Things are really getting serious over here. Today Adam and I started on the second week of preliminary training, and I told my brother about our marathon plan. (He was incredibly supportive and is excited for us.) The rest of this weekend's marathon prep was all about the feat...uh, I mean feet.
First I started with new socks. Just one pair, I'm not getting too carried away, yet. The new running sock is on the left; the cheapo, couple-bucks-for-a-twelve-pack sock I usually wear is on the right. See the little "L" on the new one? It stands for "left." That's correct, the socks are marked for each foot, and let me tell you, these are the most comfortable pair of socks I've ever worn. In fact, I don't want to take them off. They feel better than the first pair of fuzzy socks in the fall. They are stability socks with arch support and slightly extra cushion in the heels and toe. The shop guy suggested a more cushioned pair for later on, and I can't imagine how those would feel.
Let me tell you about my past with socks. I thought a sock was a sock, cotton tube with a little blue "Hanes" on the toe, and nothing else. My feet fit the boys' socks sold in the multipacks at Wal-Mart, so I've bought those socks because they are cheaper than anything else I've found. They'd bunch in my sneaker occasionally, and I'd have to stop during walks to adjust them, but I never thought anything of it. A sock is just a sock, right? Apparently not.
My sock discovery doesn't compare to my shoe revelation. After reading through chapter one's discussion of the importance of properly fitted running shoes, I wondered even more about my training shoes, ones I bought years ago at a sporting goods shop and have worn to the gym and on walks for a while. Adam and I visited Road Runner Running Store in Carytown for a personal evaluation and suggestions for a proper fit.
I bit my lip and reviewed shoe terms on the drive over to prepare for my first foray into the running world. I didn't look the part, I didn't know all the jargon, and I hadn't even been briefed on the handshake. Would the staff take me seriously or, worse, would they suggest that running a marathon wasn't for me?
Road Runner staffer Chris greeted us when we walked in and listened as Adam and I told him that we're training for our first marathon and about our previous limited experience. You know what he did? He welcomed us to running. He actually said, "Welcome to the club." I heard no mocking in his tone, witnessed no dismissing eye roll.
Chris had us remove our shoes, roll up our pants legs, and walk back and forth while he studied our gait and foot fall. He explained what he was looking for, what he saw, and suggested shoes that would be right for us. We tried on the suggested shoes, and then he watched us jog in them to see if they helped the slight over-pronation. He suggested other shoes. We repeated the process. He told me bluntly one pair wasn't helping me and I shouldn't buy them. He answered to all my dumb questions and didn't blow me off when I struggled to describe the different ways the shoes felt on my feet. He even pressed on the toe to check the fit, kinda like Momma used to do when I was little. I knew from the book there was supposed to be a thumb's width at the tip for the feet to swell, but it was great to talk with someone who knew what to check. He checked each shoe I tried on, and when decided on a pair (after we'd narrowed down the selection to a couple), he checked the fit again.
At the end of our fitting, which took about forty minutes, Chris took the time to ask about training and mention a running group for beginners, if we wanted to check it out. (I'm not going to yet.) He encouraged us to continue despite the soreness and pains that accompany the early days of training.
The window for replacing the shoes is between 300 and 500 miles, depending on the wear and how we will run. Chris said that as we run more and more we'll be able to tell when to buy new shoes by the feel of the run. Instead of being told running a marathon wasn't for me, he acted like he anticipated I'd finish and continue running after the big day.
I walked out of the store feeling good about myself. It was the first time I'd told a runner I'm training. Mentally, it was a big step.
And then I got home and immediately compared my new shoes to the running shoes I'd been wearing. Take a gander at the difference.
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Your temporarily foot-obsessed and forever long-winded friend,
Kristi
