But They've Got the "Swoosh..."
Apr. 12th, 2013 09:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisnewdayYesterday I continued my search for some reasonably-priced running shoes. You know, for when I finally make good on that promise to self about extending life by getting fit. And I'd actually tried on several pairs of low-end, name-brand shoes at BJ's, but had concerns about durability and function.
The latest footwear fetish, now being worshipped in all the sports catalogs and fitness mags, is ultra lightness in weight. Which is apparently hard to achieve, while maintaining things like impact absorption, without an astronomical price tag. Unfortunately this has played into the hands of certain overseas trading partners who are happy to make 'em lighter (thus lowering manufacturing and shipping costs), but who aren't nearly as concerned about whether they're killing our feet.
So I drove out I-690 to the Dick's Clothing and Sporting Goods in Dewitt. From previous experience, I know that even a passing glance at those enticing racks of spring-hued outerwear, on my way through the store to the shoe department, is enough to induce a debilitating sticker shock in an old guy like me. That's because I'm not nearly as worried about the rest of what I wear possibly falling off in transit as I am about the continued functionality of hips, knees, ankles and feet. And so I've adjusted my expectations of price, for the stuff that only covers me, to the levels of a Walmart, Target, or K-Mart.
So if you see a half-naked guy wearing slightly better than halfway decent shoes, on your next trip through Walmart, it might be me. But don't expect me to stop and chat, because I'm probably on my way to pick up a family member at work or at the casino and I definitely don't give autographs.
Anyway, Dick's has decent enough shoes, in a wide enough range of prices including a few "loss leaders," that it's at least worth a look. So I'm standing at the shoe display, along the back wall of the store, when this couple comes in to buy their seven or eight-year-old son a pair of playground shoes. They're obviously from the same affluent suburb that the store is in and I'd bet my Social Security check that their kid is home-schooled as well.
My back is turned to them when I hear the mother yell, "Run, Geoffrey, run." And just as I turn to look, this kid comes flying down the running track, which is part of the fitness motif in the shoe department, and almost runs me over.
And all the parents say is, "Careful, Geoff," obviously concerned that the old fart, who their little sociopath has almost killed, may know a personal injury lawyer other than the one who's now on his way to jail for having kiddie porn on his home computer.
So I say to them, "Heck, if I'd known we could do that, I'd have had my grandson bring his soccer ball when we bought his new cleats."
To which the wife replies, with her back to me and with an accent like Thurston Howell's, "It's obviously a running track, not a soccer field." Yup, they're from Dewitt.
Once they'd left, and the track was cleared of the debris which included my bifocals and false teeth, I turned back to the shoe display and found an all-black Nike with a fully-cushioned sole and well-made upper for 48 bucks, marked down from 60. So I tried on a couple pairs for size and bought 'em. You know, the pair that fit.
Then I headed home to show them to my grandson. Figuring that I might be excused for a bit of drama, upon acquisition of my first pair of running shoes in three years, I say to him, "Now check these out, but try not to be jealous."
And he says, obviously unimpressed, "But they're all BLACK."
"But they're NIKES and they've got the 'SWOOSH,'" I protest, holding them at different viewing angles, as if channeling Vanna White.
To which he says, with crushing finality, "Yeah, but IT'S black too."
Should've known it would be tough to impress a ten-year-old who's been wearing $75 Air Jordans since kindergarten...
LPK
LiveJournal
4.12.2013
The latest footwear fetish, now being worshipped in all the sports catalogs and fitness mags, is ultra lightness in weight. Which is apparently hard to achieve, while maintaining things like impact absorption, without an astronomical price tag. Unfortunately this has played into the hands of certain overseas trading partners who are happy to make 'em lighter (thus lowering manufacturing and shipping costs), but who aren't nearly as concerned about whether they're killing our feet.
So I drove out I-690 to the Dick's Clothing and Sporting Goods in Dewitt. From previous experience, I know that even a passing glance at those enticing racks of spring-hued outerwear, on my way through the store to the shoe department, is enough to induce a debilitating sticker shock in an old guy like me. That's because I'm not nearly as worried about the rest of what I wear possibly falling off in transit as I am about the continued functionality of hips, knees, ankles and feet. And so I've adjusted my expectations of price, for the stuff that only covers me, to the levels of a Walmart, Target, or K-Mart.
So if you see a half-naked guy wearing slightly better than halfway decent shoes, on your next trip through Walmart, it might be me. But don't expect me to stop and chat, because I'm probably on my way to pick up a family member at work or at the casino and I definitely don't give autographs.
Anyway, Dick's has decent enough shoes, in a wide enough range of prices including a few "loss leaders," that it's at least worth a look. So I'm standing at the shoe display, along the back wall of the store, when this couple comes in to buy their seven or eight-year-old son a pair of playground shoes. They're obviously from the same affluent suburb that the store is in and I'd bet my Social Security check that their kid is home-schooled as well.
My back is turned to them when I hear the mother yell, "Run, Geoffrey, run." And just as I turn to look, this kid comes flying down the running track, which is part of the fitness motif in the shoe department, and almost runs me over.
And all the parents say is, "Careful, Geoff," obviously concerned that the old fart, who their little sociopath has almost killed, may know a personal injury lawyer other than the one who's now on his way to jail for having kiddie porn on his home computer.
So I say to them, "Heck, if I'd known we could do that, I'd have had my grandson bring his soccer ball when we bought his new cleats."
To which the wife replies, with her back to me and with an accent like Thurston Howell's, "It's obviously a running track, not a soccer field." Yup, they're from Dewitt.
Once they'd left, and the track was cleared of the debris which included my bifocals and false teeth, I turned back to the shoe display and found an all-black Nike with a fully-cushioned sole and well-made upper for 48 bucks, marked down from 60. So I tried on a couple pairs for size and bought 'em. You know, the pair that fit.
Then I headed home to show them to my grandson. Figuring that I might be excused for a bit of drama, upon acquisition of my first pair of running shoes in three years, I say to him, "Now check these out, but try not to be jealous."
And he says, obviously unimpressed, "But they're all BLACK."
"But they're NIKES and they've got the 'SWOOSH,'" I protest, holding them at different viewing angles, as if channeling Vanna White.
To which he says, with crushing finality, "Yeah, but IT'S black too."
Should've known it would be tough to impress a ten-year-old who's been wearing $75 Air Jordans since kindergarten...
LPK
LiveJournal
4.12.2013
