It starts with ugly shoes

I turned 35 this past Sunday.

As I grow older, I care less and less what people think of me. Apparently, that mentality hasn’t completely replaced my insecurities around being the only fat person in a room full of fit people.

My decision to start running came on my birthday. I had just finished Girl, Wash Your Face, and I was pumped to do something and stick to it. As I began my mental checklist on how to get started with running, a sense of dread came over me…

“I’m going to have to get fitted for good running shoes.”

Now, this dread is 2-pronged:

1. I have never spent more than $30 on a pair of shoes.
2. Being in an athletic shoe store full of athletic people feels like those dreams you have before your first day of school, where you somehow make it all the way there without realizing you are naked.

 

Into the store, I went…

I walked in timid, like someone was bound to yell out…

“We got a fatty!”

I walked around pretending to know what I was looking at, trying to take up as little space as possible.

A man with a large smile approached me and asked if I needed any help. Once I explained I was in for a shoe fitting for my first real pair of running shoes, he jumped at the chance to help me with the kind of positivity I often envy. Any self-deprecating remarks I made, he shirked off and said some silver-lining type comment to reassure me that I was in the right place.

He brought me over to a large white platform and asked me to step on. I mounted it hesitantly, half expecting it to shout out a number that I never want to hear. After the chorus to whatever Justin Timberlake song was playing, I was told I could step off. That was it!

We sat back down and a pair of chubby dismembered feet appeared on the iPad in front of me.

“These are your feet!” said the smiley associate.

“Ummm, yay,” I said, much less enthusiastically.

After reviewing the various dips and curves of the lonely feet on the screen, the man scampered to the back. I sat there, still trying to take up less space than I actually do, while nervously checking the time on my phone.

 

Less than exciting options

My foot whisperer came back, with a cartoonish stack of shoe boxes piling higher than his head.

He opened up the first box, and my heart sank.

“Are those…MOON SHOES?”

It was a purple pair of wide Hoka Bondi 6’s, with a sole that, at the time, seemed to be 8″ tall.

The descriptive terms “wide,” “marshmallow,” and “purple” combine to make these shoes look like kids gravity defying boots from the 90’s.

I started to put them on, face scrunched like they already smelled like feet. I snugged them up, tied the laces, stood up, and walked across the floor.

“Marshmallows!”

They felt like pillows while simultaneously pushing me forward into the perfect running position.

 

Form follows function

I tried on 3 or 4 more attractive pairs in various brands, but none of them compared to the luxurious cushion of the Hoka’s.

I decided there was only one option, so we began to search for the correct insoles based on the measurements of the dismembered feet

This part went much quicker, and we were on our way to the register in no time.

I picked up a fancy pair of running socks on my way to pay (which I ended up getting free for my bday) and headed home.

Tomorrow morning, I will put on my moon shoes and hit the pavement for the first time.

Let the journey begin!

 

Feature Illustration by jessicaweaverart