Schuh ohne Ferse

[Trieike1987]

Hallo Zusammen,

hab mir gedacht um mir abzugewöhnen zu viel über die Ferse zu laufen einfach von einem alten Laufschuh die hintere Sohle einfach abzuschneiden und damit 1x pro Woche zu laufen.

Haltet ihr das für quatsch oder nützliches Trainingstool um die Technik zu verbessern?

Danke und Gruß
Eike

[eintrachthaiger]

Hallo Zusammen,

hab mir gedacht um mir abzugewöhnen zu viel über die Ferse zu laufen einfach von einem alten Laufschuh die hintere Sohle einfach abzuschneiden und damit 1x pro Woche zu laufen.

Haltet ihr das für quatsch oder nützliches Trainingstool um die Technik zu verbessern?

Danke und Gruß
Eike
Schau mal hier (http://www.natural-running.com/service/laufschuhe/tune-my-shoe.html)

[dude]

Was fuer ein Scharlatan.
Einfach Flats fuer 40€ kaufen. :Nee:

[canoxc]

Ja klar warum nicht.
Habe ich auch schonmal mit alten Schuhen gemacht.
Sohle abgeschnitten und Zehenbox aufgeschnitten, habe ich dann allerdings nur noch als Hausschuhe angehabt.

Wenn du keine Probleme hast würde ich aber so weiterlaufen wie bisher oder mal Barfuß (ok schlecht momentan ;) )

[dude]

Due to a complicated mix of insecurity and misanthropy, I gave up formal bicycle racing more than a decade ago. I kept reminding myself of this wise decision last fall, after the tight paceline set by the five other racers on my team destroyed my ability to consume solids and I spent 70 miles guzzling a sticky cocktail of Gatorade and Mountain Dew.

But I wasn't telling myself, as you might expect, that I'd never race again once I finished that day. I was thinking just the opposite: that I couldn't wait to do this again—because while we were racing as hard as I ever had back when I took it all too seriously, we were having more fun than I'd ever had in that era.

The Rapha Gentlemen's Race was a 137-mile, unsanctioned, invite-only contest to ride from Oregon's northern coast to downtown Portland as quickly as possible. Formally there was no race at all. The waiver we signed to gain entry mentioned only "the Activity," and Slate Olson, the founder of the Gentlemen's Race and Rapha's U.S. general manager, said those of us on the road were to be referred to as a "coincidence." (During last year's version, Olson says, a police officer who stopped and questioned him was highly skeptical that so many groups of cyclists riding in such an organized fashion could really be construed as a coincidence, but ultimately waved him on.) There were no road closures, just hot-pink hashes marking the course. There were no marshals or rules. The only obligations—outside of riding safely—were that each team had to pass through two checkpoints along the course and fill up a disposable camera, issued at the start, with snapshots from the road. Twenty-three teams showed up, from around the Pacific Northwest and from as far afield as Oklahoma and California. Every rider paid a $20 entry fee and got a T-shirt and a Rapha-branded church key. Every team had to contribute a six-pack of beer to the prize pool, which also included Rapha jerseys for the winners but nothing else.

Thanks to Rapha's significant alternative marketing savvy, the Gentlemen's Race is a well-documented example of the recent groundswell in similar events. Their very nature makes an objective and accurate count impossible, but unsanctioned, informal, underground races outside the governance of any officiating body are occurring with more frequency in every state and discipline—from road and mountain bike events to mixed-terrain adventures and the by-now classic urban, messenger-style alley cats.

Many demand far more of the rider than the average four-corner criterium or short-track circuit. The Trans-Iowa Race and the Dirty Kanza 200 stack multiple centuries on gravel-strewn country roads, while the Tour Divide spans weeks and two countries. Some unsanctioned races, like the Singlespeed World Championships and Single Speed Cyclocross World Championships, are as much about the party as the competition. But despite—or because of—this, top-level pros still partake. Giant's Adam Craig has podiumed at both singlespeed events. And team Kona's Twin Towers, Ryan Trebon and Barry Wicks, are stalwarts of the singlespeed cyclocross race (the latter in a gold-lame Speedo). Winners at both championships are rewarded with a trademark tattoo—better not win if you want to keep your hide pristine.

The Gentlemen's Race was based on a handicapped start, with the fastest team rolling off the line more than a full hour after the first one. Olson claimed that what he called his "proprietary" seeding system relied on the racing histories and bios of each team member. It was certainly an inexact science, because he rated me the equivalent of a Cat 2 racer thanks to the company I was keeping with Team Embrocation, the for-real racing team sponsored by the cycling journal published by Jeremy Dunn. Other teams included Portland's boisterous Team Beer (which lived up to its name with prerace—and midrace—pints), T-shirted singlespeeders the Eddy Merkins, and purposeful, there-to-win teams such as Nike's Livestrong and Mill Valley, California's Studio Velo. While a largely male affair, women peppered several teams; there was one all-female squad, Veloforma.

Embrocation was one of the last teams to depart, and despite never having ridden together as a discrete team, we began rotating through a paceline at a speed that just barely allowed me to notice the fogged-in coastline, farmland and 48 miles of chip-sealed roadway punctuated by waterfalls and sandstone cliffs. By the time we made it to Oregon's rolling wine country (where the Cars-R-Coffins team did the rounds of tasting rooms; in last year's race, they stopped at a strip club), most of us were zebra-striped with salt lines. A convenience store on the course had been kind enough to put out tubs of ice and drag out a hose. Fifteen-odd miles from the finish came the hardest climb of the day, an 800-foot, switchbacked demoralizer. It was the only point of the race where we faltered as a team and found ourselves stretched out over several hundred yards. Other teams pushed, pulled and cajoled their broken teammates up. I'm sure somebody walked, and nobody talked.

In the end, we passed a handful of teams, were passed by two others, and finished midpack, partly due to five flats. The winning team, largely composed of employees of River City, Portland's premier bike shop, included the long-retired ex-pro John Walrod, several serious racers (three men and one woman) and a recreational rider—arguably the most democratic team on the course.

At the post-coincidence party, the faces of the riders were road-weary but happy. Nobody looked disappointed or bitter. Joe Staples, one of my Embrocation teammates, said that the day was "the most fun I've had on a bike as an adult." Otis Rubottom, a member of last year's winning team and a victim of debilitating cramps this year, lauded what he called a "distinct sense of adventure," something he said he finds lacking in conventional racing. Frame builder Tony Pereira, a veteran big-mile bagger, simply said that the Gentlemen's Race was the "hardest day I've ever had on a bike."

And me? Well, I decided that it's official: I'm never racing again, unless I'm not.


http://www.bicycling.com/tourdefrance/article/0,6802,ss1-3-10-21646-1,00.html