It’s my wee sister Rona’s 40th birthday today and she’s in Scotland for a few days so we arrange to meet at ‘Run 4 It’ on Lothian Road so we can spend three quality hours debating lycra v supercotton and compression vest v base layer. Actually, that’s not quite true; in reality, we arrange to meet at Starbucks for large coffees and sticky buns and ‘Run 4 It’ just happens to be across the road.
But this is fortuitous because I’ve finally decided to abandon my initial, run-in-any-old-shitty-trainers-and-hope-for-the-best strategy and get something more appropriate instead. Unlike last time, I am well armed with all the right information when a different sales assistant approaches…
Sales Assistant: “Good morning sir. Lovely day.”
Neil: “It certainly is young man, aren’t you a strapping lad. Now see here… I’m running the London Marathon next year and require a new pair of running shoes with a neutrallie gaitness and a 2E width for my freakishly-wide feet. Can you show me please what you have in a size 8?”
I think the young oik must have had a wee touch of the cold because he made a sort of stifled snorting sound before disappearing through to the back of the shop. Alas, like last time, none of the shoes in stock were of the required width so he agreed to order them, promising a pre-Christmas delivery. For now then, I shall revert to my initial shitty-old-trainers strategy which I’m still convinced will be absolutely no problem whatsoever.
But this is fortuitous because I’ve finally decided to abandon my initial, run-in-any-old-shitty-trainers-and-hope-for-the-best strategy and get something more appropriate instead. Unlike last time, I am well armed with all the right information when a different sales assistant approaches…
Sales Assistant: “Good morning sir. Lovely day.”
Neil: “It certainly is young man, aren’t you a strapping lad. Now see here… I’m running the London Marathon next year and require a new pair of running shoes with a neutrallie gaitness and a 2E width for my freakishly-wide feet. Can you show me please what you have in a size 8?”
I think the young oik must have had a wee touch of the cold because he made a sort of stifled snorting sound before disappearing through to the back of the shop. Alas, like last time, none of the shoes in stock were of the required width so he agreed to order them, promising a pre-Christmas delivery. For now then, I shall revert to my initial shitty-old-trainers strategy which I’m still convinced will be absolutely no problem whatsoever.
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