If The Shoe Fits

A couple weeks ago I wrote about hats, and this week I am cutting out the middleman and going right to shoes. Shoe sizes, among other things, aren’t as standard and predictable as I would like them to be. For instance, I have shoes that range in size from 9 ½ to 10 ½ and now 11. I have never been an 11. Of course, I have never been two hundred pounds or almost fifty-seven either.

It’s a game of numbers; the weights and measures that define my existence are gaining on me. Even though I dare not look back, I can feel the cold breath of infirmity and hear the footsteps of obesity right behind me.

I am toying with different methods of exercise in an attempt to arrest those numbers that I can control. Some people walk their dog, but I don’t have a dog. I used to play squash.  Then my squash partner got hurt and he and I began to vegetate instead. An exercise machine loses its appeal when the weather turns nice, and pedaling a bike can be dangerous (hence the need for a helmet).  

Last week I ran into a new store that I had heard about.  I wasn’t going to buy anything – I was just curious about the store and their method of finding and fitting the right shoe (as well as the left). River Valley Running, as the name implies, specializes in running shoes. Of course, you wouldn’t have to run in them, you could walk or just lounge in the shoes if you chose.

Lest you think that shoes designed just for running is too narrow of a fit for general-purpose living, please consider that Nancy Sinatra sang about boots that were made for walking. In addition, there are waders when people want to get right in there with the fish, dancing shoes (with or without the noisy metal taps), bowling, and golf shoes. There are hiking shoes, muck boots, steel-toed work boots and loafers (when you don’t feel like doing anything). There is even a tale of an indecisive elderly woman who took up residence in a shoe with her many children.

As I mentioned, I had no intention of buying running shoes, as I had not included running in my exercise options. I have never been interested in long-distance running; it was fine for other people, just not for me. Short sprints were my specialty – quick and to the point. Yet, I admire people who can run great distances and not tire, like those guys in the movie, “Last of The Mohicans.” They were in great shape.

When I was younger I could run like a horse, was often so hungry that I could eat one, and yet my girth never increased. Alas, those days are gone – I have to watch what I eat, the only running I do is to appointments, and I have had to re-cinch my belt.

I went to the running store, perhaps unconsciously hoping to outrun time and regain my youthful step. I was greeted by Sara, the attentive sales clerk, who seemed puzzled when I explained that I had no intention of becoming a runner, but rather was curious about the store.

In no time at all I was having my feet measured, my gait analyzed by video taping me running on a treadmill, and the inkblot impressions of my feet evaluated. Rorschach would have been amused with the images produced by my fallen arches.

In the end, I selected a comfortable red pair in a size 11. Now the trick will be to lace them up and start running to cut down my middle.