Number 6 - Run in Hokas

Of all the things I knew prior to January 1^st that I wanted to do for the first time this year, none caused me more anxiety, more apprehension or more cause for deliberation than what I did today. 

I’m making a special notation in my running log to mark the occasion: January 25, 2014 - I finally ran in my Hokas.

You see, I’ve had my pair of size-10 Hoka One One’s (that would be the official name of the shoes) in their original box in my closet since September.

September of 2012.

So you may be wondering why they’re making their first appearance today. 

What can I say?  I like to live on the edge, and what better time to run in Hokas for the first time than 2014, my Year of Living Dangerously. 

Let me back up for a moment.  I’ve been having a variety of physical ailments and impairments ever since running, walking and crawling 100 miles through some God-forsaken mountain range in California in the summer of 2006.  (Fact #1: When it comes to running in the mountains, I am a fish out of water.  Fact #2:  If a fish remains out of water too long it will die.  Fact #3: I believe you see my point.)  Since that particular race I’ve been on a yet unfulfilled quest to find the ‘perfect running shoe’ to absorb the punishment I subject my body to as I continue to run every single day.

A couple years ago I heard more and more runners commenting on how much they loved running in their Hokas.  They were the new kid on the running shoe block and everyone wanted to jump on the bandwagon.  I began asking the runners I saw wearing Hokas what they thought of them, and without exception they were all huge fans.  I saw more and more of them on the feet of runners of all shapes and sizes at various races.  According to the favorable reviews I was reading and hearing, Hoka running shoes were living up to its company slogan: Time to fly.

So after giving it more thought than ever before about buying a pair of running shoes, I broke down and ordered a pair of Hokas online.  The caveat was the cost: $169.  Running shoe experts will tell you to expect 500 – 600 miles from a pair of running shoes.  Doing the math, it appears it would be cheaper to drive a HumVee 500 miles rather than run 500 miles in a pair of Hokas.  At that price the One One’s better do everything I dreamed of, if not more.  At the very least I expected them to make me feel like I’m running along a path of covered by a layer of cotton balls; best case scenario they make me feel like I’m running on a cloud.

This morning, after spending the last 16 months in my closet the Hokas found their way onto my feet for the very first time.  I opened the shoebox—large enough to hold a toaster oven—and my One One’s finally saw the light of day.  (That’s a lie.  It was 5:00 a.m. and even when my run was over the sun still hadn’t made an appearance.  Word of caution: I’m apt to lie at the drop of a hat.)

‘What an odd creature,’ I thought to myself.  (Actually I said it out loud and our orange tabby Moe, who was sleeping in the chair I was sitting on the edge of to put on the Hokas, thought I was talking to him.  I already told you I’m apt to lie at the drop of a hat; perhaps now you believe me.) 

The white pair of Hokas sported HUGE heels that brought back memories of the white platform shoes I wore to my senior prom some four decades ago.  There was an extra pair of shoelaces in the box but for the life of me I don’t know why because the shoes featured an intricate lacing system where the laces are threaded through a plastic gizmo that gives way to a leather whatchamacallit and for the life of me I couldn’t see how the shoelaces could be removed since they actually formed one big loop with no loose ends.  (There wasn’t an instruction manual in the shoebox; by all rights there should have been.)  Through a couple minutes of trial and error, I did manage to figure out how to tighten the shoelaces (it involved separating the blue and the gray halves of the plastic gizmo and pushing them back together once the laces felt snug). 

At 5:30 Al and I headed out for our regular Saturday morning run.  It was 16 degrees with a wind chill bringing the temperature down into single digits.  I took my first couple of steps…and I can most definitely assure you I was not running on the clouds.  Not even a path covered in cotton balls.  I remembered one of the runners I asked about Hokas telling me it took three or four runs until you could truly appreciate their performance.  Three miles into my run I heard the familiar ‘clap’ as my right foot struck the asphalt.  ‘When will it be my Time to Fly?’ I thought to myself.  (Again I lie. I actually directed this question to Al, who had no earthly idea what I was talking about.)

We interrupt this message for a brief public service announcement.

If you’re running in expensive running shoes and stop on the side of the road to answer nature’s call on a dark, cold and very windy morning it is highly advisable to do so with your back to the wind.

We now return to our regularly scheduled message.

So after my first 10 miles running in a pair of Hokas, I’m disillusioned, disappointed and just a little bit disgusted.  Not as disillusioned, disappointed or disgusted as when I ran in a pair of Sketcher Go Run’s (Can you say ‘goodbye shins?’) for the first time, but pretty darn close.

Sure, I’ll give them a few more tries in the next few weeks; after all I did invest $169 in them.  But for now I have to go.

It’s Time to Cry.