I’ve had to make a very important decision in the past few weeks. I have eliminated something very near and dear to my heart from my everyday life, and I just haven’t been the same since then. I may never be the same. I’m still having trouble talking about it, but here goes:
Goodbye, sassy heels and sleek pumps. I bid you adieu until after January. For the next month, plus all the necessary post-marathon healing days, I will only be wearing sensible shoes.
I finally had to use some common sense when it came to the way my knees were feeling. And my toes, for that matter. My poor feet and knees take a beating during my runs every week, and I was extending that beating by putting on my 3-inch black patent Calvin Kleins or 3.5-inch brown suede Donna Karans or various other beautiful and special shoes everyday with no regard for how much additional damage I was doing. The realization came when I was walking into my office and happened to glance at myself in the shiny window pane as I was going by. I realized I was hobbling into work each day in my fabulous, stylish shoes. Kinda takes away some of the fab and style when I look ridiculous limping around in them, wouldn’t you say?.
There really is no need for me to wear heels to work. I’m not trying to find a husband at the office, a’la Mad Men. (because we all know men are mysteriously drawn by the lure of high heels) I already have a husband, and while he
Strangely, the saddest thing about the whole situation isn’t giving up my favorite shoes. It’s that it is making me feel kind of old. Like there is some magical youthfulness attached to wearing high heels. Who knows? For some reason, even though I'm being as stylishly sensible as I know how trotting around in Danskos everyday, I sometimes feel like I’m wearing these:
I am leaving my days as a fashion icon behind and embracing my new runner identity. It's the only sensible thing to do.