Even More Little Joys for Runners Only (Illustrated)

Continued from two previous posts

22.  Adjusting to altitude in about 10 minutes.

23.  Not getting "one-upped."

24.  That first hot meal after a long run.

The world's richest man can't buy a meal that good.

25.  Taking the stairs and beating people on the escalator.

Shoe Review: North Face Hayasa

Specs
Advertised weight:  9.0 oz. (M's size 9)
REAL weight:  9.2 oz. (M's size 9.5)
Heel-toe drop:  9 mm
Tagline:  "Run faster on any terrain with a high-performance running shoe designed with an ultralight, seamless upper construction that doesn't sacrifice protection."
Miles logged:  ~450

Notable Races
Nearly every trail race I've ever done, including the San Francisco 50-miler.  All of my races have been marathon distance or longer.  I have set nine course records in these shoes.

Holy crap, where do I start with these?  These shoes RULE.

First off, the fit.  Holy crap, it is perfect.  I have never worn any shoe, of any kind, that fit as well as this one did.  It was like a friggin' second skin, only with some wiggle room just to make you extra-comfortable.  The shoe feels like it moves with you, and not just the upper.  It's truly an extension of your foot.  It's like my feet were meant to be in this shoe.  And when you lace them up, every instinct in your body tells you to run - fast!

I feel like I want to go on about how great the fit is, but I can't think of words that are appropriate, outside of "perfect" and "best."

The outsole is more flexible than you'll usually find on a trail runner.  Some people may find that a little strange, and one of the shoe's few weaknesses is the lack of a sturdy rock plate.  On occasion, you'll feel a larger rock poke you.  In my opinion, that is well worth the ability to feel the trail under you and make adjustments as necessary.  The outsole is actually flexible enough that you aren't forced to hit the ground the exact same way on every stride, which can be a huge advantage on varying terrain.  You just have to be paying attention.

The tread is grippy enough, but the lugs are fairly shallow.  On most surfaces, it's suited me just fine, but I could see it being an issue in wet conditions, loose scree, or other situations where you just want huge, deep lugs.  I might add that the tread is light enough that combined with the flexible feel of the outsole, you can run on pavement and forget that you're wearing a trail runner.

As far as support/cushion goes, these are perfectly adequate.  You're simply not going to get a luxury cruise in a nine-ounce shoe, so don't go in with that expectation.  That being said, these have plenty of cushion and support to get you through a marathon or 50K, provided you have good running form.  I used these for a 50-miler, and while my ankles and arches were starting to hurt by the end, it wasn't enough to affect my running, and I felt fine later the same day (try getting through a 50-miler with no joint or foot pain, I don't care what shoes you're wearing).  Still, a little more cushion might be an improvement, at least if you're intending to do longer distances.

Above all, these shoes are ungodly fast.  Light, quick, responsive, nimble, these things are friggin' speed demons.  Yes, there are lighter-weight, more minimalist shoes out there, but few of them even count as shoes; to me, they bear a closer resemblance to slippers.  These suckers give you the full support/cushion of a lightweight trainer, the grip of a trail runner, and have speed to burn.  Hard to beat that combo.

Aside from the lack of a firm rock plate, one of my only complaints is the heel-toe drop is a little high, especially for a neutral shoe that's built for speed.  9 mm just seems like a little much; 6 mm, or even 4, seems more appropriate for this type of shoe.  This is more of a personal preference though, so I'm nitpicking.  The 9 mm drop is still perfectly comfortable to me, and I'm sure a lot of people would be glad to have a light, fast shoe in a more traditional drop.

Oh, and they look badass!

Does this look like the face of mercy?

These things are so good I brought them out of retirement to run a few more races on them, after their replacements just couldn't live up to the previous standard.  I'm worried that I've been permanently spoiled!

A second version has since been released, and from what I understand, not many changes have been made (that's a good thing!).  If I were changing this shoe, I'd probably level the heel-toe drop to ~6 mm and add just a touch more cushion, even if that means adding half an ounce.  Oh, and the shoelaces are unnecessarily long.  But that's getting reaaalllly picky.  These shoes absolutely rock.  Can you tell that I like them?

Seriously, why are the laces so friggin' long?!?

Bottom line

Thumbs up!  Possibly the best running shoes I've ever worn.

Pros:  Light weight, good grip, outstanding fit, surprisingly capable of long distance, looks awesome!

Cons:  Heel-toe drop a little high (personal preference), weak rock plate, a little light on cushion

Best Uses:  Lightweight trainer, trail racing, all distances, door-to-trail runs

Lake Chabot Trail 50K

Unless you count the Bizz Johnson Trail Run (and I think that one deserves an asterisk), Lake Chabot is by far the flattest race in the Coastal Trail Runs series.  Only Wildwood even comes close, though you might argue that Wildwood is a little easier.  Lake Chabot does have a couple tough hills, while Wildwood is essentially a long slight incline out, then a long steady downhill back.  Even if there's less climbing total, a tough hill 20 miles into a race can really do a number on you.

If you look at the course's elevation profile, it looks like it's peppered with a handful of nasty, steep climbs.

But then if you look closer, you see that the course's highest point is only about 400 feet higher than the lowest point, and it doesn't seem so bad.

I'd had a productive week of training, including a great run at The Dish in Palo Alto.  For the first time in over a month, I was actually feeling good about the shape I was in.  A sub-4:00 time sounded like it should be an expectation on a course like this, and a win sounded reasonable.  That is, until one of the volunteers told me that some other excellent runner was in attendance.  I guess we'll see what happens.

Before the race, I saw a guy wearing a black sweater with the name of a company on it.  I can't remember the name of the company, and I wish I could.  But that's not what made it stand out; it was the logo above the name.  Apparently this company's logo is - no kidding - the Triforce.  After seeing that, my mind immediately went "DAAAA!!!! Dadadadada Daht! da-DAAAA!!!!"  I should've handed the guy a Clif Shot and said "It's dangerous to go alone!  Take this."  I had the Zelda theme stuck in my head for the first five miles of the race.

Right at the gun, I was behind a fast, skinny guy in a bright yellow shirt.  He was running the half.  I just stayed with him, since he was holding a great pace, was nice and steady, and it wasn't taking too much effort on my part.  About three people weren't far behind me.  Surprisingly, the course was paved for well over a mile.  Also had a lot more shade that I'd expected.  It was still cold out.  Was glad I wasn't wearing my lightest shirt.

About two miles into the race, I was still right behind Yellow Shirt, when we got to a wide spot in the trail with a few hikers and a whole bunch of dogs.  They were friendly dogs, but were very, very interested in us.  All of them came running right at us full speed, then ran alongside us for a little while, like we were playing some sort of game.  I wasn't worried about them, but it's still kind of weird when you're in the middle of the race.  I definitely didn't want to trip over one of them.  They abandoned their game once we left the clearing, and we kept going.

About a quarter-mile later, we got to a narrow bridge.  Had to trot down a short staircase, only wide enough for one, and the bridge creaked and buckled under the weight of only two people.

"This is a crazy loop!" Yellow Shirt exclaimed.

"No kidding!" I answered.  I wondered how this would go when the larger bunches of people came through.

Only a little later, I was wondering where that first hill was.  There was supposed to be one about 2.2 miles in.  Was it one of those random rolling ones before the bridge?  If that was one of the "big" hills of the course, this was going to be a very easy day.

After about another mile of flat course along the shore of the lake, the course turned upwards.  Only three miles in?  Wasn't the next big hill supposed to come later?  But we made it to the first aid station having done only about 3.3 miles.  Wha...that's over a mile early!  I've never seen Coastal Trail Runs measure a course that inaccurately.  Sure, sometimes a 50K is off by half a mile or so (at least according to my GPS watch), but this is over a mile, and only a couple miles in.  Maybe they moved the first aid station from its original spot.

By now, a guy in a white shirt had moved ahead of me, during the hill.  It's truly the hills where you separate the men from the boys.  White Shirt was running the 50K.  Must be that really good guy.  I didn't worry about it.  Run your race.

The course did a little jumping and dipping here and there, but nothing bad.  Yellow Shirt and I were still fairly close together.  Ran through some heavily wooded singletrack that took us away from the lake, then finally made a turn and headed up the biggest hill of the course.  At the top, I stopped for the aid station.  Yellow Shirt just kept running.

As I put down an orange slice and some sports drink, one of the volunteers asked me,
"Did you go to UT?"
I wasn't wearing anything indicating as much, so I wondered how he knew.  But for whatever reason, I didn't ask.  I just confirmed that I did.

"Hey, me too!  Hook 'em!"
I raised my horns.  "Damn straight!"  I took off running again.

Only a few steps later, I remembered that volunteer was also at Bizz Johnson, where I wore a burnt orange running shirt.

Both the big hill and the second aid station came about a mile and a half early, just like the previous hill and aid station.  What was going on?  Maybe they moved the start line from its original location, and we've got longer to go before we get back there.  It was the only explanation I had going.

Not only had Yellow Shirt not stopped at the aid station, but he was absolutely burning up the downhill.  By the time I reached lake level again, my stomach was acting up.  And it kept getting worse.  And worse.  And worse.  By the time I got to mile 10, it was affecting my running.  That's the point at which it's worth it to stop for a bathroom.  I hoped that the start/finish was coming early like everything else had.  The course turned to pavement again and began rolling.  I kept looking at my watch.  Every time I did, it told me only a tenth of a mile had passed.  I tried to hold it together and kept moving.

After only 11.5 miles, I was back at the start/finish.  A mile and a half early.  I stopped in the bathroom, with only mild success.  Got back out started up again.  My stomach only felt a little better.  Still seemed like there was a lot going on in there.  I still couldn't explain why the course was so much shorter than it should be.  But hey, if that means the day will be that much easier, I'll take it!  Yellow Shirt had finished his half marathon, but White Shirt was now about five minutes ahead of me.  That far ahead after 11.5 miles?  Yeah, I think the day is his.

There were a lot more people outside this time around.  Had to run around them frequently for the first mile or so.  Just as I got off the paved part of the trail, with noticeably less people around, something shifted in my stomach.  I stopped for a second and put my hands on a tree.  All in one quick burst, I let out the biggest, most voluminous fart in recent memory.  OK, now my stomach feels better.

When I reached the clearing where the dogs were last time, I noticed something.  Something important.

We missed a turn!!!

The course does a virtual loop away from the lake, up a hill, then goes across the narrow bridge.  We just cut straight across and left out the loop!  That's why everything came a mile and a half early!  That's why the hill at mile 2.2 seemed so weak!  We didn't do it!

Instead of taking the loop in the upper-right, we cut straight across.

Realizing the mistake we made, I went ahead and did the loop twice this time to make up for it.  Had to do a hill twice consecutively, harder than spreading them out, and even added probably close to a quarter mile by doing the extra section to close the loop (and since we did that last time, maybe added a half-mile total).  But I'm going to say that's the price I pay for missing it last time.  Besides, I wanted to finish this course honestly.

When I got to the next aid station, I saw another guy just leaving it, about 20 seconds before I got there.

"You need to call Wendell," I said as I arrived.
"What's wrong?"  They looked alarmed.

"No one's hurt," I sputtered in between trying to swallow peanut butter.  I explained how at least five people missed the loop the first time, pointing it out on the map.  If the message got relayed to Wendell now, that means that the 50K leader (who missed it the first time and might've skipped it again) could still make up for it by doing the loop three times at the end of the race.  I could've kept my mouth shut until later, hoping he'd be disqualified or something, but I wanted to win the race fair-and-square.

"Alright, we'll call him."  I probably spent at least an extra minute at the aid station explaining the whole thing, but well worth it.

I'd forgotten how long the singletrack section of the course went on before the big hill and the next aid station.  Seemed like it was just going on forever.  Not hard, just much longer than I remembered.  I was now about 20 miles into the race, with only a couple hills left, and I was still feeling pretty good!  Much better than I felt 20 miles into Coyote Ridge.  For some reason, "Redneck Woman" by Gretchen Wilson was running through my head during that section.

When I got to the next aid station, I explained the situation again to those volunteers, just in case the other aid station didn't get a cell phone signal or something.  They mentioned that the second-place guy was about two minutes ahead, but first place was about 30 minutes ahead.  Obviously, he hadn't done the yellow loop twice like I had, if he went from 5 to 30 minutes ahead that quickly.

"Did you volunteer at Bizz Johnson?"
"Yeah, I did!"
"That's where I've seen you before."  The guy was wearing a Houston Marathon shirt.  He asked what part of Texas I'm from.  I used to say the Dallas area, but by now, I've spent enough time in the Austin area that I answer both.  "I'm actually moving back soon, though."

"Oh, you don't like it out here, huh?" another volunteer chimed, with a smile.

"Actually, I do like it here!  Different reason I'm moving."  I fired up my legs again.  "Thanks, y'all!"

The arches of my feet were starting to hurt by the time I made it to the bottom of the hill.  They hurt worse when I got to the bottom and the course became paved again.  And while the course was more shaded than I'd expected, the day also got warm faster than I'd expected.  I guess that evened out.

The section between the big hill and the start/finish didn't seem to go on quite as long this time, but felt much harder.  Lots and lots of short ups and downs.  I saw a few other runners finishing their first loop, some of them walking up the hills and running down, which is a little funny to watch when the hills are about 40 meters apart.  A whole lot more people on the trail by this time of day, nearly noon, with great weather, going for a hike along the lake.  Can't say I blame them.

When I arrived at the start/finish and hit the aid station, with only a five-mile loop to go, I asked the volunteer,

"So you heard about people missing the yellow loop, right?"
"What?"

Oh, crap.  That means the guy in front didn't get the message.  He might wind up disqualified.  I felt for the guy.  I've gotten lost on a course too, but it only made me add unnecessary mileage.  This could be much worse.  I would hate to run 28-ish miles only to be credited with a DNF, and I felt bad that the guy was following me when he missed the turn the first time.  Nothing I could do now, though.  Now that it was warm, I took in plenty of water and set out for the final leg of the course.

I might add that ever since I made up for the yellow loop, all the aid stations and hills came exactly at the distance expected.

Only about two minutes after I left the start/finish area, I saw the guy in the lead, wrapping up his race.  He was clearly the superior runner, so I applauded him as he approached, and he gave me a fist-bump.  In the back of my mind though, I pondered his fate.  There was still another guy in front of me.  I wondered if he had skipped the yellow loop too.  I saw a bunch of people finishing up the 30K and gave them a few encouraging words.

For the most part, I just got through those last few miles.  Kept counting off each half-mile as I went, and after cresting the hill, I knew I had only a little more than two miles to go, and the worst was over.  The trail was now pretty crowded, and a lot of people seemed to be aware that a race was going on.  I kept getting congratulated.  When that happens, I often wonder, do they actually know I'm out towards the front?  Do they know I'm almost done?  Do they even know what distance the race is, or which distance I'm running?  In general, how much do they know?  Are they just congratulating everyone they see with a number pinned to their shirt?  Encouraging, cheering, that makes perfect sense, but when I hear "congratulations," I ask myself those questions.

I was still delivering my traditional "Good morning!" to most everyone I saw, and then caught myself.  Is it still morning?  I looked at my watch.

"Uh, let's see, 29.6 miles at a 7:54 pace, that means, uh...OK, this is hard.  Let me think."

Then I remembered that I can change the mode and look at elapsed time instead.  Oh yeah.  That's easier.  3:54 had elapsed.  It was still before noon.  I should still say "Good morning!" instead of "Good afternoon!"

Then something else hit me.  There's three-quarters of a mile to go, and now - I looked again - about five minutes left if I want to break four hours.  It's gonna be close, but I could do it!  I shook off the "just get through it" pace I was holding and ran like I normally can.  It wasn't easy, but it wasn't as hard as it could've been.  Could I have been doing this earlier?

I reached the parking lot with a minute to go.  Couldn't possibly be a full minute from here; I can already see the finish line.  Wendell was standing at the beginning of the flags leading to the finish.
"You're gonna break four hours!"
I smiled.  "By this much!" I shot back as I ran past, and through the finish line.

As usual, I slowly worked my way around the finish area, taking in all the goodies: trail mix, water, crackers, beer, and nowadays, they've added barbecue and pumpkin pie.  Love these guys...

It was determined that the first-place finisher didn't do the yellow loop the first time, but did the second time.  What Wendell did was extrapolate his pace, add time to it to make up for the distance, and rounded up to make up for the hill.  He still finished first after that, and not even by a tight margin (more than 15 minutes).

The second-place guy had done the course correctly all along, as evidenced by being 20 minutes out of the lead at the first aid station.  That could only happen if some people skipped the loop and he didn't.  He wound up beating me by only two minutes.  ARG!  If I'd known he was that close!  Of course, had I managed to catch him, he probably would've found another gear too.  So I came in third, even though I didn't have a bad day.  Not my very best, I'd say (for example, I had a near-identical time at Crystal Springs, a harder course), but certainly not a bad day.  I just got beaten by better men.  And that's OK.

The Dish

Now that my normal pre-work running routine has been scrapped, I've had to come up with a new one.  Shoreline Park, where I do most of my running, is still within running distance of my apartment, so it hasn't been that much of a change.  I still go running there, I just start and finish all my runs from my apartment instead of my office.  And I wake up whenever I want.

For months, almost since I moved here, I'd heard about The Dish, some hiking trail on the side of a hill over by Stanford.  Apparently it's a paved path that makes a three-mile loop, and I'd heard the hill is brutal.  Well, I heard that from a guy who told me he gets winded just walking one loop.  So I wasn't sure what to think about it.  I'd ridden Invictus past the place several times, so I knew where the gate was, but you can't see much of the path from the road.

Finally, in one of my last few weeks here, I thought I'd give it a go.  Something to do before I leave.  I put on my running shoes and rode Freebird over there, locked her up, and took on The Dish, intending to do three loops.

My goodness, that first hill...kinda caught me off guard.  Somehow, I didn't expect it to go on for a full mile, so I burned up the first quarter-mile, only to be greeted by more hill.  And around every corner, more, and more, until I was already tired only eight minutes into a run.
"Perhaps," I thought to myself, "I should calm down a little bit."

After that first hill, though, it's really not too bad.  Rollers throughout, no flat sections whatsoever, but nothing you can't handle.  The scenery was downright gorgeous, a look over Silicon Valley and the San Francisco Bay to the east, and the beautiful hills of the peninsula to the west.  It was a bright, clear day, a little warm, but not too much.  This was gonna be a good run.

I came down and around the other side of the loop, finding myself in more rollers at the bottom.  Somehow, I missed both the drinking fountain and one of the entrances on the way, not that I intended to use them this time, but I did later on.  I saw some sort of gate that looked like a private entrance instead, like it was coming out of someone's backyard.  I kept running past and found myself at the turnoff to go back down to the entrance where I started.  I headed down, wanting to get every last hill outta this run that I could.

I turned right this time instead of left.  I was doing "washing machine" loops, the kind where you alternate clockwise and counter-clockwise.  Keeps things interesting, and lets you see the landscape in a different way.  This time, I started off with some rollers near the bottom, and the hill to the top was a lot more gradual.  When I passed the "private" entrance again, I realized it was actually a gate that leads into an alley in a neighborhood.  It was the second entrance I was looking for.

Just before the big hill, I found the drinking fountain.  You have to split off from the trail and go down into this crescent-shaped path, obscured from the main path by a row of trees.  Honestly, it reminded me of a pit on a race track.  4.5 miles into the run, I stopped for a few gulps and kept going.

Dealing with a less-steep hill, and now well into the run, I was feeling pretty good.  It usually takes me a mile or so to get going, and when that first mile is a hill, it can do a number on me.  I was feeling better now than when I started.  I looked at my watch.  Slow pace for normal, but depending on how many hills I'm really dealing with, I'm potentially doing pretty well!  I picked up the pace ever so slightly.  Let's see what I'm made of.

It took some effort to stay in control coming down the steep hill.  This time, I went to the gate that leads to the alley and let myself through, just to run down to street level and come back up.  Not skipping any hills.  I headed up that first hill, the monstrous one I'd aggressively attacked the first time around, with a little more patience this time.  Even though I was running slower, it didn't seem to go on nearly as long.  Mental preparation can make a lot of things seem easier.

When I got to the top of the hill, I took another look at my watch and saw that my average pace was 7:02.  The competitive side in me came out.  I can get that under 7:00!  I only had about 2.5 miles to go, all rollers or downhill.  There was no reason I couldn't shed a few seconds per mile and squeak my average under 7:00.  I took off.

Possibly the hardest part of that last few miles was actually the downhill.  I hadn't fully run through it until now, but wanting to take full advantage, I went for it this time.  Man, I'm just not built to sustain that gait.  I kept thinking I was gonna trip.

By the time I reached the bottom, with only one mile of rollers to go, I was at an average pace of 6:56.  Knowing I still had to bike 12 miles home, I allowed myself to stop at the drinking fountain again, but only for 20 seconds.  I counted them off in my head as I gulped from the pitifully weak fountain as fast as I could.

I tore up the last 3/4 mile, including another sprint down that first hill, finishing with an average pace of 6:52.  Now that's getting it done.  Later, I looked at the GPS data and saw that my 11 miles had 1,600 feet of climbing.  That's about on par with a few of the harder Coastal Trail Runs, and that's saying something.  To think that I did it at a pace like that...!

Overall, it was a great run.  Tough miles, but that's what makes you better.  I only wish I'd started going hear a long time ago.  I'm trying to imagine grinding through a 20-mile long training run here.  How tough that would make you!  Love the place, love the course, love the scenery, only wish it was unpaved.

Gain and Loss

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I picked up a few pounds while I was in Germany.  Two weeks of no training, along with plenty of beer, sausage, and local pastries, will do that to you.  When I returned, I weighed five pounds more than when I left.  That might not seem like so much, but on a small guy like me, that's kind of a lot, especially for only two weeks.

Less than 48 hours after I landed, I had a race, and a week later, another one.  I did pretty well on the first, probably because it was all flat and downhill.  But the second, which had a ton of climbing, not so much.  I'm guessing those extra pounds didn't help.

Getting back into a healthy routine has been pretty hard, too.  I just got so used to fatty foods, sweets, and having wine or beer with every dinner.  And for whatever reason, I was eating huge portions, too.  I guess I got used to that, and working at Google, it's very easy to eat whatever you want, and a lot of it.  So I continued.

Slowly, I was able to eat meat less often, get dessert less often, and lay off the snacks.  I missed my morning run less and less often, and my pace even started creeping back towards normal, pre-Germany levels.  I was eating better, running faster, feeling great!

Then a couple things happened.

1.  I had a cyst removed.  No big deal, but I got a couple stitches, and the doctor told me I couldn't exercise for a few days.

2.  It was my last week at Google.  You know what that means.

I ate so much damn food, it's not even funny.  And I wasn't going for the healthy stuff either, oh no.  But hey, it was my last chance to enjoy one of the most-loved perks of being a Googler, and I'll be damned if I wasn't gonna take advantage of it.

My last day there, I went to a cafe I usually don't for breakfast, and they had breakfast tacos and French toast with real maple syrup.  I almost cried.  It was like they knew.

Still, I think only two days is going to be a much easier bounce-back than two whole weeks, and now I'm going to be quitting on the food luxuries cold turkey.  And for the first time in months, I'm going on a long training run tomorrow.

Yes, months.

Every weekend for the past several months, I've been unable to work in a long training run.  First it was the Second Gauntlet, then the Wine Tour, then another race, then Germany, then two more races, and literally three months later, I'm finally going on a long training run.  I almost forgot what they feel like.  The next three weekends each have a race, and I'm moving back to Texas right after that, so this will actually be my last-ever long training run in California.  Better make it a good one.

Shoe Review - Brooks Ghost 4

Specs
Advertised Weight:  11.5 oz. (size not specified)
Actual Weight:  11.9 oz. (men's 9.5)
Heel-toe drop:  11.1 mm

Miles Logged:  ~300
Tagline:  "Friendly to a variety of runners across the neutral spectrum, this shoe delivers bounce and balance."

I got these shoes roughly two years ago, and by now, the Ghost 6 has been released.  So you're not likely to read this review and then go out and buy them, because by now, you won't find them.  Still, you might get an idea of the Ghost line from this, and I mostly write these reviews for fun anyway.  In any case, here's a review of an everyday trainer that can be used for almost anything.

The fit of the Ghost 4 is very standard; almost exactly what you would expect.  The few exceptions are at the toe and heel, both of which are a little roomy.  Lots of people tend to like a roomy toebox, only I personally found it to have a little too much room, not that it was uncomfortable or negatively affects my running, but it just seemed like an unnecessary amount of space.  With the heel, it doesn't quite form a grip, so your heel is going to slip just a bit on every step.  Still, it seems like that's done by design, like that's supposed to happen, and the rest of the shoe fits so well you don't feel like anything is anywhere it shouldn't be.  And as soon as your foot comes off the ground, the shoe snaps right back into place against your heel.  It takes a little getting used to, but it becomes a non-issue, and overall, the shoe has a good fit and feel.

Like many/most/all Brooks shoes, this one feels pretty cushy.  I always feel like I'm almost sinking into a Brooks shoe.  That being said, they're some of the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn when it comes to point of impact.  When this shoe first came out, Brooks was making a lot about its new DNA gel.  If that's the stuff making these shoes as comfy as they are for long runs, I call that stuff a huge success.  Two generations later, they're still using it, so it must be good stuff.

With a traditional drop, these shoes are probably intended for heel-strikers first, midfoot-strikers are OK too.  That being said, there's hardly any pronation control (if any), so it does have a natural feel to it.  The shoe does have a slightly wide base, so if you're new to a neutral shoe or something with a more natural ride, this provides a touch of stability and could be a good transition into a shoe that offers "less."

On the outsole, Brooks elects to use a fairly durable material throughout, with a slightly aggressive tread for a road shoe.  This makes the shoe last longer and overall makes it ready for any surface, though it does add a little weight (more on that later).  I've run on nearly every surface with this shoe - track, concrete, asphalt, packed dirt, loose gravel, and sand - and it handles all of them reasonably well, if not admirably.  These are truly a do-anything, run-anywhere shoe.

The weight is somewhat of a concern - 12 ounces is a little high for any road shoe.  And I'm personally trying to make a transition to somewhat lower-drop shoes, so anything above 10 mm is a little excessive, and I generally try to stay between 4-8 mm.  That being said, when I go on vacation and only bring one pair of running shoes, this is the pair I bring.  I can lace these up and do pretty much any run with confidence.  And since these shoes are primarily intended for training, extra weight isn't such a big deal.  I like it when on race day, I put on my lighter shoes and instantly get a speed boost.

If it were up to me, I'd reduce the width, shrink the toebox a little, lower the drop to 8 mm, and probably find ways to shed weight on both the upper and the outsole, thereby reducing the shoe's weight to around 10.5 ounces (a very small amount of research indicates that describes the Ghost 6 very well).  But that's bordering on nitpicky.  This shoe is meant for every day, all-purpose training, and if a little extra helps it accomplish that, I'll allow it.  I like this shoe a lot, especially its versatility, but it's a little too conservative/safe to allow me to put it over the top.  Good, not great.

Oh, and it only came in white.  Boo!  Not only is white boring, but white shoes don't stay white for long.  Fortunately, this has since been fixed in later models (sort of - they're still not pretty).

Bottom Line

Thumbs up

Best Use:  everyday trainer, pavement first, trail capable, perhaps long races (if speed is not a concern)

Pros:  comfortable, overall good fit, versatility

Cons:  a little heavy, possibly too much room in toebox and heel, higher drop than some might like, just a little "too much shoe" in all facets, poor color