Trail runners are the best people.
Remember how I asked for a training master?
Out of nowhere, like 50 people came at me.
Because who wouldn’t want to be in charge of me.
I’m a treat.
And then I started complaining about pains. And needing arch tape.
And obviously I can’t really train for the double until I get new road shoes.
So, K-Rob-D decided to force me out to Fleet Feet to go shoe shopping On Wednesday.
And she has so little trust in me that she created an entire event. Because that’s how my life is run. Through Facebook events.
And also she invited other people.
Because I guess she needed backup?
So, I walked in. To my shoe party event. Exactly on time. And K-Rob, Tiny Brazilian, and Finn’s Dad were standing there waiting. And had already claimed a Fleet Feet employee.
Who happened to be the aunt of one of my son’s best friends. A kid who basically lived in my home for ten years. A kid I’ve generally claimed as my own.
So, that basically makes her my sister.
This may explain the immediate comfort I felt with her.
Almost too comfortable…
See, food is the issue.
GBFF…WHTBS says I should never do dinner as a first date.
Because watching me eat is a little…unsettling, I guess?
This is why I will be alone forever.
Because dudes don’t know how to first date without dinner.
But also, if food is not involved, I become far less charming than my usual.
It’s kind of a catch-22.
Or maybe a Sophie’s Choice?
Would I rather scare them off with my eating habits or my hunger ire?
Anyway. I’m not sure why. As soon as I sat on the bench. And my new Shoe Sister sat in front of me on her shoe magician stool. Finn’s Dad thought it was the appropriate moment to shove a box of cookies in my face.
Because of course I’m gonna take one.
And. Ok. I just don’t even know.
Maybe I’ve lived alone too long?
I just can’t not shove the food into my face. I don’t know how to not do that.
The whole cookie.
I shoved the entire cookie. Into my mouth.
And it was a fairly large cookie.
So, I’m sitting there. With this giant cookie filling my mouth. Immediately regretting my lack of restraint. Trying to work it around enough to try to chew it. And still get oxygen.
And then I tried to communicate with Shoe Sister.
Which is how she ended up with little bits of cookie spit. All over her.
*sigh*
I know.
But look. Homegirl took it way better than some dude would have.
Like, she didn’t even blink.
She just kept communicating with me.
Y’all. This chick has the soul of a trail runner.
She is one of us.
“Ok. So the first thing we’re gonna do is scan your feet.”
Cool.
“And then I’ll check out your gait.”
Damn.
Ok. So the last time a professional said those words to me, he basically diagnosed me as the unsexiest woman on the planet.
So I’m a little gun shy about walking in front of people.
Except also I don’t fully care.
Because it’s not like I can get past the first date dinner, anyway.
So, sure. Ok. Let’s do this.
Shoe Sister did not call me unsexy.
Which I appreciated.
She did tell me that I have tall feet.
Which sounded like a compliment.
Like, you know how they call chicks a leggy blonde. As a compliment?
I’m like a footy brunette.
That’s probably almost the same, right?
Anyway.
My arches really like their space.
So armed with this insight, Shoe Sister proceeded to bring out 5,000 pairs of shoes for me to try.
And run in.
It was a long process.
And she was super patient.
I got in a solid three miles. Running around the Fleet Feet parking lot.
Before falling in love.
With a wintry pair of Mizunos.
And maybe Tiny Brazilian got her feet scanned, too.
And probably measured into a real life grown up size.
Probably…
Anyway, we bought the shoes.
Ok. I say we.
Except them.
These people.
Because we get up to the register.
And Shoe Sister pulls out a pile of gift cards.
From Beautiful Beastie. And Tiny Brazilian. And K-Rob-D. And Finn’s Dad.
Y’all.
These people bought me new running shoes.
Like, expensive new full price running shoes.
I’ve never bought expensive new full price running shoes.
Ever.
And I stood there.
Like an idiot.
Trying to figure out what to say. And also to try maybe not crying. In public.
How did I find these people? Who does something like this? Who are they?
Remember when I wrote about my teammates?
That’s who these people are.
We take care of each other. Except they do most of the caring. I’m mostly just along for the ride.
The really fun, challenging ride.
And that sweet medal board behind them?
Forensics AF gave me that.
She made it.
For her husband.
And then gave it to me.
Maybe there is more backstory there. But I’m going with the front story of, she created and gifted this to me.
I’m just saying.
My people love me.
For reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me.
Because I’m pretty selfish. And self-involved.
But also, fairly aloof.
So I’m not gonna overthink it.
I’m gonna just accept it. Their love.
And also do exactly as I’m told.
And try not to whine too much.
Because they own me now.
They are my training masters.
And apparently Sunday is gonna be an Endurance Day.
So…ima just whine to y’all. After the fact. Because I have to have an outlet.
It’s not good to hold your whine.
Kinda like not holding your pee. You’re not supposed to hold your whine or your pee.
Which is fine.
Because I can’t really hold either one.
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