It was Day #3 of trying the various pairs of boots I rooted out from the basement the other day for the purpose of walking in the snow.
The first pair – way too tight; the second pair (obviously missized) – wouldn’t go over either foot; and, the third pair, which I wore today – well, just perfect. Now, lest you think this is a story like Goldilocks and the Three Bears – it isn’t … but you might have detected a slight similarity.
I was bound and determined I was going to eke out a long walk today since the boss was away and the weather was above zero for a change.
I set out, carefully navigating along the sidewalk, steering clear of icy patches and snow where no one has shoveled yet this season. Here in Michigan, we are famous for our potholes and they have already sprouted up – in the streets and even on the sidewalks.
It made walking a little dicey, but hey … I got in four miles before the walk was over.
Walking in boots is no fun though, so I continue counting the days ‘til the snow is gone and I am free to pound the pavement without fear of wiping out.
These past few days, in the process of testing this trio of boots, I came to the conclusion, once again, that a “momism” I heard over the years probably indeed came to fruition. A “momism” is what I have identified in past posts as my mom’s frequent pearls of wisdom rendered whether solicited or not. In fact, I wrote a blog post about “momisms” awhile back after my sweatpants fell down when I was walking on the trail on day. The string tie broke, and, nope … I wasn’t carrying a safety pin with me either. Oops.
Like everyone else in the 70s, as a young women who was a slave to fashion trends, I owned a pair of Earth Shoes. They were hardly the type of footwear a fashionista would reach for first in her closet. They were probably the ugliest-looking shoes ever created. Both guys and gals wore them, not that you could see much of the shoe under our bell-bottom jeans. Earth Shoes were dark brown, they scuffed easily and became even more drab looking as they wore out. You actually wanted them to look that way. They had a negative heel and laced up like an oxford. But, like everyone else in the 70s, we wore them because we all wanted to look alike.
(Being a free spirit and doing your own thing comes much later in life.)
I think they were the footwear fad somewhere in between the Buffalo platform sandals with the four-inch wedge heel (which made me tower over six feet) and construction boots. It seemed like the uglier your footwear was, the happier you were. My mom would take one look at my feet and ask “why?” … I, of course, had an answer ready and replied “everyone else is wearing them and I got them with my own money” … my mom countered with the old adage “if everyone jumps off a bridge, do you have to follow?”
Now, I know you heard that last line before – I heard it many times growing up.
Not only did I wear those ugly Earth Shoes with my jeans, but I also wore them in white to match my waitress uniform at the diner where I worked through college. My mom often admonished me, proclaiming “your feet will spread and years from now, you’ll never wear pretty pumps or delicate shoes when you get older” … of course, you can’t tell young people anything, then … or nowadays.
Fast forward some 40 years … give or take a year.
Mom was right.
Of my trio of boots – the biggest and widest pair fit the best. I cringed when I saw they were size 9 and fit perfectly. Well … you gotta figure that walking some 3-5 miles a day most days, while wearing walking shoes with lots of room to wiggle your toes, would wreak havoc on your feet, eventually. It probably doesn’t help that I wear soft moccasins in the house all day and haven’t donned a pair of pumps in at least 5-6 years.
As I set out this morning, my steps were tiny and timid, that is ‘til I felt sure-footed. I felt like my gait resembled that of the Duke … with alot less swagger, of course.
[The photo credit today is attributed to my boss Robb who e-mailed me this picture of the Duke from his Blackberry upon his arrival Wednesday at John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California.]