My high school cross country coach used to tell the story of a girl he coached who lost a shoe in a mud puddle at the state cross country meet, and still finished ninth.

The latest shoeless wonder is Briton Zola Budd, who sprints along, setting records wearing nothing but her bare peds.

In July, I ran the San Francisco Marathon; after the race, the talk centered on the women's division winner. "Did you see those yellow slippers she was wearing?" someone asked.

So a few weeks ago, while training for this month's New York Marathon, I took a break and went to a running shoe store to check out a pair of the new yellow Sock Racer.

"There are only about 12 pair in the city," the salesman told me. "They're highly experimental," he added, as if the Army was considering equipping its men with yellow running shoes.

"How long will they last?" I asked him.

"Maybe ten races," he said.

Impressed by the salesman's presentation, I bought a pair.

I went home that night and showed my dad my purchase. "Look, Dad. It's just like wearing slippers!"

It was then that I realized that from the waffle sole to the air sole to the slipper sole, Paul Simon's words still hold true: running is still crazy after all these years.