I wore cropped pants because I knew they’d need to see my ankles and feet.
Have you ever been fitted for running shoes? This was my second time, and I still can’t get over the oddity of it.
First I sat down, and the Handsome Young Shoeologist sat down next to me. We talked. He asked about my current training routine. And he listened. We talked about the milelage. About how I’m a walker. About the upcoming marathon in June.
I showed him my beat up Asics – the pair I had trained in last year. He held each one in his hand and examined it without (ick, dirty old shoe) apprehension. He noted where the tread was most worn, ” . . . right down the middle, good.” I pointed out how the fabric and padding on the inside back heel of each shoe had completely given way. He remarked that I must have walked over 300 miles to cause that damage. He had never seen that in a pair of shoes. I showed him where I had gotten the blisters and callouses. He really paid attention.
Then he watched me walk barefoot. Back and forth, back and forth, focusing on my feet. After a minute he said, “I’m going to get a pair for you to try.”
I waited on the bench and realized that this was the opposite of buying all other shoes. Normally, the process involves looking at the styles; lifting, holding, feeling the shoes, casually flipping them over to glance at the prices, and then coming up with a compromise between the ones I LOVE and the ones I can afford.
I was pondering this when he brought the first box out and just before he opened the lid, I thought, I wonder what they’ll look like?
I tried on 5 pairs of shoes. HYS watched me walk and run on both the treadmill and outside on the pavement in each pair. We talked all about how the shoes felt on my feet and whether or not they had enough motion control for my gait — or something like that. Eventually we had to dive into the sock rack as well, to find the right sock/shoe combination.
After an hour, I ended up with the lovely specimen you see at the top of this post. I was secretly relieved that the best pair for my feet wasn’t the Brooks with the navy blue trim. Although, the socks he chose for me are a bad color match for this orange.
Part of my brain was thinking: to the finish line! And the other part of me thought: but these socks clash . . ?