When you're in Thassos, there's no question about bringing your running shoes — of course you do, and you pretty much live in them. And if your shoes happen to be the new Hoka Clifton 10, then it would be a shame not to put them to the test.

I was lucky (or maybe just inspired): I landed in one of those weeks where you get everything — sunrises, sunsets, climbs, descents, wet and dry sand, rocky trails, scorching asphalt and… one run straight through the sea.

Yes, the actual sea. 🤭 No metaphors here.

🔵 What’s New with the Hoka Clifton 10 – and What You Actually Feel

1. Higher Drop: 8 mm

Compared to the 5 mm in the Clifton 9, it feels like a gentle push forward — especially when you're picking up speed downhill. Nothing aggressive, more like a whisper: “come on, just a bit more.”

You don’t miss the carbon plate, but there's a kind of “trained rebound” — a restrained, elastic response that adapts to your stride without launching you like a wild horse.

2. Taller, Softer Sole

With a 42 mm stack height at the heel and 34 mm in the forefoot, cushioning is there — neatly wrapped. You don’t sink in, but you don’t get slammed either.

It feels like an everyday shoe that’s always ready to break into a run. Or, as I’d put it: a comfy little pillow that could even help you hop a fence if it came to that. 😁

3. New Upper (Jacquard Knit Material)

Flexible, breathable, and what I loved most: it didn’t overheat, even under the full blast of the Greek sun.

Foot lockdown is solid, especially with the new double-lacing system — the tongue didn’t budge, not even on steep descents. Your foot stays in place, no matter how you move.

4. Stability: Active Foot Frame™ + MetaRocker™

It’s not a “corrective” shoe, but it does offer a natural kind of stability.

Put simply: when you're running over wet rocks, you're not worried about slipping — you're wondering why you're not slipping. Especially if you’re running in Thassos and cornering like a local goat.

The MetaRocker (that gentle curve in the sole) gives you a smooth transition from heel to toe — noticeably more fluid than earlier models.

🔵 Tested on 10 Surfaces – A Freestyle Run Around the Island

My first serious run in the Clifton 10s was early in the morning, in my favorite area of Thassos — Skala Rachoniou. I started from where we were staying, a little fairytale house tucked among olive trees, and stepped out onto grass — just like in those commercials where zen people run barefoot. 🤣

Only I wasn’t barefoot. I was wearing my brand-new Cliftons — and I was glad I was.

After the grass came a dirt road, then pavement. First impressions? The shoe holds the foot well, offers a solid feeling of stability, and the transition from walking to running is so smooth you almost forget you’re in new shoes. It’s not as aggressive as a carbon-plated shoe, but it has that something — a subtle, natural momentum that seems to say: “you got this.”

I kept running through the olive groves in Skala Rachoniou, toward my happy place: Blue Lake. A stretch of water that sometimes looks like a sea, sometimes a lake — depending on the wind and how calm the surface is.

I ran all the way to the edge of the wooden dock, soaked in the sun, and then hit the sand — first wet, then dry — like a carefree kid. These weren’t places from my childhood, but somehow, they felt like home.

I followed the path through more olive trees to Gorgona — a taverna run by a father and son. The son is the kind of guy who ends every sentence with “my friend.” It was closed, but I ran through as if flipping through a journal page — remembering those deep-fried zucchini blossoms and the way I licked my lips after every bite. And I found myself thinking: how many Clifton models have I run this path with? Is this the third? The fourth?

From there, I continued along the shoreline — sand, strips of grass, gravel — all the way to the port. Cracked concrete, weathered by salt and seasons. I ran past the boats, already drifting into new stories in my head, not slowing down at all.

Then I saw an old lady stepping out from a trail by the sea — and curiosity pulled me in. It turned out to be about a kilometer of dirt path, covered in pine needles, with a little wooden bridge in the middle.

In the forest, the shoe performed flawlessly. The sole handled every kind of grip, and the shoe was so unnoticeable I didn’t even think about it — which is a huge compliment.

The trail spat me out into someone’s backyard, straight onto a steep, concrete road. That’s where I really tested stability and uphill responsiveness — and yes, it held up.

Even when I “coughed up a bit of lung” upping the cadence (or cancendia, as Flabio, my Cuban coach would say 😋), the shoe never held me back. If anything, it set the pace.

Downhill toward Pachis, I let my legs fly. Speed, corners, blooming poppies, a few fast photos — and then… straight into a trail descent, weaving through pine trees, past the Pefkospilia Taverna — where, in my head, I was already dreaming of shrimp pasta and moussaka.

Normally I would’ve stopped there. But this time, I remembered a spot I’d only seen while swimming — a path through the rocks, visible only from the water, that looked nearly impossible on foot. But now, in explorer mode and with Cliftons on my feet, I said: let’s see what happens.

And what do you know — it worked. Hop-and-go over rocks, steep angles that demanded attention. Terrain made for local goats, not road shoes. And yet... the Clifton 10 held firm. The sole — though designed for road — gripped the rock like it had trained with ninja goats on the cliffs of Thassos.

Traction was spot-on, even on 45-degree slopes, where the stone had been worn raw by salt, wind, and time.

I felt like a local goat — happy and sure-footed. No wonder the Greeks say their goats are born with climbing diplomas.

I crossed the hill, then back up and down on asphalt. The uphill surprised me again — that subtle bounce. This isn’t a shoe that explodes under your foot, but it has life. Just enough to carry you through a daily run, on any kind of terrain.

🌊 The Water Run – Because Why Not?

Between Gorgona and Blue Lake, there’s a spot I know where the sea sometimes pulls back enough to leave just a shallow layer of water, with smooth rocks or gravel underneath — not those sharp, ankle-biting ones.

I blasted through the port like a rocket, then hit the wet sand along the shore, breezing past Gorgona. I ran through places still quiet now, but in a month, they’ll be swarming with tourists.

I stuck to the edge — sand and gravel — until I reached Arriba Beach. And there it was: shallow, flat-ish water. Just what I was looking for. So I went for it. Straight in, like a reckless kid in Sunday shoes, right into the sea. 😂 What can I say... the drone caught everything. You’d never guess I’m older than seven.

But honestly? It was a real test. Someone even commented, “that water run was clearly staged for marketing.” But the truth is, I test shoes the way I actually use them. This wasn’t even the first time I’ve run in soaked shoes.

At Ultrabalaton last year, I got caught in a torrential downpour that lasted over an hour, then ran two more hours through fresh puddles like they were part of the course. I didn’t dodge them. I didn’t leap over like some spooked deer — I went right through them. Like... a puddle was just a puddle.

So yeah, it looked like a game — but I genuinely wanted to see how the shoe handled being completely drenched. Rain is one thing. Saltwater is a whole different story. 😁

The verdict? Surprisingly solid. Worn with Compressport v4.0 Ultralight Run Low socks (yes, the black ones Oana said made me look like a total... escort 🤣), the shoes drained quickly. First the water ran out, then the materials aired out on their own.

Two kilometers later, with sun and wind, I’d already forgotten I ran into the sea with them.

🦃 The 25,000 km Mark – And a Turkey Showdown

When you realize you've run 25,000 kilometers over the past ten years, you’ve got two options: Either take a picture with a balloon and post it on Instagram, or go for a quiet run – the kind that includes all the things you love: mountains, forest, climbs, and a bit of absurdity. I chose the second. And some turkeys. 😂

I left around sunset on one of my classic routes: toward Rachoni, a charming little hilltop village where the locals used to spend the winter – tucked away from the sea – and then move back down to Skala Rachoni for the summer season and fishing life.

The sunset was one of those that makes you stop for no reason – bright red sky streaked with clouds, like the universe was hinting: this run’s gonna mean something.

The route? A slice of Greek life. Flat asphalt to start, then a long 5 km climb — the kind that shows its teeth near the end — followed by a winding downhill that feels like a rural rollercoaster.

At kilometer five, right at the top, I met those turkeys again. The same ones I had a shouting match with the day before on a bike ride. I greeted them with a loud, warrior-style “gobble-gobble!”, and they answered louder than expected.

It turned into one of those bizarre back-and-forths that can only happen between a euphoric runner and a bunch of semi-feral birds.

And then – right in the middle of the ruckus – my watch buzzed: 25,000 kilometers. I hadn’t planned it. But the timing was perfect. Hill. Sunset. Turkeys. Heavy breathing. And a strange inner calm despite the outer chaos. I smiled. I couldn’t not.

It felt symbolic. Nothing flashy around me — just me, a few offended turkeys, and a Greek hill. But on my feet? A pair of shoes that had handled everything I’d thrown at them: rocks, sand, concrete, coastal trails, uphills, downhills, and now... a milestone.

That’s what I love about the Clifton 10: it doesn’t make you choose between comfort and performance. It’s not ultra-tech. But it has exactly what you need.

I felt it on that long climb — the sole stayed grounded, even when my rhythm slowed to a dying-deer tempo. On the downhill, it showed its playful side: well-balanced, not marshmallowy soft, but not stiff either. It holds you when needed — but lets you go when you’re ready.

And by the time I got back to Skala Rachoniou, I knew: this run couldn’t have happened in any other shoes. Not because they were new — but because they just fit the moment. They didn’t interrupt it. They became part of it.

🚀 The Rockets: A Triathlon, Two Cliftons, and Last Place – With Glory

That Saturday in Thassos wasn’t about distance or pace. It was about the team. About Carmen doing her very first triathlon. About sharing it together. Just the two of us – and a pair of Clifton 10s that had already been through plenty of stories. She, ironically, was wearing the Clifton 9s. It was starting to feel like the Clifton Games.

We signed up for the sprint relay: 800 meters of swimming (done by me), 20 kilometers of biking (Carmen climbed toward Giola – 10 km up, then back down), and 5 kilometers of running (which we did side by side).

Our team name? Simple and efficient: The Rockets. Though, honestly, we were more like hot air balloons than rockets. We came in last. But we crossed the finish line grinning from ear to ear, with people clapping from the sidelines. 😍 And technically... we placed first in the relay. Because we were the only team. Minor detail. 🤣

The run was a loop that combined asphalt and sand. Not the fastest surface, but perfect for a Sunday-vibe shoe test on mixed terrain. Not that it was Sunday – it just felt that way. 🤪

And once again, the shoes did what they do best: they stayed out of the way. On asphalt, they were smooth and soft, without taking control.

On sand? Well... no shoe works miracles on sand, but they kept a nice balance between stability and freedom of movement.

What I really liked: there was no “heavy-foot” feeling – the one you sometimes get from over-cushioned shoes on unstable terrain.

And most importantly: not a single grain of sand got inside.

Carmen was running next to me, smiling, getting cheered on. I looked over at her and felt this deep joy that we were doing it – together. Not in a real race. But with all our heart, fully present.

She wore the 9s. I had the 10s. A little Hoka family moment. Two generations, running toward the same finish line, step by step, in sync – and most importantly: with joy.

And yes – maybe I’m talking more about feelings than shoes. But maybe that’s the ultimate test for a good running shoe: That it lets you live the moment, without pulling focus.

🟦 Final Thoughts

The Clifton 10 isn’t the kind of shoe that’ll blow you away at first try.

It doesn’t have a carbon plate, it doesn’t promise world records, and it doesn’t scream for attention through some over-the-top ad campaign. 

But you know what it does have? Balance. Character. It’s the kind of shoe you can wear for a marathon – or just for a stroll on the boardwalk. Take it to a triathlon, or to the grocery store. And the best part: you can wear it without even noticing it – until the moment it really matters.

It’s an “all-around” kind of shoe – but not in the sad “master of none” way. Not like those all-season tires. 😂 It’s more like a good friend: the kind who’s there when things get hard, but doesn’t steal the spotlight when everything’s going great.

It’s versatile. Soft when you need comfort, surprisingly playful when you want to pick up the pace. It’s clear: this is more than just a version-10 update.

I’ve worn it on rocks, on sand, through water, on trails, and under the blazing asphalt. I’ve run with it in moments that mattered –

and maybe that’s exactly why it already feels like part of my story.

It’s not just a new shoe I’m testing – it’s the natural continuation of a journey that started long ago with the Clifton 4,

and clearly... it’s not done yet.

Good for intervals, good for tempo, good for race day… and even sarmale (yes, the stuffed cabbage kind). 🤪

Of course, I’m talking from an amateur runner’s perspective. But for people like us – the ones who chase thoughts just as much as seconds – this might just be exactly what we need. 💙