I wanted to add “Shoes” to the title, but it didn’t have the same S sound as the others. And I am disappointed that Cinema doesn’t start with S so that the title would not be just auditorially alliterative, but visually as well. But I’m not disappointed enough to misspell the word. We’ll just have to be happy that our ears are happy.
It was time for new running shoes. The last time I purchased new running shoes was well over 250 miles ago. And they say that your shoes last somewhere between 200 and 300 miles. I was having some foot and leg pain, so I figured it might be the shoes. As a bonus, my semi-local running store (only semi-local because I still have to drive 45 minutes to get there) sends out $10 off coupons during my birth month every year. I had to hurry up and use the coupon before the last day of the month (today), so my husband and I drove down there Friday evening after work and a yummy dinner of spaghetti and fried green tomatoes.
I’ve been saving up my money, and we budgeted in a little more this past pay period so that I could make sure I had enough for the shoes. I also called the store on Tuesday to make sure they had the brand and style I wanted in my size, and they held them for me. (I wear the Brooks Adrenaline. I’ve worn them since version 7, went through two pairs of version 8, and am now on version 9. I think they’re about to stop making them, though, and that makes me sad.) So I went in and let the salesman know that they were holding a pair of shoes in my name. He went to fetch them. (Good salesman.) He got them out of the box for me, and I was surprised to see that instead of white with blue trim (as they had been in the last two versions), they were white with red trim. Ooooo, exciting! Plus I won’t get my new shoes mixed up with my old shoes. I mentioned the new color to the salesman, and joked that they are changing things up on me with the new shoes. ” ‘Cause these are the nines, right?” He looked at the box. “No, they’re seven and a half.” Um… “No, I mean this is version nine. The eights were blue.” Sigh. “Oh, right,” he replied. I think he must be new. My prior experience with this store is that any other clerks would have known what I was talking about.
Anyway, I reached over and started to take the sock liner out of the shoe. “Oh, do you have…” he started to ask, but apparently couldn’t think of the word. “Yes, I have orthotics,” I replied. He looked like he was going to take the sock liner out of the other shoe for me, so I went to the bench to sit down. He noticed my tee-shirt, which is the uniform for my husband’s ice sculpting business. “Ice sculptures?” the salesman asked. “Yeah,” I replied. “My husband’s an ice sculptor.” Suddenly, he seemed to forget me and my new red shoes. I put on the right shoe and realized that the left shoe was about three feet away from me on the floor because the salesman decided that talking about ice sculptures with my husband was more interesting than assisting me with my shoes. I find this happens often to me — I suddenly am completely uninteresting when people find out what my husband does for a living.
Eventually, the salesman did come over to check on me. I was having a hard time getting the orthotics into the shoes, but that’s nothing new. Happens every day. There was another woman on the bench with me, and he asked how she was doing. She was frustrated because the shoes she’d worn forever aren’t in production anymore, so she has to find a new brand and/or style. (Ugh, I’m going to be this lady in probably another 300 miles.) Instead of helping her to find a new shoe, he just told her something like, “Yeah, that’s hard.”
Finally, with my orthotics comfortably in the shoes, I went to the treadmill to try them out and make sure they fit okay. I ran just a little, decided I would continue with the purchase, and returned to the bench to put on my old shoes to find that now the salesman was chatting with my husband about pheasant hunting in South Dakota. It wasn’t until my new shoes were back in the box and I stood up and walked to the counter that he paid attention to me again.
After the purchase was complete, I walked out to the car with Chef who said, “He’s interested in an ice luge.” “Oh yeah?” I replied. “Yeah,” he said, “and he’s a hunter, too.” Huh. “Yes,” I said, “he was much more interested in talking to you than helping me with my shoes.” Bleh. If I hadn’t had lots of good experiences at this store, this trip might have made me decide not to go back there.
I got up early Saturday morning. Chef had made plans to take our friend Gina’s 11-year-old son fishing, so he left before it was very light out, and I couldn’t really get back to sleep afterward. But I had planned to go to a movie with a friend on Saturday, and I needed to get nine miles in before that, so an early start was important. I didn’t wear my new shoes because I thought that nine miles might be a bit much for new shoes, and determined to save them for a shorter run in a couple of days. After my run, I was thinking that I’ve really come a long way. I remember feeling after a nine-miler that I might die, or at least crumple in a heap and never get up again. But Saturday, I felt just fine. Great, even. Amazing.
So I came home, ate a two-egg cheesy burrito, did some laundry, and drove over to my friend’s house. We went to Cinema 12 to see Julie & Julia. (I’ve been saving up for this, too. This budgeting thing is wonderful because I know I have money to do things!) It was a good movie — I laughed more than I expected to — and I left hungry for Boef Borguignon and realizing that my blogging skills are not up to snuff. I’ll never get a book deal this way. Not that I started this blog looking for a book deal, but hey, I’m sure not going to pass it up if one would come my way. I just am not sure that I have time to dedicate to a blog like the one in the movie. Well, she didn’t either, I guess, but I prefer not to put my marriage on the line for blogging. But, boy, it made me want to come up with better ideas than the ones I’ve had.
After the movie, I dropped my friend off at her house, went home to eat a late lunch and fold the laundry. Chef called and said that he was going to Gina’s house to clean the fish and eat them. I got some more fish from the freezer (we had caught sixteen fish on my birthday, but they nabbed only two on Saturday) and went over there to hang out with Gina until the boys arrived. We chatted while she worked on pottery (her newest obsession, fueled by my father-in-law). She took me upstairs to show me the room she was going to convert into her pottery room. We examined it, and she told me what she was going to have done, and we started back downstairs when suddenly my ankle gave way underneath me. Oh. My. Gosh. I go up and down stairs all the time. WHY am I suddenly twisting my ankle? I have races coming up! I cannot be injured!
Gina apologized all over herself because she forgot to warn me that her steps are really uneven. (Looking at them later, I could actually see that some steps were shorter than others. And Chef mentioned that steps need to be only 1/8 of an inch off to make people trip.) I elevated the ankle, put a cold pack on it, and prayed it would heal quickly. Today, I can still feel that it’s not 100 percent, but I think I’ll be able to run on it tomorrow. I hope.
A meal of fish and rice and a chat with Gina and her son made a good end to the day.
Now to get that ankle healed, continue my running, and figure out interesting things to blog about.