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Thorn In My Side



Admittedly, I spend a good chunk of money on shoes, and for good reason. It can be shown that cheap shoes usually are badly made, and aren't worth the money paid for them. And while I may not be a Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo kind of girl, I definitely will drop some change on footwear. This is particularly true for my gym shoes.


No, seriously, it really is a good idea. I mean, think about all the punishment that you're doling out on your feet when in the gym, or going for a good walk on a trail. With cheap things thrown together, you could seriously hurt yourself, and not just your feet. Add to that the facts that I have high arches (even before I started wearing high heels) and have had knee problems for 25 years, and you start to understand that a $10 pair of kicks aren't going to give me the support that I need to go on a 4-mile walk, or a 1 1/2 hour cardio and weights routine. And since I go well past the 500-mile rule-of-thumb, I get my money out of them.


After a wonderful 2 1/2 years, my recent pair of running shoes has officially died. Yes, I should have gotten the hint when my cat decided that she 'needed' to rub all over them once I took them off...but, no, the decision was made once my left arch started barking. Plantar fasciitis. Joyous fun. And instead of being mildly annoying and going away in 24 hours, it's lingering, very painful, and makes the cardio and walking routines almost out of reach. (On the other hand, I'm swimming more than I have in quite some time...and my skin isn't snow white anymore. Silver lining, and all.)


So, off to the shoe store for me. There's a really great one in the next town over, one that caters specifically to gym shoes and running shoes of all types. They even analyze your foot and your gait in order to get the right shoe. Sure, I knew how much I was going to spend on the shoes, and knew that the extra attention to detail was going to be added onto the price, but the end result is that I get a pair of shoes that fits perfectly, and my foot won't hurt as much anymore.


When I got home, I noticed that Bella hadn't moved from 'her' gym shoes...getting more stinky essence, I guess. I picked up the old shoes, with the intent of giving them a proper burial in the garbage can, when she starts crying. Not just the cute-kitten cry, but the 'Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!' cry. I rolled my eyes, and finished my chore. That was over 2 hours ago...Bella is still sulking in the garage.


Just goes to show: one person's trash is another cat's treasure.