Al Gore: Reasonable

Wednesday evening I was in attendance at a northern California event for Al Gore’s book tour promoting his just-released The Assault on Reason, a book whose goal it is to “explain how the public sphere itself has evolved into a place hospitable to reason’s enemies; to make us more aware of the forces at work on our own minds; and to lead us to an understanding of what we can do, individually and collectively, to restore the rule of reason and safeguard our politics.” Whew! All that in a slim-273 pages. I have not yet had a chance to read the book–will do so soon and give my thoughts on it in this forum. But I do want to share some notes and reflections on tonight’s event with the former Vice President.

• There was an incredible buzz among the standing-room only crowd assembling outside of the concert hall where Mr. Gore spoke. Three booths were set-up, each crowded by dozens of people: one soliciting signatures for the Draft Gore movement; one promoting the Gore/Obama ‘08 Dream Team initiative; and one distributing flyers and stickers–immediately snatched by eager and enthusiastic supporters–urging the Oscar Award-winner, Nobel Peace Prize-nominated, former VP to “Run, Al, run!” I have never before seen so many people smiling at a political rally or event–the mostly Boomer audience was high on hope that Mr. Gore would soon declare his candidacy for the Presidency of the United States. The atmosphere of optimism was refreshing and infectious. I soon found myself joining in the collective daydream that Mr. Gore would announce his intention to run in ‘08 on this evening in northern Marin County.

• All ticket-holders were entitled to a complimentary hot-off-the-presses copy of The Assault on Reason. (“Complimentary” may be a bit of a relatively loose word–when Ticketmaster was done assessing their processing fees, tickets to see Mr. Gore speak about his new book crossed the $50/pop mark.) As people made their way to their seats in the auditorium, they clutched their copies of the book tight to their chest, as if it was a newborn baby and they were shielding the young child from the sun. Again, I was amazed by the intensity of the audience’s emotions related to Mr. Gore–there was a deep want to believe that in these pages was a formula for successfully combating the neoconservative and religious right movement in America.

• Scanning the room before the house lights dimmed, I was surprised by the lack of audience diversity. I counted a small number of Asians in the 1,000+ strong audience, but did not see any people of color.

• Mr. Gore was introduced to thunderous applause and strolled onto the stage looking more like Steven Segal–black suit, black unbuttoned shirt, slicked back graying hair, barrel-chested, hands pressed together in a praying position offering his thanks for the warm welcome–than the woody caricature of a geeky sage that so many of us had come to imagine the former-VP as being.

• Mr. Gore started his speech by offering an impressive–in content–abridged verbal history of the written word and how technological advances in printing and distribution of news and stories empowered and educated people to become active community citizens. (See Thomas Paine’s Common Sense.) The ubiquity of information today promised a new golden opportunity of citizen activism, said Mr. Gore. But only if we can get past the manipulative and mind-numbing nature of the 30-second political commercial and out-of-context soundbite.

• While the content was impressive, the delivery was uninspiring. Mr. Gore seemed to be trying to recite a recently written, though rarely practiced, speech. He struggled on stage to get into a groove and most certainly never hit his stride. There were long pauses, awkward tangents, a few misquotes (“As Lincoln once said–er, excuse me, I mean as Jefferson said…”), and an obvious mental search to hit specific “bullet points” in his speech.

• At first the audience was encouraging and forgiving. We tried to help Mr. Gore along by laughing too hard at punch lines and clapping loudly at the many referrals to our celebrity-obsessed American culture. A few of us even sat on the edge of our seat, trying to channel Mr. Gore and tell him, “It’s okay, Al… Do you need to cough and clear your throat? Go ahead and pause to look at your notes–we understand.”

• Finally, after fifteen minutes of Mr. Gore floundering on stage, audience members around me began to whisper to each other and sat back in their chairs. Our new political hero was not perfect. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he simply was not that great of a presenter. But what about An Inconvenient Truth?! He was so funny, so engaging, so inspiring, so Clintonesque in that movie. This Gore on stage was professorial and strode around with a forced casualness–his left hand almost permanently stuck in his left pant pocket. His right hand made firm gestures to punctuate his points, but this too seemed to be a conscious presentation technique, the suggestion of speech coaches.

• I think this is what was disappointing to me: Mr. Gore, environmental sage, was too stylish this evening. I did not want to hear a political stump speech–especially one that had not yet been mastered; instead, and simply, I wanted to hear what was really, at this moment, on Mr. Gore’s mind about the political and cultural climate in America, the changing attitudes of climate change, and the history of citizen engagement through technology.

• I want to reiterate that the content of Mr. Gore’s speech was acute and provocative. He vocalized a hope that we can soon again nominate and elect to office candidates who are swayed by reason, rather than candidates only of charisma or religious conviction, no matter how sincere they may appear.

• Mr. Gore’s call for candidates of reason should not be understood as an attack on religion–referencing the anti-clerical movement of the reformation and Enlightenment, God was found to be present everywhere and in everyone, Mr. Gore reminded us. The divine right of kings was overturned and replaced by a belief that all people are endowed by our creator with unalienable, natural, individual rights. Our leaders need to be humble; conviction alone must not become the principals with which we use to make and enforce political and social policy.

• Mr. Gore’s speech did make reference to a few of the ridiculous, scary, and clumsy quotes and policies of the Bush administration, all which drew heavy applause from this very liberal audience. But Mr. Gore, admirably, did not get personal with President Bush. Rather, Mr. Gore was most frustrated by and furious with the lack of curiosity displayed by the Bush administration and the role of the press and public in serving as an accomplice to such massive incuriosity. Our current state of unease is not the fault of the President Bush, Mr. Gore reminded us, though it would be easy–and unfair–to assume such. It is our fault. We are culpable. We are guilty of abandoning our legacy and commitment to reason. We, as a people, are so excitable, yet too comfortable. We want to feel good, but too often forget, or choose not, to do good. “People do not immigrate to America for our shopping malls. They come here because of our commitment to and defense of freedom.”

• Towards the end of his speech, Mr. Gore did seem a bit more comfortable. His left hand came out of his pant pocket when he began to draw a parallel to the war in Iraq and the slow public and political recognition of the immediate planetary emergency known as climate change. In both cases, he said, our representatives have been staring at a mounting pile of overwhelming, undeniable evidence that highlights the need to take a dramatic and different course of action. Yet with both the war in Iraq and the issue of climate change, there is an almost inconceivable and unreasonable lack of urgency and action by our so-called political. It was here, talking about science and technology and global climate change, that Mr. Gore lit-up the room. And it was the only time in the evening that he seemed confident enough deviate from his prepared speech. Here the prescient geek and former veep looked comfortable in the cool kid’s clothes he was wearing.

• At the end of his speech, Mr. Gore took two questions asked by the emcee of the evening, the owner of a local bookstore who had co-sponsored the evening’s event. I don’t remember the first question–something to do with the war. Mr. Gore responded to it with a ten-minute bloated and somewhat disconnected mini-speech. The second question, however, had me sitting rim-rod straight and leaning in for an answer. “What would you say to us, Mr. Vice-President, about how we can reclaim and reinvigorate our culture with the reason?” Mr. Gore looked to be caught a bit-off guard, but without missing a beat, said, “Buy this book.” Muahahahah! Hearty laughter from all. Except from me and Lauren. I couldn’t put my finger on why I was bothered, in a way, by Mr. Gore’s quip. Lauren got it, though. “After watching An Inconvenient Truth,” she said, “I was knowledgeable and inspired. I felt empowered to make a change in the world. Tonight, I am in familiar company–all of us here want to change things and be better citizens and elect a new kind of leadership. But that presentation did not tell me how to do so–it does not compel me to act like An Inconvenient Truth did.”

• I was one of more than a few people in the audience that was hoping to see more, to experience more, to feel more from Mr. Gore. I looked around and it seemed that some people shared in my disappointment. But I stood, too, with the entire audience and showered Mr. Gore in thunderous applause. I couldn’t help but think, though, that our response reveals more about our collective hunger and want for a political leader like our idealized Al Gore, rather than it does about Al Gore himself. He is brilliant and captivating and charismatic. Even on an off-evening, like this. But he was no doubt struggling tonight.

• And yet I am reminded, typing up my notes from Wednesday, that the content of Mr. Gore’s speech was the most thoughtful and respectful analysis that I have ever heard from a politician–currently serving or recovering. He treated us as peers. There was no pandering. And there was no apologizing for his somewhat shaky presentation. Mr. Gore seemed to say tonight, “I am Al–geeky, curious, swayed by reason. Take me or leave me. You can have a president oozing charisma and charm, like Clinton. Or you can have a president whom you want to have a beer with, like Bush. Or maybe, just maybe, if the cultural climate changes enough, you can have a president like me. Just maybe.” And this has me smiling and hopeful.

• One last note–Mr. Gore was gracious enough to stay on-stage for another 90 minutes after his speech and autograph every audience member’s book. On my way back to the parking lot, I signed my name to the Draft Gore petition.

Run Al, Run!
J.R. Atwood

“Woo Doggie!” 60 Minute Spin Mix

A new 60 minute spin mix is posted at spinningmixes.wordpress.com.

Run With It!
J.R. Atwood

School In a Box

CBS’ 6o Minutes recently aired a 15-minute story on a bold visionary whose mission is to mass-produce the most technologically advanced laptop in the world… To give to every single child in the world… All for less than $100 per laptop. The craziest part? MIT professor Nicholas Negroponte is actually achieving his dream.

But with many great ideas–after having been dismissed as wild and fantastic yet hopelessly impossible–the nonprofit One Laptop Per Child (OLPC) is facing stiff competition from the for-profit computer industry, especially from Intel, which sees the AMD-chip-run OLPC as a threat to its bottom line.

Intel is not the bad guy in this just-brewing competition, however. There are over one billion poor children to whom OLPC wants to give a laptop. This means there are hundreds of billions of dollars of potential revenue from poor- and emerging-countries from which Intel wants to profit. If this passionate drive of mission (OLPC) and for profit (Intel) hurry the time with which children can benefit from a computer while increasing the technological advances in these laptops and lowering their cost… Awesome.

Arming every child with a laptop is a big, beautiful, ridiculous idea. Maybe it’s a luxurious ideal given all the other problems that poor people endure (malnutrition, drought, no access to sewage or running water or electricity). But as Professor Negroponte says of himself, if he was a realist, he would not have started this project.

We can use more dreamers. And bottom-line realists, whose myopic vision for profit may disqualify them from indulging in visionary thinking, are welcome to the party too.

J.R. Atwood

The Price of a Gallon…

Browse through cockeyed.com’s “The Price of a Gallon.” Gas prices are rising, but gasoline is still one of the cheapest liquids on the market.

Where is the moral outrage and calls for congressional investigations into the price of a gallon of milk ($3.79) or bottled water ($6.40) or Kikkoman soy sauce ($15.33) or Tobasco sauce ($94.46) or black ink from an ink cartridge ($2,701.52) or Chanel No. 5 perfume ($25,600.00) or scorpion venom ($38,858,507.46)?

Why We Compete

The Washington Post is publishing a series exploring the question, “Why We Compete?” The first interactive article in the series looks at the notion of curiosity by probing the psychological and physical fitness of the few crazy souls who participate in the Barkley Marathon, perhaps the most intense organized endurance event in America, if not the world. In it’s 21-year history, only six (?!) people have completed the entire race.

If a picture says a thousand words, look no further than to that at the top of the post–these are the feet of one competitor in this year’s Barkley Marathon after his third 20-mile loop. An 11-time Barkley runner, this athlete would again call it quits before being able to complete the marathon’s five loops.

Run With It!
J.R. Atwood

Marathon Man!

On Sunday morning, a few minutes before 10:00 AM, I became a marathon man at the 22nd presentation of the Big Sur International Marathon. ***

The day before, Saturday, Lauren and I drove south from San Francisco along the coast and met-up with our friends, Dave and Jess, for one of our double-date adventures. We embarked on an incredibly peaceful guided kayak tour of the Elkhorn Slough, about 15 miles north of Monterey. On our three-hour paddle we saw dozens of sea otters playing with each other. One particularly frisky otter even tried to climb aboard Dave and Jess’ shell. Along the coasts of the slough were piles of sea lions sunbathing, some nearly on top of each other, and occasionally barking or wrestling with another. It was a great way to start-off the weekend.

After a late lunch at a fantastic seafood restaurant hidden from the highway, Lauren and I continued south to Monterey. On the drive into town I pointed out the hostel/bed and breakfast that I had booked for us. “That’s it–the little blue cottage looking building.”

“Is that duct tape around the windows? J.R.–there are boards covering the windows on the top floor!”

“Babe, it was only $56. How great is that? It got pretty decent reviews on Hostel World.”

Lauren rolled her eyes, regretting she left the lodging reservations on my “to do” list, and started scanning the hotel-lined boulevard–all that read “No Vacancy”–out of a desperate hope that the lodging gods would take mercy on her and her uber-cheap boyfriend.

Monterey is a gorgeous town… It feels a bit like a mix of Laguna Beach and the Marina district of San Francisco. There was a warm and welcoming vibe in the fresh ocean air. As we continued towards downtown, I saw an increase in the number of people wearing bright-white running shoes. We were near the race headquarters.

We parked and strolled through the marathon expo in the Monterey Convention Center. I picked-up my race bib, a ticket for a bus ride to the marathon start, and a handsome long sleeve “technical fabric” t-shirt. Eavesdropping on the conversations of other racers, many of whom were sharing tips or comparing training logs of all the miles they did in preparation for the race, muted my enthusiasm a bit. I was extremely excited to be here, but felt under-prepared.

I had grand plans of following an intense six-month, then three-month, then two-month marathon training program. But a late-in-the-game leg injury kept me out of my Asics more than I wish it had… My longest training run had been the 25K (15.5 miles) Muir Woods trail run a few weeks backs. I certainly hadn’t done too much base building, though I was confident about my speedwork… I have always had a fairly fast kick, honed moreso with track sessions earlier in the year. And the Sunday before, on a lark, I ran a small and local 5K race and took second overall without breaking much of a sweat. But this… This was a marathon! More than ten miles longer than my longest run!

I knew I would survive–struggling through the Vineman Half-Ironman in the summer of 2005 gave me the confidence to know, no matter how much pain I may be in, I could finish Big Sur. And I reminded myself that no one goes for a PR on this notoriously hilly “up and down” course.

“Just one step at a time, J.R. Just one step at a time.” I caught myself fixating on this mantra as we rounded the expo.

There was no use worrying about training, or lack of training–the race was in 12 hours. But I could still control my rest and nutrition. Rather, I could control my rest; Lauren could control my nutrition.

I was content to approach dinner like I had our lodging: as a utilitarian necessity with cost as the determining factor. “How about Safeway sandwiches, Lo?”

“On the night before your first marathon, J.R.? No way. I’m taking you out to celebrate and fuel you with a healthy, well-balanced meal.”

We dined at a restaurant called Lollapalooza. The place was heavy on the cologne and collegian–the local crowd was made-up of slick investment banker types and their sometimes Barbie-proportioned ladyfriends. But there were also 12,000 runners and walkers who were visiting and needed a place to eat in Monterey. We were with the suntan lotion-smelling, t-shirt wearing, shaved-leg crew placed near the kitchen and in the overflow tables in the bar.

I had a fantastic dinner of salmon, vegetables, pilaf and cous-cous, and plenty of bread. Well-fed, I felt better about the race ahead.

We checked into our room. It was… quaint. The entire place was covered–not decorated with, rather covered–by crooked-hanging needlepoint pictures of rabits and forests, paper flowers (?!) in dirty vases, floral printed wallpaper, and a worrisome number of bird cages with no birds in them. But Sean, the host, was extremely friendly. Our room was clean and we weren’t–er, I wasn’t–looking for much… Just a place to rest for a few hours.

I carefully laid-out all I would need for the next day: shorts, singlet, bib, racing belt, shoes, wool socks, Garmin Forerunner, bus ticket, sunglasses, warm-up pants, sweatshirt, gloves, wool cap, water, gels, bars, fruit, salt packets, etc.

I turned-off the light near 10:00 PM and all-too-quickly, at 3:15 AM, jolted awake by a sense of excitement and anticipation, not unlike that experienced on Christmas morning as a little kid.

I dressed in the dark, not wanting to wake Lauren, and threw my gear in a small bag. Downstairs, Sean was nice enough to have fresh-baked banana bread and a breakfast cake warm for us early risers. I scarfed a banana and some cake, took a few swigs of juice, and put two pieces of toasted rye bread with butter and honey in my pocket before exiting into the cool midnight-blue morning air.

The mile-long jog to the bus pick-up along quiet streets allowed me to settle into a centered mental state. I took my spot in line for the buses and then climbed aboard the school bus for the 60-minute drive from Monterey down Highway 1 to Big Sur. On the bus, I tried to catch a few minutes of sleep, but was kept awake by the winding road and buzz of excitement in the bus about the race ahead.

When we unloaded, a sign, lit by a giant spotlight powered by a humming generator, read “Welcome to Big Sur.” I checked my watch: 4:45 AM. Two hours till the start of the race.

I found a spot on the curb in a parking lot quickly swelling in size with anxious runners. I massaged my legs, did some stretching, ate some food, visited the port-a-potties a couple of times, and tried to imagine the race-to-be in my head. I had no idea how to pace myself but knew to reign-in myself during the early miles. I knew I could do an easy 16-18 miles, and maybe eke-out a few more on pure will and adrenaline. From there, my strategy would be to hold on and push-through “the wall” that all marathon vets I spoke with warned me of near mile 20.

Finally, with the morning sun filtering through the proud pines and illuminating the granite-slabbed valley, I tossed my sweat-bag towards an event volunteer and filtered into the starting gate. I had bought a cheap pair of gloves and a hat to wear the first few miles and toss aside, but the weather was mild enough–upper-40s–that I didn’t need them. I did keep, on top of my blue singlet, an old three-quarter length shirt.

The announcer welcomed us to the 22nd presentation of the Big Sur Marathon and I forgot about any pre-race nerves when singing along to the National Anthem. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and told myself not to think about the race ahead, but to rather store this!–the sights, sounds, and buzz of energy–of my first marathon. The elite runners in the fifty feet of space between me and the start line. The warm glow of a rising sun over a nestled valley in a beuatiful national park. A picture-perfect morning punctuated by little clouds of steam from people’s mouths. The bouncing and bounding of anxious runners. The cheesy 1980s pop-tunes piping over the PA system for motivation. (“I’m a maaaniac… Maaaniac… On the loose!”

And then– “Bam!”–the starter’s gun.

By instinct and out of habit I shot out towards the front, weaving in and out of runners to find an open “line” on the road. Almost immediately, I heard the split of the one mile mark. “That wasn’t so bad,” I thought. “Just 25.2 more to go.”

This is how the first 5-7 miles went: quickly and smooth. I caught myself smiling throughout, taking in the gorgeous scenery with the crashing waves my soundtrack on this epic personal trek. At the five mile mark I tossed my long-sleeved shirt to the side and decided to try and keep pace with a group of gentlemen, strung-out over no more than 10 yards, whom seemed to know how to run a marathon.

The website for Big Sur has a fantastic mile-by-mile virtual tour of the course–at mile seven it notes the start of a long and gradual climb. At this point, the six or seven of us guys who had been running near each other suddenly packed together into a mini-peleton. It was like we were birds in flight arranging into a “flying V.” No one said anything, but we fell into step together and took turns at the head leading the group up and up and up. As we headed onto Hurricane Hill, the steady rhythmic beat from a group of Taiko drummers inspired my primal hunger that allowed me to charge up to Survivor Point. It was awesome!

By mile 13 we were strung-out again, I somewhere in the middle, but the faster guys a good 30 yards ahead. The ocean was a beautiful site–deep blue and crashing white-caps until the horizon where it looks like water was pouring over off the earth’s edge. And in the air I heard a beautiful melody. I knew that up ahead, past Bixby Bridge, was a tuxedo-clad man playing a grand piano. Ascending and descending along the Pacific coastline, I felt like an explorer in Homer’s Odyssey, enchanted by the music of the Sirens. I flashed a thumb’s up and huffed a “Thank you!” to the piano man as I ran past.

By this point I was passing a lot of walkers and joggers who were participating in the 21-mile Big Sur power walk/run, one of four events hosted by the BSIM committee. There are no spectators allowed on the course, so it was nice to have their encouraging words and to exchange high-fives with people on my run.

By mile 17 I was feeling good, but in need of a pee-break. I had been doing a great job of staying well-fueled throughout the race–taking-in Gatorade at every aid station, having downed a few gel packs, chewing on a couple salt packets (to keep cramps at bay and replace the salt from sweating), and nibbling on an energy bar. My pace had been pretty consistent through this point, too–anywhere between 6:30 and 6:45 for the first half-marathon; near 6:50-7:00 for these middle miles.

Back on the road I felt some slight pain–my left knee was pretty sore and my right shin was a bit inflamed. The faster I get done, the faster I can rest, I told myself.

The remaining miles were pretty much a pleasant blur. I slowed a bit, to 6:55-7:10 pace, but was smiling and felt good. Every step forward was a new record for my longest run.

At these last few aid stations I grabbed an orange slice along with Gatorade and stopped two times to do some quick squats. I was anticipating a bear to jump on my back–this is what I was told it would feel like when I hit the wall–but it never came. Like someone anticipating being slapped in the face, though, I was a bit tense and tried to prepare for the inevitable bonk.

Soon I was at mile 25 and had suffered no crash. The walkers were an enthusiastic bunch and cheered me on! A couple of little kids even ran with some of us for a few hundred yards before peeling off to rejoin their moms and dads.

Still smiling and feeling strong, relatively, I kicked-in the last half-mile in typical finish-strong fashion. The announcer called my name and I heard Lauren and my parents cheering me on. I came through the shoot, hands high and smile wide. I was actually laughing a bit. Lauren had been worried that I would be a shell of myself when I finished, as I was when I staggered through the shoot at Vineman. Then I felt like I was physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. I was not the best person to be around that afternoon. But today, I felt great!

I was greeted with giant hugs and congratulatory kisses and high fives. I posed for all the shots my dad wanted to take, though in truth, I kind of wanted to keep running. I was curious to see if I could do another 3.8 and make it a day of 30 miles. Lauren and my mom steered me to the finisher’s expo area, though, and I went through the line of goodies and food.

I was curious to see my official time–3 hours and 11 minutes. Fifth in my age-group and 79th out of a field of 4,000+. I was happy. This was my first marathon… Heck, it was my first run over 16-miles. My only goal was to finish with a smile on my face, and that I did.

The winning time was 2:25–relatively slow for a marquee marathon and “proof that this is a tough course,” said my dad. “You could have gone sub-three on a flat course, I bet.”

(On Monday, however, I was slightly disappointed with my time. Having enjoyed the marathon distance, I wanted to know what it takes to qualify for Boston… A sub-3:10 marathon on a certified course. I left a number of minutes out on the Big Sur course. It would have been a great story to say I qualified for Boston with my first marathon and at Big Sur. But I have plans to run the Bizz Johnson trail marathon in October. Hopefully then I can push a three-hour finish.)

After the race Lauren, my parents, and I returned to Monterey for a leisurely lunch overlooking the bay. We toasted and I felt like the luckiest guy in the world to have such a supportive and loving family. Knowing they were at the finish line, cheering me on, is what kept me moving forward along Highway 1 for 26.2 miles.

Run With It!
J.R. Atwood

“Allright!” 60 Minute Spin Mix

A new 60 minute spin mix is posted at spinningmixes.wordpress.com.

Run With It!
J.R. Atwood

Run Easy? Just Do It!

Reebok has recently launched a new and somewhat provocative ad campaign. Called “Run Easy,” the idea is to appeal to the vast majority of people who hated P.E. class in high school, who never ran a sub-5:00 minute mile, who have no ambition of qualifying for the Boston Marathon, who have never shaved their legs in the pursuit of sport, who don’t know what a fartlek is, who usually run only when chased, who would rather “work out” rather than “train”, or who like to have conversations with their friends while running. In short, Reebok wants to appeal to joggers.

This is a great idea, in concept, since the “Just Do It!” attitude of the Nike-dominated running scene can be intimidating for a casual or recreational athlete. Heck, it can be intimidating even for seasoned and elite age-group athletes!

At some high-end speciality running stores (with shoes reaching prices of $165 and a running top costing another $45) and in the health and fitness expos of marquee races and events, some people try to make others–who know less about a product or who haven’t logged as many miles–feel inferior by posing and posturing. Being a member in the niche market of hardcore athletes can sometimes feel like those first few minutes at a high school homecoming dance… You’re either with the “in” crowd and want to party all night, or you’re on the outside looking at the well-dressed “cool kids” wondering why you didn’t stay home.

Unfortunately, Reebok’s “Run Easy” campaign feels like the self-loathing kids who made fun of anyone and everyone who even wanted to go to the dance. It’s a mish-mosh of bitterness and confusion.

While trying to appeal to the masses, “Run Easy” makes fun of the very qualities of character–passion, determination, drive, stick-to-itiveness–that inspires us regular mortals and sometimes-couch-potatoes to dream about, and often to achieve, our athletic and professional ambitions. (See the posters from the “Run Easy” campaign above.) Then, it invites outsiders of the “Just Do It!” lifestyle to become “Run Easy” insiders and help contribute content to one of the most difficult-to-navigate and poorly designed websites I have ever seen, www.goruneasy.com.

Reebok is a company that, to me, feels like it has a chip on its shoulder. It wants to play with the big boys–Nike, Asics, New Balance, and Mizuno in the running industry–but the high-end and specialty retailers won’t carry their shoes. Maybe it’s because the shoes are simply no good. Maybe it’s because their marketing is simply no good.

As for the “Run Easy” campaign, it stinks. What are they advertising? There is no mention of a new product line or pictures of Reebok’s shoes or apparel. So instead of being able to play with the big boys, Reebok decides to mock them: Next to a picture with an elite runner puking mid-run, Reebok asks, “What are you just doing? Run easy.” Nevermind that this makes no sense. A company is in a poor-position when it feels it has to identify itself as the anti-Company-From-Beaverton-Oregon-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named rather than create its own unique identity and brand.

I think it is a great idea to encourage people–of all shapes, sizes, abilities, and ambitions–to lace-up and go for a walk, a jog, a run… Whatever so long as one gets moving… Slow or fast. “Run easy” or “just do it!” hard.

Oh, and the co-founder of that company from Beaverton, Oregon–Nike–is the famed Bill Bowerman who, along with coaching track at the University of Oregon for 24 years and training 31 Olympic athletes, is often credited for starting the running boom during the late 1960s-early 80s in the United States. In 1967 Bowerman published a wildly successful book, appropriately called Jogging, that introduced and popularized the philosophy of light, easy running at a slow to comfortable pace.

So if you really want to “Run Easy,” forget Reebok’s website or immature posters. Rather, lace-up a pair of shoes (any shoes–even, or especially, Nike shoes) and just do it.

Run With It!
J.R. Atwood