But more importantly: today, Jennifer got married. And I got running shoes. I told her that while she was committing to her husband, I was committing to shoes. Which is the same, except different.
For one, your shoes need to be supportive. They need to travel with you for a really long time. You should probably love them. And while they keep you from hurting, you do the same for them by not randomly lighting them on fire. Just like marriage!
Except shoes don't really have feelings.
I think.
Let's all take a moment and cheer for Jennifer and her new husband, Brandon, in the comments!
So on my quest for shoes, I drove to Fort Wayne and went to Three Rivers Running Company, in the hope that they would know how to MAKE THE HURTING STOP.
As ordered, I brought along my old shoes. I put them in my bag with some socks. Socks are important. When I went inside, there were all kinds of people of all different ages getting shoes! And they had a treadmill and a camera and this long strip in the middle of the store for you to run on. And I almost got run over! It was very exciting.
When the Running Store Lady, whose name is actually Liz, said hello to me and asked what I was looking for, I opened up my bag and handed her a shoe. And then I said, "Not these. These shoes are the devil. They are instruments of evil."
"Okay," she said.
"I run in them, and I hurt. I stand in them, and I hurt. Then I run in my TOMS, and I have no pain. These shoes are manufactured by Satan."
"YOU RUN IN YOUR TOMS?!"
Liz was clearly horrified.
"Just a little bit," I said. "I mostly wanted to see if the pain was because I am prone to random bouts of agony, or if it was because of those shoes. And it's the shoes."
She nodded. Then she got me a pair of TEST SHOES. These were the brightest pink I have ever seen. You could not look directly at the shoes, because blindness.
I ran on a treadmill. I was terrified. I have never run on a treadmill before. I proved this by running on only the very front of my feet. It was like tip-toeing, only faster. Liz quickly realized that I was not a treadmill sort of girl.
Then she had me run on their indoor sidewalk. And I ran heel to toe, like you are supposed to. Only apparently, I over-pronate. But only with my left foot.
"Did you injure your left foot?" Liz asked.
"No," I said. "I injured my right one."
Explain that, orthopedists.
So she quickly decided I needed the kind of shoe that forcibly prevents you from hurting yourself by any means necessary.
Seriously, are we surprised?
She pulled out a bunch of shoes, and I tried them on, and I ran some more. And some of the shoes felt funky, some of them felt loose, some of them felt like I was running with wooden boards strapped to my feet.
And then we found them.
They are Nikes, which I did not expect to like after the brutal violent murderous experience I had with the Devil Shoes. But they run a bit narrower than the other sorts, and with my freakishly narrow feet, that ended up being a huge plus.
Also, they feel like I am running on marshmallows, not on hard concrete. They are wicked comfy.
So, the shoe for me ended up being "Nike Zoom Structure +15," whatever the heck kind of name for a shoe that is.
And I am very happy.
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