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Shoe Buying Angst

Buying a measly pair of running shoes shouldn’t cause me all this angst.

I found myself in Williamsport this afternoon and remembered this cool running store where the staff measures your feet and checks your pronation and everything, then guides you to the best shoe for your foot.

What place does that anymore, huh?

Yeah. NOWHERE.

I’ve been needing a new pair of running shoes, so today I went to that store.

The guy used one of those old-fashioned shoe sizers like this one, and assessed my foot (I am a true size 8 and have good, high arches) and then brought out two kinds of shoes for me to try on.

Thing is, one model he didn’t have in my exact size, and both models were in colors that I didn’t like.

“You have these in another color?” I asked.

“No, but I can order them and they’ll be here in 10 days.”

(Ten days???  “You gotta be kidding me, dude. (I thought) “I can go out to my car right now, pull up Zappos on my Ipad, order these shoes in the size and color I want, and they are on my feet by Monday.  You’re kidding me about the 10 days, right??”)

I want to support a business like this; a business that measures my foot and all, but really?

I left without buying those shoes.  But here’s the thing: I REALLY WANTED TO BUY THEM THERE!

I did. But I didn’t.

Author:

I’m a small town yoga teacher who says motherfucker a lot. I hate anything woo. I’m into neuroscience. And facts. I’ll lead the chanting of “om” sometimes, but it makes me feel awkward. I want to access flow states. As far as yoga helps me do that, I’m into it. Dopamine is my fave neurotransmitter. Don’t tell anyone I told you this.

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