Trusting Gravity

Walking home today at lunchtime, I shortened my stride and was disconcerted to find I was holding my breath. And when I exhaled, there was a moment of dizzy unsureness, alleviated only when my feet pushed deeper into the ground. So then I took lighter steps, experimenting with my tenuous trust in gravity's hold. Although I feel like floating, I'm still tethered to the ground; only my head feels like a helium balloon.

Until this week, I was feeling smug about my stride. Nice short steps with an enjoyable rhythm of heelstrike to the ground, ankle rolling forward, and then a slight lift off from the ball of the foot. Yes, I was running slower, which was fine with me; getting the form right feels more important than speed.

"You're walking differently," my friend N observed last Sunday, as we strolled leisurely towards the open air market on Government Street. I pressed her for more details; she would only add, "like a Masai".

The Masai walk long distances barefoot in East Africa. A Masai foot touches down on a sweet spot just in front of the heel, pivots fully on the ankle, and then pushes off from the ball of the foot. This makes for a uniquely springy stride and gorgeous posture. A Swiss company makes expensive footwear that claims to duplicate the Masai walk for Westerners.

Swiss MBTI, they are eclectically named; hideously expensive, they come with their very own video. I bought a pair of MBTI sandals in a fit of enthusiasm over a year ago, and never got around to wearing them last summer, because I couldn't find time to watch the video. Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I reluctantly loaded up the video. After some cursory footage of athletic Masai tribesmen demonstrating their brandname strut, a strapping, obviously Central European, bleached blonde in white lab uniform smilingly introduced apprehensive clients to their new MBTI shoes, while the video repetitively extolled their benefits in multiple languages. As the video ostentatiously points out, these aren't just shoes, they're medical appliances.

I strapped on my medical appliances last evening to run errands in Cook Street Village, and quickly found that my stride was way too long. Teetering along, I shortened the distance between landing and taking off, and found myself serenely gliding along at an impossibly slow pace. And of course I was holding my breath.

In anticipation of what? It's hard to stay light, float slow, trust inertia and gravity to play their part in keeping me upright, stable, and moving along. I see heavy joggers pounding the pavement, their feet, ankles, knees, hips absorbing the full punishing blow of all that impact. Something in us needs to push the river, gouge at the earth, gulp down the air around us, as if what we are given is not enough.

As I run, my body is learning afresh how to walk and breathe, letting old patterns surface and dissolve, hopefully to be replaced by new, lighter, more efficient ways of linking together musculature, ligaments, bone in articulated connection with the earth as well.

I get to test it out when I run a half-marathon in Vancouver this Sunday. I'm excited and a bit afraid. Hopefully, it will be more fun than pain, and I can remember to breathe and walk in between.