running

A couple of months ago I looked down and realized I was still working out in the shoes that I had bought to train for and then run the NYC marathon in 2011. I don’t think I would have stopped to notice had part of the sole not been completely worn away to the point that I had no protection underneath my right foot. Unlike my trainer and many of the other people I know at my gym, I don’t own a vast collection of tennis shoes. I’m a lot like my dad in the sense that I’ll buy one pair and then wear them down until someone has stopped to hand me change because they think I’m homeless.

So I did what I hate to do and I went to an athletic shoe store. Why that specific type of store gives me hives, I don’t know. I could browse hundreds of different types of boots all day, but tennis shoes? They are all so weird. And have you noticed the trend lately where every square inch of the shoe has to be made from a different color of blinding neon fabric? I now have to wear sunglasses while performing dead lifts.

I very quickly honed in on this pair of Nike running shoes, and made my way out of there as quickly as possible. Yes, there are some bright colors there, but I look at is as a positive because Marlo comments on them every time I put them on.

“YOU HAVE PINK ON YOUR STHOESTH!” This is usually accompanied by a celebratory clap of her hands. If I knew it would make her this happy all the time I’d tattoo both of my arms completely pink.

Why, yes. I do have pink on my shoes. I now also have protection underneath my right foot and “zonal sandwich mesh with a dynamic mid foot system” that provides superior support. In other words, I’m fancy.