Tag Archives: science

I watch the ripples change their size

Last week I participated in a video running analysis.  I confirmed that a few suspected quirks in my running form are actual problems that are slowing me down.  Continue reading

Mixed Tapes Volume 7

Nice legs, shame about her face

Why must my nose run when I run?  Blah, blah, scientific explanation, but what about a cure?  I’m tired of washing my mittens after every run.

Title: The Monks – Nice Legs Shame About Her Face.  1979.

25 or 6 to 4

The weekend.  You know what that means.  Movie night.  Or a video sourced out by the Endorphin Junkie night.  

How many martini glasses could you fill with all the sweat that pours off the runners during the race?  Possible answers to improbable questions about the Boston Marathon.  Enjoy Boston by the numbers, as calculated by a math guy, not a running guy.  Featuring The Fermi Equation. 

p.s. I have Boston regret.  Just a wee bit.  This too shall pass. 

Title Reference: Chicago – 25 or 6 to 4.  1970.

One pill makes you larger, one pill makes you small

On an average day ten Viagra advertisements (I always misspell Viagra as Viagara, as in Niagara Falls, except Viagara Falls may not be the most encouraging tagline for this particular drug) are handily delivered to my various inboxes.  Another ten times a day I’m reminded that I spent way to much time and money earning all those degrees.  Online degree!  Only $199!! 

Recently the Viagra drug pushers found my blog.  The spam filters have managed to trap most of the messages, but if my posts suddenly seem more graphic than usual you can assume I was overthrown by one of pills, porn, and poker.  Or perhaps not.  Maybe the spambots are onto something.  Targeted marketing, Facebook style.  Viagra, afterall, is a potential performance enhancer.  And by performance I mean running performance.  As of 2010 the World Anit-Doping Agency has not added Viagra to the list of banned substances, but studies are ongoing and WADA has taken a wait and see approach.  In London 2012 there may be some very lonely weight lifters. 

 A 2004 study with cyclists found up to a 45% performance boost from Viagra in a high altitude training simulationThat’s better than beetroot juice.  Presumably runners would enjoy similar benefits.  Victor Conte once revealed that a number of his athletes took Viagra.  We don’t know if he counts the disgraced Marion Jones among them.  Consider this (my source, Runner’s World):  In an average marathon 10.4% of runners qualify for Boston, but a whopping 17% of men aged 65-69 BQ compared to a mere 7.9% of men (and women) under 34.  Moreover, the average age at Boston is older than the nation average.  Perhaps now we know the little blue diamond-shaped source of this older male Boston boost?

Title Reference: Jefferson Airplane – White Rabbit.  1967.

My smile looks out of place

In 1969 Kubler-Ross published the 5 Stages of Grief.  The stages are most commonly experienced by those suffering a loss through death, but also a personal loss such as job loss, divorce, or according to Wikipedia, “the ultimate demise of a favorite sporting team’s magical season”.   There is no team I like that much.  I propose one addition to that list, the running of a marathon.  The Five Stages of Marathoning.  As Kubler-Ross explains, most people will experience at least two of the five stages.  During a typical 42.2K race I experience all the stages, some more than once.  Some on repeat. 

Denial — “Everything is okay.  My IT Band won’t play a harrowing tune today.  That stomach flu has cleared up.  Even though I skipped all of my speed training sessions I’m ready“.  I enjoy denial.  That wonderful moment when you can convince yourself everything will be Fine even though all arrows point to Not Fine.  It’s a shame denial is so temporary.  And followed by crushing reality.

Anger — “Why do I have crappy genetics?  Where are my fast twitch fibres?“.  Those in the angry stage have a raging case of the Why Mes and the Not Fairs.  They envy the “easy” run of others and are looking for someone to blame for their misfortune.  This is why you need to test drive your running partners, lest you become the recipient of misguided run rage.  I, for that very reason, race alone.  A friend who happens to be a divorce lawyer once joked that Las Vegas Marathon has a run-through wedding around 8K so he should set up a run through divorce at 35K.  A honeymoon to The Wall can get messy.  I think his would be the busier of the run-throughs. 

Bargaining — “Just let me make it to the finish line and I’ll give all my sneakers to Shoes4Africa“.   With bargaining there is hope that the inevitable can be postponed, usually by negotiating with a higher power for a better outcome in exchange for a reformed lifestyle.  You’ll never skip a run again.  You will only eat organic fair trade chocolate.  They say people find religion as they try to run through The Wall.  They are right.

Depression — “What does it matter, I should just quit right now.  It’s just a stupid race I don’t care about my time goal.  I can’t believe I paid money to do this.“  As reality takes hold and the runner begins to understand the certainly of their pain and anguish hopelessness sets in.  If you see someone at mile 22 sobbing on the sidelines and shaking their fist at the heavens chances are they in deep.  

Acceptance — “So what if I can’t beat Oprah.  She had an entourage of trainers and I’m pounding the pavement alone.  It’s okay that I missed my goal time, finishing is the real reward.  One more kilometre and then I ever have to do this again.“.   In the final stage there is peace with accepting the inevitable.  A missed time goal.  A DNF.  A shuffle instead of a kick across the finish.  The runner understands that the struggle is almost over.   The end is near.  You’ll never do this again.  Until you do.

Title Reference: Smokey Robinson and The Miracles - The Tracks of My Tears.  From the album Going to a Go-Go.  1965.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

After a tough run I head to the fridge and pour a tall glass of chocolate milk.  Which I drink with animal cookies.  Eaten head first.  By the time I stretch, travel home, shower, and start to prepare (or, more accurately, wait for Husband to prepare) dinner the elapsed time is in the ninety minute range.  A quick chug of chocolate milk tames my hungry stomach and feeds my glycogen resynthesis during that critical refueling window.  Time and time again I’ve heard (and said) that chocolate milk is a great post-run drink, but I’ve never read the research backing up that claim.  Maybe it’s all a big marketing ploy by clever folks at the Dairy Council of Canada. 

In conducting my “research” (fine, googling “running + chocolate milk”) all roads led me to a 2006 study by Karp and colleagues.  They compared the effects of chocolate milk, a carbohydrate replacement drink (a drink with a high carb concentration, plus protein, e.g. Endurox) and general fluid replacement (a drink with fewer carbs, but also with electrolytes, e.g. Gatorade) on a tough post-recovery workout.  Given that chocolate milk has the 4:1 carbs:protein ratio found to hasten glycogen recovery and improve endurance, the authors suspected it would be a suitable option for refueling our tired muscles.  Lots of investigators have studied those specially formulated sport drinks marketed to athletes, but chocolate milk had never been subject to scientific scrutiny.  With the advantage of easy access and relative lower cost, it is an appealing alternative.  That and it is deliciously refreshing.  And chocolaty, which automatically trumps the unidentifiable Gatorade “hot pink” flavour.  Because, I’ll be honest, if you don’t like chocolate there is something wrong with you.  Chocolaty drinks are so awesome that I have a lame nickname for both hot and cold chocolate milk (ho-cho and co-cho, respectively).  There was a need – a need! - in my life to shorten the names of my most frequently consumed drinks so that I can make my thirst demands more quickly known.  “Co-cho, stat!” is much more efficient than the awkward “cold chocolate milk, stat!”. 

To study chocolate milk as a recovery aid Karp and his co-authors recruited a group of willing cyclists.  First the volunteer spinners cycled hard intervals until they reached a state of glycogen depletion.  During the post-workout recovery they drank chocolate milk, a carb replacement drink, or a fluid replacement drink (each cyclist went through the experiment three times, trying a different drink each time).  An endurance test of cycling to exhaustion followed the four hours of rest and drinking.  The time to exhaustion was 54% longer after consuming chocolate milk compared to the carbohydrate replacement.  The fluid replacement results were similar to the chocolate milk (49% longer to exhaustion as compared to the carbohydrate replacement drink), despite a lower carbohydrate concentration.  Carbs, it seems, quickly refuel us for our next tough challenge.  The authors suspect differences in the type of carbohydrate are important – not all carbs are created equal.  The chocolate milk and fluid replacement drinks were similar in carbohydrate composition (glucose, fructose, sucrose), whereas the carbohydrate replacement drink contained more complex carbohydrates (maltodextrin).  In the four hour recovery window only the simpler carbohydrates were completely digested, thus benefiting the second workout.  The authors also speculate that drinking low-fat chocolate milk would improve performance even more, especially compared to the fluid replacement drink, because the fat in the regular chocolate milk the study riders consumed may have delayed glycogen synthesis.  With low fat chocolate milk, they hypothesize, there would have been a greater endurance benefit for chocolate milk compared to fluid replacement (read: Gatorade). 

Although chocolate milk did not emerge as a stand alone winner, it works at least as well as (maybe better than) commercial recovery products.  I should note that this study was supported by the Dairy and Nutrition Council, Inc; but the methodology and results are sound and I don’t think the ‘milk does a body good’ conclusion was skewed to appease the funders.  Whew, I’m not drinking in vain (at least not my chocolate milk drinking habit).   Bottoms up.  
 
 
 
Reference:  Karp, J.R., et al. (2006). Chocolate milk as a post-exercise recovery aid.  International Journal of Sport Nutrition and Exercise Metabolism, 16, pp 78-91.

Fox on the run

I admit it, in the 80s I had a Tiger Beat poster of Micheal J. Fox hanging on my bedroom wall. 

 Alex P. Keaton

Perhaps too young to realize we were politically-opposed, I was strangely drawn to the boyish Alex P. Keaton.  Today I’m drawn to Michael J. Fox and his active role in bringing awareness and funding to Parkinson’s Disease. 

As a researcher, I understand the difficulty of securing funds.  The kind of cutting edge research necessary to make the discoveries that will lead to a PD cure or life-changing interventions is not cheap and the MJF Foundation gives a huge percentage of money collected directly to the researchers (sadly, not all charities can boast the same).  I am thrilled that Husband will be running the New York City Marathon with me as a proud member of Team Fox.  The NYC Marathon is one of their marquee events.  In Fox’s own words, “The marathon is an amazing thing for me.  When my daughter was born I remember holding her and standing at the window of the hospital watching the runners go by and being inspired by them.  Now specifically to see the Team Fox runners go by, it’s just a tremendous feeling.  What more can you sacrifice than your body, your stamina, your drive, your determination to succeed and to give that towards the work that we do is something I’m tremendously grateful for.”   In this touching Team Fox video clip one woman tells “Mr. Fox ” she would run a 100 miles for him”.  Adorably he smiles and goes, “well, 26 will be good”. 

As a Team Fox runner Husband is committed to raising $2500 for the foundation.  If you find some spare change in your wallet to pledge his way I’m certain the good running karma will find it’s way back to you (and not just in the form of a tax receipt).  That’s how it works, as dictated by the karma tracking Running Gods.  If not for Husband, Michael J. Fox, or Parkinson’s Disease, consider a contribution as a thank you to me for amusing you four to five times a week with my running ramblings.  

The war against Parkinson’s is a winnable war, and you can play a part in that victory.  

Michael J. Fox.

 

Title Reference: Sweet – Fox on the Run.  From the album Desolution Boulevard.  1975.

Miles to go before I sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub (Shakespeare as Hamlet said that, not me – and I’m not suicidal, I just like the quote).  I worry my lack of sleep is negatively impacting my training (not to mention my thinking).  The Runner’s World “Sleep Rule” states that a runner needs one extra minute of sleep per night for every mile ran per week.  That means if you, like me, run about 30 miles a week you need an extra 30 minutes a night of sleep.  30 minutes in addition to my basic sleep requirements, egads!  Not only do I not get the extra siesta time needed to compensate for my training, I don’t even get the minimal amount of sleep my body needs for regular life.  I am accumulating a sleep debt at a rate of one to two hours a night.  My legs are no longer responding to direct commands from my brain.  I think they are too tired to listen.

We all know that a night’s slumber is restorative, yet in a busy schedule sleep is often one of the first things we sacrifice.  For a runner, sleep is when we recover from our workouts.  The possible consequences of sleep deprivation are scary.  Banks and Dinges (2007) succinctly sum up the body of research, “laboratory studies of experimental restricted sleep in healthy adults suggest some mechanisms by which sleep duration may influence obesity, morbidity, and mortality”.  Although the mechanisms under which sleep promotes health are not fully understood, adverse effects of deprivation are well-documented.  Your endocrine, metabolic, immune, and cardiovascular systems may all be compromised if you deprive yourself of rest.  For example, when you snooze the pituitary gland releases the all-natural HGH (human growth hormone), infamous for its banned performance-enhancing effects, which builds and repairs our muscle and bone tissue.  No sleep, no growth hormone.  The sleep-deprived also have increased odds of a “cardiovascular event”.  Cardiovascular event is code for a 41.1K heart attack.  I don’t want to be alarmist, but sleep doesn’t get the props it deserves.  Banks and Dinges do note that people differ markedly in their responses to sleep debt, so some fortunate runners can get away with counting fewer sheep. 

Inadequate physiological recovery means that an athlete will not be able to perform to their maximum capacity, they won’t recover as fully or as quickly, and they become more susceptible to chronic training fatigue, overtraining syndrome, and injury.  Inadequate psychological recovery means that you may not have the will to run or you may not have much fun when you do put on those trainers.  So it seems obvious, get a good night’s sleep!  But what does that mean?  Most people fixate on the time spent horizontal in bed, but there is more to a healthy sleep than the hours of rest.  Charles Samuels (2008) nicely summarizes the key elements of our sleep-state that effect athletic performance and post-exercise recovery:

1.  Sleep Requirement:  The total sleep time is critical, but the required duration varies substantially among individuals.  A lucky few are ready to run after a few hours, others can barely function on less than ten.  On vacation, away from the demands of life, I naturally sleep the traditional eight-hours a night.  That’s an indicator that my magic number is eight, plus the extra 35 minutes needed to compensate for training.  That’s one out of three.
2.  Sleep Quality:  You may be sleeping for a long time, but are those forty winks high quality?  Non-restorative sleep is characterized by sleep fragmented with periods of arousal without full-awakening or light sleep with recurrent awakening.  I am a classic light-sleeper, awakened by even a light breeze.  That’s two out of three.
3.  Sleep Timing:  We all have a preferred sleep cycle determined by both genetics and the environment.  Often we can not match our circadian-driven sleep schedule to the demands of our lives.  For instance, Night Owls like me are often forced to wake earlier than optimal for jobs and long runs, but have difficulty compensating by going to bed earlier than our cycle allows.  As a result we miss critical periods of REM and slow-wave sleep.  That’s three out of three.

Seems I have cause for concern.  Although the night calls, my training goal for August is all about the eight-hour lie-down.  Carbo-loading is out, sleep-loading is in.

 

Reference: Samuels, C. (2008). Sleep, recovery, and performance: The new frontier in high performance athletics. Neurologic Clinics, 26, 169–180.

Reference: Banks, S. & Dinges D.F. (2007). Behavioral and physiological consequences of sleep restriction. Journal of Clinical Sleep Medicine, 3(5), 519-528.

Title Reference: Robert Frost – Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. 1923.

This %*#! is bananas

I still remember the first time I swore.  I was in the sixth grade.  I shocked myself at the slip of my tongue, worried about the repercussions of uttering a foul word in the school yard.  Fortunately my minor misdeed went unnoticed by my teachers and my permanent record remained unblemished (until I brought my older cousin’s ‘boys in swimwear’ calendar to school in grade eight).  I don’t think I swore for another three years.  I just don’t have a potty-mouth.  Husband tends to giggle when I swear, the words sound so unnatural.  Cussing remains a linguistic taboo and even the most prolific of swearers will show restraint at the office or around small children.  To this day my own swearing is restricted to late-night toe stubbings, bumping my ill-named “funny bone” on my desk, and computer malfunctions.  Why do the expletives flow when I’m in pain or deeply frustrated? 
 
Stephens and colleagues (2009) studied the relation between swearing and the experience of pain.  Many assume that swearing as a response to pain is maladaptive.  By encouraging catastrophising and drawing focus to negative thoughts and ideas, swearing is thought to decrease pain tolerance and increase pain awareness.  The presumed result?  More pain.  However, this hypothesis had never been empirically tested.  The researchers questioned the dogma, wondering why a curse-filled response to pain was so prolific if swearing only serves to exacerbate the negative sensations.  Anecdotally, many people feel a release of pain with a well-timed curse.  I will admit to a less than ladylike thought or two during a particularly tough slog.  I call it the “angry run” and I get some sort of weird boost of power when I’m completely PO’d.  It may be a psychological placebo, but dark thoughts do sometime help me get to the metaphorical finish line.  I’ve heard more than a few runners curse hills, the wall, the runners around them, and the air they are breathing, so this is not an unheard of reaction to a challenging run.  Would we be better off thinking about rainbows and lollipops or should we let the swear words fly?  As Stephens et al. asked, will a good blasphemy minimize our (aches and) pains?

Pain, in their study, was measured by submerging the unclenched nondominant hand in freezing water for as long as possible.  During submersion, participants either repeatedly uttered a cuss word or a neutral word of their choice.  As it turns out, people can handle more pain for a longer duration when swearing.   Both pain tolerance increased and pain perception decreased, opposite to what one would predict under a “swearing is maladaptive” hypothesis.  Profanities, it seems, are hypoalgesic – they serve to lessen the experience of pain.  Furthermore, fear of pain typically predicts pain, except when one is swearing.  This hypoalgesic effect may, in part, stem from a reduction in the aspect of the pain experience that is caused or exacerbated by the fear of pain.  Think about the pain you fear.  Now imagine ameliorating that pain simply by cursing a little mantra.  F-bombing The Wall comes to mind.  Telling the DOMS to go to H-E-Double-hockey-sticks.  That sort of thing.  
 
Is it true that women can handle more pain?  In this study men were able to tolerate the cold water for longer, although both men and women showed similar increases in tolerance under conditions of swearing.   Interestingly though, swearing offers the gals more relief from their perceived pain.  Perhaps because men swear more often than women the words become less potent and therefore less effective at reducing perceived pain.  Over-use it and lose it!  Although females report more pain catastrophising than men, only catastrophising males showed a diminished hypoalgesic effect.  Once a man starts exaggerating and fixating on the pain no amount of swearing can help him, but even the most embellishing of women can still benefit from a linguistic release.  Uttering a profanity may help some of the people some of the time, but it isn’t a cure-all.
 
Why does swearing make you feel better?  Theories abound, mostly emphasizing the emotional networks in the brain.  The limbic system, in response to a threat, will initiate a fight-or-flight response.  The classic fear response is characterized by an increased heart rate, a state of readiness, and pain inhibition.   Swearing, by eliciting an alarm reaction, may initiate that same fight or flight response.  The authors speculate that aggression, rather than fear, may underlie the alarm response generated by swearing.  Swearing, they propose, “may serve to raise levels of aggression, downplaying feebleness in favour of a more pain-tolerant machismo”.   If you need a little “pain-tolerant machismo” during your next tough run try the R-rated blue streak.

 

Reference:  Stephens, R., Atkins, J., & Kingston, A.  (2009).  Swearing as a response to pain.  NeuroReport, 20, 1056-1060.

Title Reference:  Gwen Stefani – Hollaback Girl.  From the album Love. Angel. Music. Baby.  2005.

Let’s get physical

Aging boomers are flocking to buy the latest mind teasers and crossword puzzles in hopes of delaying the inevitable cognitive decline.  With an unsettling family history of Alzheimer’s disease I’m willing to try anything.  The jury is still out on the benefits of popular brain games, but the evidence linking physical activity to preserved and even restored cognition is impressive.  As Kramer and Erickson (2007) highlight in their review, as a “successful aging” product exercise is ideal in that it is cheap, low tech, and readily available.   Perhaps you don’t need to teach grandpa how to use your Nintendo DS or trick grandma into swallowing a ginko pill, just take them out for an after dinner walk.  My plan to run 100 marathons before I turn 100 may not be so crazy after all.  Exercise, it does a body mind good.

Is exercise really a magic bullet?  Kramer and Erickson uncovered a slew of observational studies reporting a reduction in the risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia in physically active individuals.  Randomized control trials, the gold standard in intervention research, also clearly show that exercise benefits cognition.  That’s the good news.  The bad news? There is no one-size fits all formula.  Three to five times a week for thirty minutes is a solid prescription, but as the warning goes – results may vary.  The nature of the activity, the frequency, intensity, and duration, your age, and those pesky genetic factors all play a role.  Even specific aspects of cognition benefit differentially with exercise.  That means that you may see improvement with some types of cognitive tasks, but not others.  Executive functioning abilities (which includes skills such as planning, organizing, decision-making, inhibition, task-switching and working memory) reap great reward when an individual breaks a sweat.  Lucky for us, if one were to pick a cognitive process to improve executive functioning skills would be at the top of most lists. 

Not as clear is the direct impact of fitness on brain structure and function.  Gray matter volumes and neuronal activation have both been shown to change after time spent in a exercise training program.  The brain changes presumably parallel reported improvements in cognitive performance, but more research is necessary before drawing causal conclusions.  Still, it is exciting to think that by going for a run we may be modifying our brains for the better.  Picture very footstep as new or strengthened neural connection.  That’ll get you moving.  Animal research supports this notion of exercise-induced neural plasticity.  With ample wheel time lab rats (actual rats, not the scientists) show gains in performance on memory tasks and growth in the brain regions underlying memory function.  These results are heartening, as memory is a primary area of concern for many aging adults.  Where did I put those keys?  Did I lock the door?  It’s already a concern for this not-old-but-not-as-young-as-she’d-like-to-be adult.  So what we all need is a people-sized rat wheel.  I suppose that would be a treadmill.

So, is exercise a magic bullet?  A little bit yes, but there is more to the story.  Exercise improves cognitive function through several routes.  As noted, positive changes in brain structure and function can lead to cognitive improvements.  Moreover, fit people have a reduced risk of cardiovascular disease, certain cancers, obesity, and diabetes, all of which are risk factors for age-related neurological disorders.  Eliminate the disease and reduce the risk of disease-related dementias.  Complicating matters, exercise interacts with other critical factors, such as diet (exercises may be more apt to eat a more healthful diet), socialization (another reason to run with a club), and hormone levels (exercise and estrogen are closely tied).  Most of us do not exercise in isolation from a host of lifestyle choices that may also be important in postponing (or accelerating, depending on the lifestyle choices) cognitive decline. 

Although there is no panacea or fountain of youth, running may take you on the long road to age-related cognitive decline.  This is one instance when you want to avoid shortcuts.  No pain no gain no brain?

 

Reference:  Kramer, A.F. & Erickson, K.I. (2007).  Capitalizing on cortical plasticity: Influence of physical activity on cognition and brain function.  Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 11, 342-348.

Title Reference:  Olivia Newton John – Physical.  From the album physical. 1981.

Running Is Its Own Reward

Time and time again it comes to my attention that a sizeable segment of the population are under the impression that people run for one reason and one reason only: to lose weight.  As a slender gal, I’m often asked why I run when I don’t “need” to run.  Why would I exert the effort if not for reasons of appearance?  It’s madness.  Based on the “skinny = why bother to run” theory, health is irrelevant.  Afterall, it’s all about the number on the scale.   Perhaps I should just enjoy my genetic blessings, flop myself on the sofa, eat bonbons, and watch TV.  Ok, I do that too.  There are many reasons why I run and weight control does not make my top ten list.  And given the amount I eat during training, it would be a doomed endeavour anyway.

I find this personal experience interesting in light of recent research conducted by Havenar and Lochbaum.  They studied individuals training for their first marathon to assess differences in motivation between the successful rookies (those who ran the marathon) and the dropouts.  Perhaps not surprisingly, 70% of the original participants quit during training and did not run the marathon.  Using the Motivations of Marathoners Scale (MOMS) the authors found three measures that differentiated the finishers and dropouts: weight concerns and social motives (social recognition and affiliation).  In all cases the dropouts rated those motivators, especially weight concerns, more highly than did the finishers.  The results “suggest that weight concern and recognition motives among first time marathoners are possible predictors of premature disseveration from the training program”.  That is, they dropout.  It seems that the will to get skinny isn’t enough to get you across that finish line.

Ref: Havenar, J. & Lochbaum, M. (2007).  Differences in participation motives of first-time marathon finishers and pre-race dropouts.  Journal of Sport Behavior, 30, 270-279.

The Long and the Short of It

I have long slender fingers.  People tell me they are perfect piano playing fingers.  With no musical gifts whatsoever, those fingers are wasted potential. I also have long(ish) slender toes.  They are a genetic gift from my father.  Beyond intense frustration when trying to buy flip-flops or the occasional post-race toe rehab, I don’t spend much time thinking about my toes.  I especially don’t spend time thinking about how my toes may be negatively impacting my running.  Or I didn’t, until now.

In a recently published article in the Journal of Experimental Biology, Rolian and colleagues found that a mere 20% increase in toe length over average leads to greater mechanical work in stabilizing the metatarsophalangeal joints and controlling the forward motion of the centre of mass during propulsion.  They presume (but didn’t directly test) additional mechanical work translates to increased metabolic costs of locomotion.  In practical terms the reduced mechanical performance and higher metabolic costs of long toes are suggestive of injury susceptibility.  The authors specifically point to situations in which the toes are loaded for long periods of time – such as during a marathon.  The extra forces could accelerate the onset of muscle fatigue, which tends to lead to alterations in loading (we change our biomechanics slightly so as to reduce pressure on the fatigued areas).  Possible long term outcomes include metatarsal stress fractures and increased wear and tear on the tendons culminating in microtraumas and tendon failure.  The latter issue, tendon stress, fatigue, and failure, has plagued me through the years.  Perhaps my little piggies are to blame.

The authors place this research in the context of evolution.  Short human toes (or more precisely, the phalangeal portion of the forefoot) differ from extant non-human hominoids (like chimps, gorillas, orangutans, gibbons) and earlier hominins.  Presumably a set of physical and behavioural adaptations for endurance running, including short toes, were selected for over the course of human evolution.  Our short-toed ancestors would have been more efficient runners, a fine skill when running was critical to survival.  Poor Australopithecus, with their long lateral toes, could not forage as far or as long as their shorter-toed brethren.  Modern humans with Australopithecus-like toes (approximately 40% longer than average) are similarly disadvantaged.  Somehow surviving natural selection, we still face an increased risk of injury during distance running.  I suppose non-running modern humans with long toes aren’t bothered much by the ends of their feet.  My anthropology loving friend has awesomely dubbed my disadvantaged digits “Lucy Toes”.   Those of you with more evolved Lilliputian-sized toes – rejoice, advantage one.

Epilogue:  Since originally posting this article I did what any good scientist would do.  I measured my toes. To my surprise, my increase over average is a mere 10% – less than the 20% found to mess up running.  I’m on the search for a new evolutionary excuse for my less than elite times.

Ref: Rolian C, Lieberman DE, Hamill J, Scott JW, Werbel W. Walking, running and the evolution of short toes in humans. J Exp Biol. 2009. Mar;212(Pt 5):713-21.