The nice thing about having flat feet is that they give me an excuse for not enlisting in the Army. If someone asks "Why don't you enlist in the Army?" I can say, with all honesty, "I have flat feet."
When I was a teenager, a podiatrist prescribed orthotics, or molded plastic shoe inserts that would prevent my feet from rolling inward on my collapsed arches. This would lessen the risk of future knee and hip pain, he said. I remember my mother nodding in silent agreement and putting the prescription in her purse.
We never bought the orthotics. We did drive over the specialty footwear shop recommended by the doctor. We did look at the orthotics. Turning them over in my hand I realized that orthotics would slip right out of the six-inch platform sandals I liked to wear. Hip pain or my my my my boogie shoes?
Thus began my love-hate relationship with orthopedic solutions to my fallen insoles.
About 10 years ago, a salesman at Fleet Feet recommended I wear "motion control" running shoes -- shoes styled after flat-bottom boats and roughly the same size. Motion control shoes are meant to stop feet from moving even when the rest of you is sailing right along. They are huge (think ottoman). They are white. They are ugly. I took them home.
Last weekend, I was again at Fleet Feet. As I browsed the neon and teal selections of regular running shoes meant for regular people I thought "Hips and knees be damned!" I ended up with a pair of really cute lime and fuchsia Asics. Today I tried them out for the first time, loping around the neighborhood.
As I neared the end of the first block, trying my best to think only about the Wombats song pumping through my earbuds, a terrible thought crept over my brain.
My feet are sliding around like Jell-O on a turntable. I employed my toes. I made them grab the shoe.
Now my toes are exhausted.
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