Shoe Review: Asics GEL-Nimbus 11

Prologue

I was in the middle of a workout one sunny June morning when I stepped on something sticky. Bubble gum! I stopped and tried to rub it out on the grass to no avail. So, I got a stick, removed my shoe and started picking out the gum. It was only then that I noticed the condition of the outsole.  It has thinned considerably and the edges at the heel side were worn out.  I bought the shoes, Asics Gel-Bandito, last February and it has logged over 900 kilometers using it in training and races under heat and rain whether day or night. I knew that I would need a new pair very soon.

It was early August when a family friend arrived from his visit to the US.  We met him and he

brought with him a package long awaited.   After chit-chat, that seemed to have lasted hours, I finally laid my itching fingers on the shoe box.  I opened the lid, and there it was, my new Asics GEL-Nimbus 11.  I got one of the shoes out and smelled it with gusto.  Hmmm, nothing beats the smell of a new, unworn shoe!

Looks. I scrutinized every nook and corners. The workmanship was excellent. No smudges, no loose threads, edges trimmed without excesses. It does not have a handsome look, rather, it looked very mean. It must be the color – it was a combination of black, silver and onyx. There are other colors available – the “tisoy” types which most probably are more appealing to the eyes.

Fit. I put on the shoes and immediately, I felt very tall, I thought my head would brush the ceiling. Layers of

cushioning materials contributed to that extra height. I tried to walk a

few meters and back. The fit was nice and very comfortable. I could feel room on the toe area and was able to make small toe sweeps. I jogged around the house and noticed that the midfoot was snugly held preventing any forward or backward slides. This could be one of the benefits of its unorthodox asymmetrical lacing system.

Break in. After a couple of days, the shoes first tasted the pavement during the Kenny Rogers Urbanite night race. I ran a pre-race 10K before pacing my wife in the 15K race. In both runs, the pace was easy. I had a comfortable run with the shoes, the cushioning system very distinct as compared to my old racer. No blisters, no foot aches, no cramps, no knee knocks. So far, so good.

I used the shoes in my subsequent workouts.  An easy 10K on the concrete roads of Southwoods, a 12K tempo night rendezvous at Filinvest, Alabang and a 10 miles Sunday race at UP.  I experienced the same comfy foot treatment. I also noticed that my feet did not heat up in the thick of the exercise unlike other shoes that I have tried. I thought the top open mesh design allowed adequate heat exchange.

Benchmark. The Bandito and the Nimbus 11 are of different classes, the former, a racer, while the latter, a trainer. But I can’t help comparing both in terms of comfort and performance.

The Nimbus 11 is a far more comfortable shoe. The Nimbus 11’s cushioning and fit systems work in perfect unison bringing ease and stability to every foot strike.

On the downside, the Nimbus 11 is a heavy burden. The Bandito’s 223 grams is like a feather compared to the Nimbus 11’s 340 grams. In a fast pace workout, the weight drag is very palpable. In the Botak 10 miler, I missed my target 1:20 finish by a couple of minutes and the Nimbus 11 is one of the suspects among others. Furthermore, the Bandito’s lower sole profile makes the foot go closer to the ground which is preferable at high speeds. There is a bigger chance of a sprain injury on the Nimbus 11 in that aspect.

Verdict. The US$125 Nimbus 11 is a well-cushioned neutral shoe and I could imagine myself loving the comfort it provides during training especially on long runs. While I mentioned that the likely injury for this shoe are the ankles, on the other hand, the calf, knees and upper limbs are well protected from reflected shockwaves of a foot strike. I would still use my Bandito for races up to 21K particularly when running for PR.

Epilogue

I was trying both shoes in a speed workout. I used the Nimbus 11 for the warm up rounds then changed to the Bandito for the interval runs. I was not surprised to see faster splits. I concluded that the Nimbus 11 was a worthy purchase for the purpose it was made. I have no doubts that the shoes were built to last. The Bandito has logged a total of 1,063 kilometers and looking at its state, I thought I could still squeeze a couple of hundreds more! They really built these shoes tough and strong. I would still be looking for a racer someday when I finally decommission the Bandito. Perhaps, I’ll get another Bandito. The Asics Piranha SP2 and Gel-Hyperspeed3 looked very promising as well.

PSE Bull Run: A day to celebrate

The usual festive scent of racing drifted in the air.  The waning dawn and cool winter temperature added to the feeling of anticipation.  It was the first race of the year and attendance was overwhelming.  The assembly area was packed with runners.  There were odd participants: contingencies from the Army and battalions of school boys and girls. The loudspeaker emitted the voice of a trying announcer while preparations were underway to start the race.  Signs and streamers of sponsors littered the venue.  I’ve recruited my wife to join and she was running the 3K event.  It was her first ever race but she was calm.  I could sense a feeling of wonder from her.  Perhaps wondering why and how a thousand bodies find pleasure and enjoyment in tiring themselves to death.  I hoped she would eventually be my willing and able lifetime running buddy.  Observing her discretely, I thought I will have my wishes.  My careful plans and moves were coming to sweet fruition.

I was listed in the 10K event with boss RM and colleague RC.  The three of us ran at the Runnex 25th Executive Classic a month before.  It was a story of exploits for me.  After over a decade and a half of absence, I finished just minutes over the hour mark ahead of my well-trained and well-equipped companions.  Somehow, that story has helped persuade other officemates to join the sport; BA and CT will be running their first race.  Together with OO, they were participants to the 5K event.  They were late, as expected.  RM had their race packs and was worried for them like a mother hen looking for missing chicks.  RC also had not arrived.  He probably lost his way again as in the previous race then would suddenly emerge at the head of the pack.  Hmmm, an eyebrow rising trend…

The 10K runners were called to their places.  I left my wife to the 3K assembly area and gave her my best wishes.  RC remained at the 5K area waiting impatiently.  I positioned myself in the middle of the thickening corral while the announcer exasperatedly tried to entertain the anxiously waiting racers.  JI greeted me as he walked towards the front of the dense pack.  He’s my old running chum during college years.  He cheered me at the Runnex and helped me prepare for this race.  I also saw NH, another college-days comrade.  He was at the Yakult 10 miler while JI and I were at the Runnex.  We gaily greeted each other and promised to talk after the race.  He was also moving forward.  By ethics, runners going strong were positioned at the front.  People were now shoulder-to-shoulder like cows herded inside a holding pen.  Fresh air seemed to be sucked down replaced by deep summer heat shimmering in the stillness.  The smell from hundreds of stomach permeated.  The announcer continued to irritate the ear.  Impatience and annoyance filled the atmosphere, a bad combination.

Finally, the minute countdown to start was announced with the arrival of a lady senator-runner.  That cheered the mob, oh, I mean the crowd.  I switched my Sony-Ericsson W800i to lap timer mode and held it tightly.  My pre-race ritual began involuntarily.  Bile started to rise threatening to empty my stomach.  Heart menacingly pounded the chest shaking the whole body.  Teary eyes almost bursting dam of water.  I wanted to snarl!

It was not the familiar “Pak!” of the gun that was heard but a “Clang! Clang!” of a bell that opened the floodgates that poured out people running finally out of the claustrophobic confines.  I commenced at a slow to moderate pace.  Many overtook me like a mad dash pursued by unseen horror.  After the stoplight, a number of male runners took advantage of a wall behind some trees and relieved themselves of their swelling bladders.  “Traitors!”

At the first kilometer point, I checked my phone-turned-stopwatch and it counted 6.5minutes.  Good pace!  I was going for a negative split to achieve my personal goal.  I came abreast a runner pushing the stroller of his disabled son.  I gave the boy a smile as I passed.  “Kudos to you, man!” I quietly murmured.

At the second kilometer, I took my water ration.  At that point I was searching for a pacer.  I saw a fair lady way ahead of me who seemed to have the same speed as I did.  I trotted quickly to catch up and matched her stride for stride inconspicuously.  Her black jersey and shorts further underlined her light skin and pretty face.  She wore a serious expression, a lady on a mission.  She was perspiring profusely but seemed to have an even breathing.  A perfect pacer indeed, steady stride, nice form and pleasant to look at.  What else would I have gazed at?  The scenery was not really enticing: stone houses, makeshift stores, small establishments and onlookers eyeing the lady that I was following.  I stayed with her for the next kilometers.  During that time, I started to appreciate my new ASICS Gel Bandito.  At the Runnex, I have on a NIKE basketball shoes that resulted in days of sore muscles, weeks of hurting knees and an ugly black big toenail that would probably last for months.  The ASICS was cool to the feet.   With the NIKE, my feet were like on top of a furnace.  The strike to the ground was also superior allowing easier rolling of the instep.  “It’s running shoes against basketball shoes, moron, why don’t you try to play hoops with the ASICS!” I chided myself.  One thing that I failed to discern was the advantage of a lighter weight.  The ASICS was half as heavy as the NIKE but I barely made out the difference at the thick of the run.  “Does a few ounces really make a difference?” I wondered.

Passing the fifth kilometer on the return route began the most challenging portion.  Aside from dodging cars, jeepneys and blaring motorcycles competing with the runners for road space, there was a long upward slope.  It was also time to increase my pace.  I obliged for a water stop and jogged to the foot of the slope while psyching myself of glories to gain and princess to rescue.  I could sense adrenaline rushing, and felt my face heating.  My back and arms felt icy.  As if with their own minds, my innards reacted to my dark plan.  My stomach complained of stiffness, my head paced in circles like a nervous groom and my kidneys were shouting for justice. At the base of the slope, I summoned my friend courage and started pumping more energy to my system.  I said my silent thanks and goodbyes to my pretty pacer and quicken my strides.  My thighs were straining as I battled the slope relentlessly.  I passed many runners and some dogs and cats.  At the top of the slope, my chest was pounding and my ears were throbbing.  It’s a flat path forward but another slope was on the far end.  So little time to recover and no time for water, I pushed on.

Emerging to the main street, Lawton Ave, I was almost out of breath.  I was puffing heavily through both mouth and nose.  My throat was parched.  I checked my phone cum timer; it was 20 minutes before the hour mark.  I reverted to my pre-slope-battle pace to allow myself to recover.  Upon reaching the McKinley Hill intersection, over 7 minutes had passed and I resumed my ground-eating run.  I was determined to beat the hour mark.  My aim was hindered by the increasing number of runners on the return route.  At this juncture, there was a mixture of 10K, 5K, 3K participants and fun run walkers to boot.  I was like a drunken driver crisscrossing the street in a slow traffic.  There was even an instance where I have to plough through interlinked walkers who seemed to barricade the road.

The last few hundred of meters encouraged faster pace short of sprinting.  It was a downward slope then a flat one.  I refrained to look at my phone-a-la-timer as I accepted the invitation to speed up.  I could see the corner where upon turning, the finish line would be just a few more huffs.  Faster.  I could smell success.  Just a little more.  I felt like a warrior slaying the 60 minute beast.  Go, go go! At the turn, I was met by a grim sight. Whoa! There were long lines of runners waiting to cross the line.  Chaos! I almost stopped, confused on where to go.  What the… A man directed me to the shorter 10K line.  Sigh… I reached the end of the 10K queue somewhere in the middle of the turning point and finish line.  Whew!  I stopped my timer; it read 55 min 37 seconds.  I’ve done it! But why did I get this feeling of constipation?

I saw my wife beside the official clock.  Oh, there’s the clock, I bet only a few noticed.  She was shouting 55.3 minutes with a broad smile in her radiant face.  I could tell she had a fine race and enjoying herself with the jovial atmosphere.  It took over 5 minutes before I reached the finish line.  My wife met me there.  CT and OO were also there smiling like knuckleheads.  They did not have their race number when they ran.  Both arrived late.  CT said he was just stepping out of his car when the starting bell clanged and he had to scramble wildly.  We were waiting for the whole gang to arrive.  RM and RC were still running, while BA could be roaming around.  I saw NH crossed the line later.  He was disgusted with the long queue.  Same complain can be heard from a number of lips like a bee swarm buzzing in agitation.

Even if my finish was quite anti-climactic, it was still a day of celebration.  I got my sub-1 hour finish, my wife and the boys had their first taste of a race and RC has ice-cold beers in his trunk.

The Price of Pride

The small holiday get-together of the once mountaineers were both nostalgic and sassy. It was an unholy hour; everybody has had their fill of food and booze. Christmas spirit was out and about complemented by the cool temperature. Infectious laughter from different tables of the watering hole can be heard. Songs and carols were jingling in the background. In our gathering, gossips and small talks drifted from small groups to whole group to small groups swinging back and forth with occasional slapping, giggling and jeering. At one time, I approached JI and engaged him in a conversation about the Runnex 25^th Executive Classic race held at UP Diliman the week before. JI was my running companion during our glory days. We represented our organization (UPLB mountaineers) in running events more than any other member. He returned to running years earlier than I did and he clocked 49 minutes in the last Runnex. He was complimenting me for a strong finish for a “beginner”. I was still ecstatic with my performance, finishing 63 minutes for the 10K run, despite almost 18 years of absence. I remembered extending my limits in that race giving way to pride and bravery. And the price I paid for that moment of recklessness was lingering sores in both muscles and bones. The whole week after the race, I was practically limping resembling a wounded dog after a brutal fight. It took more than half week before the muscle pain subsided, not yet gone, but much better. The big toe of my left foot was ugly black and throbbing; and both my knees were still hurting already a week since. JI said “the shoe was the culprit!” with full certainty; I ran with my Nike basketball shoes that race. “And lack of training!” I emphasized. We were planning the next event we were to join and he gave advice on the preparation. He also recommended gadgets that he was sure to help my cause. I was resolved to be serious in this sport. I agreed that I needed the proper tools and toys for this aim. But, first and foremost, I needed a new pair shoes…

Manny Pacqioao’s victory over Dela Hoya still hugged the headline while I, apart from the whole citizens of the nation, frantically search for the perfect footwear like a nocked arrow looking for a target. How the industry had evolved! Every manufacturer brandished their own unique technology with myriads of options to choose. The “Air”, the “Gel”, the “Wave”, the “Abzorb”, all of them complicated, all of them beautifully explained, all of them convincing! To the point of being silly, I decided to trust the shoes that have took my fancy way, way back during financially challenged times for the simple reason that I’m amused with their old commercial about its ability to protect an egg from breakage. The last issue was picking the right model and after more deep involvement, the task at hand was reduced to visiting the store and trying out the remaining two contenders. Like an arrow finding its target straight and true, I was content and delighted with the Asics Gel Bandito. When I stepped out the store, my pocket was way far lighter. The shopping bag not only contained the shoes but also a couple of cool dry-fit jerseys and a hot red Speedo shorts.

The account is building and the bill for the pride continued to be paid.

Now, where do I get the Garmin…