Last month I finally went out and spent over $100 on a really good pair of sneakers. I’ve purchased high quality shoes before, but never of the tennis shoe variety. Three of the six pairs of shoes in my closet had triple digit price tags, but I figured they were worth it. After all, they were completely repairable and would last forever. Sneakers, on the other hand, I had always viewed as disposable.
Now that I see how wrong I was, I feel genuine remorse. Shame on me for relegating the good old tennis shoe to the bottom of the footwear heap. After all, the everyday sneaker is what I wear more than anything else. It’s my go-to shoe, my go-everywhere shoe, and my goes-with-anything shoe. Since it supplies most of my transportation needs, it seems odd that I had never considered investing in the high-end variety. Never, that is, until my physical therapist pressured me into it.
She gave me some mumbo-jumbo story about how they would provide the best foundation. Something about correcting the improper body alignment that was causing the problem I had gone to see her about. Another something about how nothing else would make any difference if I didn’t first start with the proper foundation. The trouble was, her list of approved models were all flamboyantly-colored running shoes that were totally not my thing. And I mean totally!
Feeling completely adrift at the prospect of having a non-black shoe in my closet of ebony, I decided to use my connections in the footwear industry. On a day I knew my favorite salesperson would be there, I showed up at the only high-end shoe store in the mall. After finding my daughter at work behind the counter, I explained my predicament.
I stubbornly refused to try on anything that looked like it had been involved in a paintball fight. As a result, it took her consulting with her team of experts, and me consulting with my physical therapist, before I agreed at last to slip my feet into a pair of not-too-wildly-colored Brooks Addiction 12 runners. Then, after taking only a few steps, it happened.
All the affection and loyalty I had felt toward my old sneakers disintegrated. In its place was the new sensation. I felt my entire body becoming aware that it now rested on an amazingly light, yet solid, foundation. In my enjoyment of the supreme comfort and feel of the shoe, I was surprised to discover that the neon pink accents didn’t seem quite as offensive as they had only moments ago. I was also surprised to find myself walking up to the counter, forking over the cash, hugging my daughter, and wearing them home.
You won’t actually see me running in them, but I am definitely going to hoof it back to the mall when the new line of colors comes out in the fall. With my friends and family discount, I’ll be able to afford a second pair. And guess what? I heard they’ll be offering them in something pretty darn close to my signature black! To all high-end sneakers everywhere, I now salute you!