Daze of Thunder

So I was changing shoes today while driving--seriously, if a cop ever followed me around, I'd be toast with my random multi-tasking commutes--and I can finally, finally say that I can now relate (in the most sliver-of-a-relatable-way) to NASCAR drivers. In the past, NASCAR and I haven't been on the same page. In the same book. Contracted by the same publisher. If I were a book . . . hmmm, what kind of book would I be? So many different styles, genres, fonts . . . whoops--back on track! If I were a book, I would be located as far as possible in the Dewey Decimal system away from the auto racing genre. (I think that analogy just answered what kind of literary tome I'd be--located in the geek section, that's what.)

Anyhow, the stoplight's frantic indecision between red and green only allowed for one shoe change. Right foot--Converse, left foot--Dansko. I marveled at the difference between the feel of my two shoes on the pedals. I felt at one with the gas pedal, alert to Erv's every surge and whim, while my left foot observed from afar--a bit removed from the situation, employing the clutch obediently when the need arose. I can see the benefits of both shoes, though. Sometimes you don't want to be so connected to your car. On long roadtrips, for instance, when you prefer a little distance. After all, your car is traveling hundreds of miles to save your feet from that same task. However, if racing a diabolically-grinning twin home from work . . . that is when the more supple shoe excels.

Shoe tangent #1
In a previous life (a.k.a. before this driving incident) I SCOFFED at the idea of a driving shoe. Let me tell you, nothing persuades even the most reluctant shopper to hit the racks like thumbing through the book The One Hundred, by Nina Garcia. From advice about fishnets (it's a fine like between fierce and floozy) to the classic LBD to anything you can think to adorn yourself with, this book has enticing recommendations coupled with pithy anecdotes--a winner! I was pretty much simpatico with most of their observations until I hit the entry for "driving shoes." Seriously, what decade was that entry written in? Whilst driving to summer in the Hamptons in the 40's? I may have to review that paragraph again.

Shoe tangent #2
Mismatched shoes are not an unknown phenomenon in my universe. One of my favorite runs is a quick five-miler that starts on the Hillside at Goldenview Middle School and ends at Robin's house. It's a palatable combination of downhills and flats, with just a few baby uphills to climb. One day, anxious to get going (my life doesn't lend itself generously to unscheduled time), I locked my car, pocketed the key, started my iPod and hightailed it out of the parking lot. Not more than two blocks away from Erv, I was startled to realize that while my shoes were the same brand, they were not the same model. Or should I have said "style"? I'll have to consult my FamousFootwearSalesgirlInAnotherLife sister about this and see if I have to revise my thinking. Bygones.

Should I have turned back? Probably. Did I? Of course not. There's just something so inherently wrong about traveling in the reverse direction of your ultimate destination. I chose to "silver lining" it and view it as an opportunity to get a good, side-by-side comparison of my accidental footwear of choice. You would think that one would emerge the obvious victor, but once again, my non-powers of observation failed me. I alternated running along, forgetting to compare with freaking out and overanalyzing each stride. It flabbergasted me, I tell you.