, despite not coming anywhere close to dominating the shoe market. Hell, no one can even pronounce their name.
Or maybe they just hate big-footed runners. Yep, they’re fat foot phobic. Buncha bigots. You know what? That’s it: I refuse to wear Saucony shoes from now on!
Has the max cushion trend officially gotten out of control?
Oh, definitely. Shoes like the Nike Vomero Premium (55 mm/45 mm) and Adidas Adizero Prime X Strung (50 mm/43 mm) are the most ludicrous examples, but lace up any shoe today and the heel stack height likely hovers around the magical 40 mm. Just make sure not to exceed USATF’s 40 mm max stack height while racing or you’re a cheater! Just kidding, no one cares about you or what you wear.
Sometimes I wonder if what we’re doing in these behemoth shoes still qualifies as running. Perhaps it’s another sport entirely? I mean, sure, we’re still placing one foot in front of the other and frantically swinging our arms like morons. But if we’re wearing such cushioned shoes that we can’t feel the road, perhaps we need to reconsider the definition altogether. It sounds more like dollar store levitating without the low price.
So, how did we end up racking up miles in moon boots? My theory: the trend was started by vertically challenged male shoe execs who wanted to be taller without having to break their femurs as part of a leg lengthening surgery that can add up to 6 inches. Hey, spending $200 on a pair of platform running shoes certainly beats paying between $70,000 and $150,000 for the procedure. Yes, it’s a real operation.
But nothing was worse than the cursed minimum cushion shoe fad of more than a decade ago. You remember that shit? Of course you don’t. It was so traumatic you had to block it out of your mind. People were pretending they actually enjoyed feeling the road beneath their feet. Ugh, the thought of it sends shivers down my spine and makes my knees creak.
And don’t even get me started on the barefoot running craze. Not only did wearing Vibram FiveFingers make you look like a virgin, but they also broke your body. Talk about adding injury to insult (ba dum tss).
What’s the stupidest shoe name?
Where do I even begin with this one? That’s like asking, who’s the ugliest person in the world? Unfortunately, just like insane shoe prices, asinine shoe names are a dime a dozen. If only they were priced like that.
Take New Balance’s Fresh Foam X 1080v14. Forget the name for a second—why the hell is it so long? It’s a whopping four words! And it should really be five, but they make 1080v14 one word, for some moronic reason.
What’s more, New Balance is the only brand that names their shoes after numbers. And not just any number, but totally forgettable ones: 1080, 880, 860, etc. I suppose it’s better than their Fresh Foam MORE. More what? Foam? Please. I just got done talking about how every shoe and their mother has excessive foam.
But New Balance isn’t the only culprit. The aforementioned Adidas Adizero Prime X3 Strung isn’t only an obnoxious four-word shoe name, but the version number (X3) isn’t even the last word! Have you ever seen that before? No, no you haven’t. Because it’s illogical. I’d say it’s Adidas’s misguided attempt at virtue signaling, but the only signaling they’re doing is spotlighting their awful branding.
But yeah, you’ll certainly feel strung out by paying a wild $305 (before tax) for a shoe not designed for racing. Hell, it’s gonna make you want to string yourself up. Yikes, this got dark quickly. Thanks, Adidas.
Is running a net-downhill marathon to get a better time cheating?
Earlier this year, in their infinite wisdom, the Boston Athletic Association (B.A.A.) announced that the sky is blue. Basically.
After analyzing “studies and findings”, the B.A.A. boldly determined that athletes qualifying for the Boston Marathon at courses with at least 1,500 feet (457.2 meters) of net-elevation drop between start and finish receive a substantial time advantage over qualifiers from events with less than 1,500 feet (457.2 meters) net-elevation drop. Yep, water is wet.
So, what does this mean? Starting with 2027 Boston Marathon registration, qualifying results from any course with a net-downhill of 1,500-feet (457.2 meters) or more “will incur a time adjustment to results, (known as an ‘index’) upon being submitted for Boston Marathon registration.”
Ok, but what if the race is less than the 1,500 feet (457.2 meters) of net-elevation drop?
Let’s put it this way: any significant net-downhill race is far more of an advantage than wearing a shoe that exceeds 40 mm of stack in the heel. Yes, that includes the California International Marathon (CIM), with 366 feet of elevation drop.
But, what if I’m not trying to qualify for Boston?
Ha! Good one.
Alright, what if I don’t run marathons?
Slacker.
