Even after only a week of non-smoking I can feel myself putting on weight (I suppose the six square meals a day don’t help) so I’m going to need the most supportive shoes possible to get me started. Edinburgh has two specialist running stores that I know about so today I decided to visit both to see which one deserves my custom.
Many years ago during the 1980s there was a famous sketch on ‘Not The Nine O’clock News’ in which Rowan Atkinson goes into an electronics dealer to buy a new stereo but has absolutely no idea what to ask for. He ends up getting the piss ripped out of him by Smith & Jones when he doesn’t know the difference between 3 amps and 100 watts. This is all I can think about as I enter ‘Run 4 It’ on Lothian Road at 10am this morning.
Sales Assistant: “Good morning sir. Lovely day.”
Neil: “Hi there, yes, I’m looking to buy some running shoes because I’m.. ahem.. running the London Marathon next year.”
SA: “No problem sir. Have you ever had your gait assessed before?”
Neil: “Um.. no, I don’t think so, but I did give it a good oiling last winter when it got a bit squeaky.”
SA: “No sir, your running G.A.I.T., we need to see how your foot plants itself on the ground before recommending a shoe. Do you have a tendency to over-pronate at all?”
Neil: “Well I’m keen to see the proper use of semi-colons observed at all times but I wouldn’t say I was excessive.”
SA: “PRONate sir. Assessing how your foot rolls as you run?”
Neil: “Ah yes, very good young lady. Carry on.”
And so she asked me to take off my shoes and socks and walk up and down the store so she could observe all the gaitin’ and pronatin’. Have you ever tried to walk when someone asks you to do precisely that? It’s really hard, thinking consciously about putting one foot in front of the other and resisting the urge to throw in a little catwalk spin when you reach the changing rooms at the far end.
After several minutes of this lung-bursting activity I received the diagnosis that I had a fairly neutral gait and was offered several styles of shoe to try on. It was at this point that the neutrality of my gaitness (is that right?) was attributed to the freakish width of both feet and none of the eight different pairs of shoes I eventually tried on was even close to fitting.
SA: “We could get the extra wide shoes ordered today if you’d like sir?”
NS: “I’ll leave it for the time being thanks,” I replied, spotting the perfect opportunity to get out and go to the other store before I caved and bought whatever they told me to buy.
I’m not naming the other store on Dalry Road, just along from Haymarket beside the golf shop, because they took bloody ages to ask me if I needed help and their literature was a bit snooty and precious about running… “We don’t DO specialist shoes for moonwalks.” Reminds me of a Trevor and Simon sketch from the early 90s.
So I’m going to save myself a bit of money and do any exercise in my old training shoes meantime. I’m sure that will be absolutely no problem whatsoever.
In the middle of November, things got really busy in the office (hence the considerable gap till the next post). I was working long hours and weekends which made it hard to get out running as often but very easy to lapse into delirious, stress-induced, nicotine-deprived daydreaming about Gillian Anderson and how good she would look wrapped in lycra, jogging beside me (or ideally, just in front of me) for all 26.2 miles of the London marathon.
