Stepping Out of the (Shoe)Box

I just returned from a great run with my dog, Zeebo, while wearing my brand-new and comfy running shoes. It was an unusually brisk morning for San Antonio. The temperature gauge told me 37 degrees as I stepped out the door this morning. It is a rare day in Texas to be able to wear leggings, gloves, a windbreaker and ear muffs; I look forward to such days as a wonderful gift. Most Texas running days are are defined as: humid, really humid and, the ever-lovely, hot and humid. At the end of a typical run there is sweat running off places I don't typically think of as having sweat glands. So this morning's experience was a great change of pace, both in terms of the temperature but also in terms of an opportunity to step out of my usual box.

Last week I purchased a new pair of running shoes. Every 4-6 months I realize I am feeling a bit more pavement than usual on my runs and it is time to shell out a small fortune for a new pair. I have been blessed with not too many running injuries, although I have had my share of shinsplints and stress fractures. A couple of years ago my left leg was encased in a bright blue cast for 10 weeks to immobilize my inflamed Achilles tendon. Because of these experiences I have become extremely loyal to one pair of running shoes--Nike Air Pegasus. I have bestowed upon these shoes magical powers of keeping me injury-free because, as true superstition warrants, since I switched to the Nikes I have not had any serious injuries.

So last week I went to my favorite local running store carrying my worn out and road weary Nikes in hand. Carrol, the owner, fitted me for a new pair of the same model.

Hold on--big change!

Not only were the new Nikes neon green, but the tongue of the shoe had been redesigned. It no longer protruded out of the top of the shoe, but was tucked inside where one typically ties a bow. We discussed the design changes and he suggested I try out a couple of other brands. However, being the loyal (ie, stuck) person I was, I chose to stay with the previously tried and true model. Truth be told, while in the store I could feel the shoes were a bit different on my feet but I dismissed this early-warning signal and purchased them anyway.

The next day I laced up and darted out the door with the dog for the morning routine. I made it about one mile when the top of my left foot began to register a sharp, digging pain. It felt as though the seam from the tongue was folded and putting pressure on the top of my foot. Twenty minutes later, I hobble-trotted back to the house and told myself I just needed to relace them and all would be fine. The next morning I relaced the shoes, and repeated the previous day's experience.

Typically my thoughts on a run range from sorting out my day to free-association to enjoying the scenery in the company of my dog. Running is a great way for me to get out of my head and let my thoughts float above me. However, wearing the new Nikes, my attention was totally focused on what was going on below my knees. I questioned my gait, considered the length of my toenails, the thickness of the socks, and the constriction of the laces. All was under scrutiny as possibly providing an explanation for the pain on the top of my left foot. I tried a thicker pair of socks on the next run--same problem--same foot. There was no pain once I took the shoes off, just some redness and tenderness on the bony part of the top of my left foot. Clearly the shoes were not a fit for me any longer.

I spent the next few days trying to convince myself that if I just ignored the pain, it would go away.

I told myself the shoes just needed breaking in (although I had never had this experience with the brand before).

Following my annoyingly painful run yesterday, I brought the shoes back.

Carrol was not in, but Gabriel was gracious and understanding. He offered to fit me for another pair of the same shoes and suggested I try another brand as another option. I was tempted by the offer to make a switch, but stayed true to my brand (some might suggest "stubborn") for another trial. I slipped on another pair of Air Pegasus and jogged hopefully up the store aisles. There was that pain again--Drat! This forced me to realize that the shoe was just not gonna fit--I needed to try something new!

Gabriel brought out a sampling of brands which I tried on and "test-drove" in the shop. I finally settled on a spiffy pair of Mizuno Wave Riders--white with blue, silver and yellow bands. The fit is perfect--no pain and lots of gain in terms of happy feet and stretching myself to step out of a routine that was no longer serving me well. I also enjoy the name of the new brand "Wave Rider"--it conjures up all kinds of outside-the-box adventures and challenges, doesn't it?

This Nike v. Mizuno experience is an example of the need for all of us to be aware of when it is time to let go of something that is no longer serving it's purpose or is no longer a "good fit" for the situation.

Because of my reluctance to register and acknowledge my physical discomfort with the new design of shoe, I tried to intellectualize my way around the throbbing pain in my foot! How crazy is that? Because the shoe had worked for me in the past, I was determined to make it work for me now, when it just wasn't gonna happen.

* How often do we stay with something that worked for us at one time but because we have grown or changed or may be ready to make a change, the old "shoe" is not appropriate for the new challenge?

* How many times have we "hobbled" ourselves because we were unwilling to step out of the box to try something new?

So now as I write this, my feet are happily resting after a pain-free, invigorating run. Tomorrow my dog, my Wave Riders and I will explore some new terrain and stretch the boundaries a bit more!

Thought for the Day: How many times have you stayed with something long after it has served it's usefulness? What do you continue to be loyal to even if it is causing you pain or discomfort? How can you step out of your box?

It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power.--Alan Cohen