By Matt Kite
Northwest Runner Magazine

I don’t believe the perfect running shoe exists. In fact, as a former shoe junkie who has recently discovered the joy of running barefoot on grass twice a week as part of my regular training diet, I’ll confess that I’m highly suspicious of anything that stands between me and the earth I trod. If we were designed to run in shoes, we wouldn’t be born with bare feet. The best a running shoe can do is stay out of the way.

That said, I recognize the practicality of shoes. Stuff happens, like winter, broken glass, and dog poop. Ideally the temperature would never dip below 60 degrees and all my favorite running routes would be paved in manicured grass. But until I die and go to running heaven, I’ll have to settle for the next best thing, which, in my book at least, comes in red and white, with a fancy gold logo emblazoned on the side.

I’m talking about the Vitruvian Harmony, a little known running shoe engineered and sold by Chuck LaBonte in Hooksett, New Hampshire. LaBonte, a 46-year-old self-taught engineer, left a cushy job with Brooks to start his own running shoe company in the fall of 2003. Fit. Function. End of story. Or so goes the Vitruvian Running mantra. LaBonte’s shoes look like throwbacks to most people, especially those of us who ran in the mid 80s. Not surprisingly, the Harmony, a lightweight neutral trainer that fits my high-arched, narrow foot to a T, is built on a last similar to that of a great-fitting relic from another era, the Nike Air Vortex, one of the first shoes to include a full-length air sole and one LaBonte helped engineer during his long tenure at Nike.

Slip-lasted, comfy, and built with minimalist flair, all three of the Vitruvian models—the Harmony, the Proportion, and the Symmetry—answer a need keenly felt among discerning runners these days, including masters who remember what running shoes used to feel like.

“My intent was to make it simpler,” says LaBonte, who thinks today’s running shoe industry favors form over everything else, a misplaced set of priorities that has sent runners scurrying for specialty insoles, orthotics, and outsole repair. “A whole industry has been built around poorly built shoes,” he says, before asking, “Why do people put up with this?” Consumers, he points out, are guilty of buying into the hype of endlessly updated products, while the media extols the virtues of hyper-engineering, reading straight from the industry hymnal.

Chronically outspoken, LaBonte dubbed himself “The Necessary Evil” while at Nike and Brooks. He rubbed some the wrong way because of his insistence on playing the role of devil’s advocate, not to mention consumer’s advocate. He eventually decided to strike out on his own, but the experiment so far has been challenging, to say the least. The initial investment was costly—and one he’s still paying off. Slow sales have forced him to work another job on the side.

Nevertheless, his shoes have attracted a small but loyal following. I, for one, had nearly given up on running shoes before discovering the Harmony three years ago. With a simple and breathable upper, a moderately cushy EVA midsole, and a hardy outsole that still lets you feel the road, the Harmony runs circles around big name models that cost twice as much. But what really sold me was the shoe’s relatively low profile, especially in the heel, where most of today’s shoes are a monument to excess. Anyone who has run barefoot knows that the heel only barely comes into play (there are no heel strikers in the world of barefoot running). So why the disproportionate amount of heel cushioning in running shoes today? LaBonte chalks it up to tradition. “There are lots of things like that in the shoe industry that go unquestioned because people think, well, we’ve been doing it like this for years. I tried to change some of those things while I was there.”

LaBonte has no radical plans for his company’s future, although width sizing and a low-heeled racing flat beckon. He’d also like to manufacture the shoes in the U.S., preferably in New Hampshire, where he can keep a strict eye on quality control. (Currently the shoes are made in Indonesia.)

Vitruvian shoes are only available online (www.vitruvianrunning.com), where they go for a flat 60 bucks, including tax and shipping. With only three models to choose from (five, if you include the original prototypes, which cost a measly $30), there’s no guarantee you’ll find a perfect fit. But LaBonte will refund your money and pay for the return shipping if you’re not satisfied. Not only can you count on personal customer service, you can rest assured your favorite model will still be there next season. “At the end of the day,” he says, “because I’m egotistical, I want the customer to think Chuck took care of them.”