If The Shoe Fits

In kindergarden I distinctly remember being the tallest kid in the class. Not the tallest girl, the tallest kindergardener, period.  In first grade, I was still the tallest kid, only that year I had traded in my long brown locks for a cute, stylish, and slightly asymmetrical Dorothy Hamill haircut that accentuated my giraffe-like neck.  I affectionately refer to 1985 and 1986 as the "skinny" years; too bad I didn't know enough to appreciate my height and long, skinny limbs back then. 

With the height came a rather pesky annoyance: BIG FEET!  As long as I can remember, shoes have been an issue.  I settled into my current size, an 11, sometime in middle school and I've been stuck there ever since. Buying shoes is a chore and I might as well forget about getting said shoes at TJ Maxx. Just for the record, the 10 and up shelf is a big fat liar, there is NEVER anything above a size 10 on that shelf!  I vaguely remember in the late 90's finding a pair of size 13 pink Birkenstocks on that rack.  I often wonder who ended up buying those shoes.

As you can probably guess, it's been a struggle over the years to find shoes for various occasions that require something other than a flip-flop or a slip-on Converse, like the prom or a wedding. So I can't say I was entirely shocked to find out that shopping for a "marathon" shoe would be any different.  I tried to nip this in the bud a few weeks ago before we moved into our new house, one more thing I could cross off my never ending to-do-list.  I went to a shoe store that specifically caters to runners/race people, and felt like a fraud upon entering the shop as I feel that I'm neither.  The shoe guy asked how he could help me, and I explained that I was training to do a half marathon in a few months.  I almost expected him to role his eyes and snicker, while quietly judging my lack of muscle tone and overall unathletic appearance, but to my surprise he was extremely helpful and attentive.  He never acted as if he expected this overweight young woman before him to be doing anything but training for a race.  He was slightly stout and a seasoned marathoner himself, sharing his race experiences with me in between trips to the stock room. The shoeboxes began to pile up, one pair after another. At one time I believe I counted 15 boxes stacked and spread out before me.  I would put on a pair, lace them up, walk across the room,  and then hop on the in-store treadmill so the "expert" could check out my stride; 45 minutes later and we weren't any closer to finding that perfect shoe. The shoe guy was helpful and knowledgeable, but in the end he was no match for my big feet. He finally gave up and suggested that maybe I'd have better luck at another store (suggesting a few of his competitors), adding that sometimes it takes awhile to find just the right shoe.  

The shoe search may not have gone exactly how I planned but that didn't stop me from going to my team practice last Sunday.  It was my first practice, as the weekend before Sean and I had the big move scheduled, so I had to play hooky during the first official practice.  I arrived in Santa Monica bright and early at 8:00 AM.  I think the fear of getting up so early on a weekend actually trumped my fear of being the most out of shape person at the practice, but there I stood bleary eyed and feeling inadequate, ready for the four miles that lay ahead of me.  It was just as I imagined, 99.9% of the people seemed to be in pretty decent shape, their feet adorned with the same shoes that weeks earlier piled around my feet, the shoes that legitimate racers wear.  I was a fraud, my New Balance shoes and jiggly thighs would surely give me away and they'd send me packing; but it simply didn't happen that way.  I was in the slowest pace group, our path lead us along the ocean and it was gorgeous outside.  I felt like the lone tortoise among the hares and true to my tortoise form, I too, slowly but surely, finished the four miles.  

I still need to find that special pair of size 11 racing shoes. And I will, because every good racer, like myself, needs a perfect pair of racing shoes.