Old Shoes, New Shoes, No Shoes

Though I'm as big a sucker as the next runner for paraphenelia, gadgets and awesome running outfits, the one accessory none but the hardiest of Kenyans do without is, of course, a solid pair of shoes. Pictured here are mine. Aren't they pretty? Can you tell which ones have now retired to walking-only status???

Yes, I did that ultimate of geeky runner things: I bought the same model of new shoes to replace my dying old ones. Why? Because they are perfect.

I have, on a scale of such things, a pretty weird pair of feet. They're small but wide, callused and perpetually unpedicured, bent slightly out of shape from too many years of torture by ballet. I love them because they're mine, and I appreciate them for all the millions of steps they've carried me. But finding a pair of shoes to fit these babies is a nightmare.

Much as I love that coveted, just-right pair of shoes, just thinking about the search gives me the chills. I need to try on eighteen pairs before I find ones that are even remotely comfortable, and then wander aimlessly around the store, hopping and jogging, trying to imagine how these will actually feel when I go for a real run in them. Then of course I inevitably end up with two candidates, switching them over and over again, weighing which ones are better. I dread the moment of finality when I have to make the commitment.

Oh, stores will pretty much always accept returns - on new, unworn merchandise. Ha! How, may I ask, am I to judge the worth of a shoe without giving it a beating first? This is why I have perfected the art of the careful, post-purchase jog on an indoor track, no knocking the shoes together, no wearing them on the way to the gym: "yes, yes, Mr. Sales Clerk, I've barely walked around in them at all, I just don't like the look of them after all (and *ahem* they gave me horrendous blisters on that 10k run...)"!

So naturally, when I finally came across a pair that truly felt like a dream, standing the test of time and the merciless pounding of my gait, I thought I had at last solved my problem for good: from now on, whenever my old shoes kick the bucket, I will simply waltz into the nearest store, ask for Nike Air Perseus size 7 please, no muss, no fuss, forever.

Until they stop making that particular type of shoe. Which, of course, to my ultimate dismay, was last year.

Bugger! This last pair I managed to track down, store-hopping for an entire afternoon; they were actually the Running Room's old display model, and slightly discoloured from being out of packaging for so long, but they felt perfect. For the last time. Yes, they are now making a Perseus 2, but it just doesn't mold around my feet the way the old one does.

Why, why so cruel, Nike? You tantalize me with the perfect fit and then change it forever? Unjust, unfair. *sigh....* Isn't that the way things go? At any rate, I plan to get as much distance as possible out of my babies, and after that, it will just have to be back to square one again. When you think about it, how could I really envision the eternal quest for the perfect shoe coming so conveniently to an end? And so, I will shop on.