new shoes

So I got new running shoes yesterday.

Or rather, my first pair of real running shoes in many years. Before then, I had cross-trainers which were supposedly designed for everything from aerobics to walking to occasional running. Everything I've read about running (plus advice from Andrea and Dave), however, has convinced me that it's time to invest the money in decent quality running shoes rather than risk the types of injuries incurred by improper footwear.

I went to The Running Room at Wellington and Yonge. I've visited the store several times before, liked the staff, bought my rain jacket and hip pouch (which holds my water bottle, camera, and MP3 player).

The staff person (henceforward to be referred to as TRG = The Running Guy) asked me how long I had been running, what kind of running I was doing. I had to take off my shoes, get up on a bench, stand straight, then crouch down a bit with my knees bent. Then he had me put my cross-trainers back on and run up and down the store so he could check my gait.

Wow, never had to go through so much grilling to get shoes before! Then again, it was clear that these people took running seriously.

TRG told me (in a very nice way, of course) that I had been running in too small a shoe size, that I needed extra support for my flat feet, that I DEFINITELY shouldn't be running in two-year-old cross-trainers, that I was risking injury. He said my old ones are still fine for walking.

That's why I'm here, I told him. Show me what you've got.

So he started bringing out shoes. I told him that I didn't care what the shoes looked like, as long as they fit me. I suppose I would have balked at flaming-red runners with obscenities embroidered along the sides, but fortunately this didn't seem to be an option.

After I put each pair on, TRG had me run up and down the store. At first I felt somewhat awkward about this, but the other staff ignored me; they were obviously used to this process.

TRG would nix some shoes before I had run even a few steps, saying they weren't a proper fit; others would be put in a Potentials pile.

While I tried out shoes, TRG and I did the Asian bonding thing. I've always noticed a tendency of English-speaking Asians, particularly older ones, to want to know what my ancestry is. Funny, really. If a non-Asian asked me the same kinds of questions ("So where are you from?" "Can you speak Chinese?" "Were you born here?"), I'd be somewhat offended at this coming from a total stranger. Coming from another Asian, however, it's fine.

I never ask these questions, but find I get asked a lot. Back in university, when the campus was teeming with students from Hong Kong, I was also told how odd it was that I had a North American accent. I always thought that was kind of funny.

But I digress.





I finally decided on a pair of shoes in the lower end of price ranges offered, but still more expensive than any other shoes that I own. I wore them home and (of course) went out running right away.

One of my favourite books in the whole world is Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. It's the first book that made me conscious of the power of written language. For me, reading Dandelion Wine was like reading a poem, a tapestry of such vivid imagery and emotionally honest moments from childhood that my own writing felt dry and cliched in comparison. Dandelion Wine was a huge motivator in my desire to become a writer.

Anyway, my favourite scene from Dandelion Wine was when the little boy gets a new pair of running shoes. Bradbury does a wonderful job at conveying the child's sheer joy in the new shoes, and I'm reminded of it each time I buy a new pair of runners.

And yes, I felt a little bit of that when I went running for the first time yesterday with my new shoes. :-) This time I ran all the way out to Ontario Place without stopping, just to see if I could.





I was amused by Bill Sutton's posting yesterday in Blatherchat:

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A NUKED Krispy Kreme? Say it isn't so!

You might as well go down to the grocery and buy a cruller and stick it in the microwave, then compare it to a fresh Tim Horton's. Not fair, not fair at all.

Ever had real, boulangerie French bread? One day later - hard as a rock and nasty stuff. On the day of baking - heaven.

We Krispy Kreme defenders demand a recount!

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I do admit that I was somewhat disappointed that my first Krispy Kreme experience had to be with a day-old sample. Scott and Amanda Snyder have promised to take me to a Krispy Kreme outlet in California this August, however, so I do reserve the option to change my humdrum attitude towards Krispy Kremes until I've tried one fresh.

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Today's Blatherpics:

I took these pictures during our Port Elgin visit this past weekend.

	This photo was taken during my morning walk on Sunday.
	Craig demonstrating his unique joy in lawnmowing.
	One of the amazing quilts that Craig's mom has done. First she took a photo of a nearby lighthouse scene, sketched it onto a piece of cloth, added watercolours, quilted it with different colours of thread.
	Other places may have signs advertising student painters and window washers. This is the first "directional drilling" sign I've seen.
	Craig leading us on a nature walk.