Around the bench where I was sitting in the running emporium, the floor was littered with eight or nine pairs of running shoes. They were marvels of design and technology and for a brief time each of them had been on my feet.

But none of them had been quite right.

About the time I cast pair three out on the ocean of rejection, I had been quite apologetic to the brisk woman coiffed in a brush cut who was fitting me. This was the point in the past where the bored, teenaged clerks at my local sports store had been rolling their eyes at me, their whole bodies screaming, "Yeah, whatever. Make up your mind."

This woman's attitude was completely different. "They have to be right."

She brought out two more pairs, laced up the shoes and handed them to me. As I tried the first pair on my brain said, "These shoes put the ugh in ugly. What is it with this weird mesh business?"

I stood up and rocked experimentally and then walked a few steps.

My feet said, "This feels like barefoot, only better."

As I walked, I looked down at the shoes. My brain said, "The only way I will go running in these shoes is if they are encased in paper bags so no one can see them."

My feet said, "I pity the fool who tries to take these shoes off me."

I wavered. The shoes felt wonderful but oh man, they were so ugly. Plus, they were a good $30 more than I have ever spent on any footwear ever. Ugly and expensive. Oh man.

"Do you know about bunny lacing?" the salesperson asked. I confessed I did not. She uncrossed the final lacing of my shoes, took the lace from the second hole from the top of the shoe and jumped it across to the top hole in the same side of the shoe. The shoelace loop stuck up in the air like a big bunny ear.

She did the same thing on the other side. Then she took the end of the lace from the right side and threaded it up through the bunny ear on the left. She did the same thing with the other lace. Then she tightened my shoes and tied them.

The fit, which had been wonderful before, suddenly went to exquisite. My feet said, "Brain, we're buying these shoes. One peep from you and you're dead to us."

And so it was that with one extra little thoughtful touch that woman got me to spend $30 more on shoes it pains me to look at, $30 more than I have ever paid for any footwear in my penny-pinching life.

Will these shoes still feel wonderful after 45 minutes on a treadmill? Or are these shoes cads and bounders, just trifling with my feet's affections? In a store it's hard to tell if a shoe is only interested in a casual walking experience and not able to commit to something serious such as running. Fortunately, the running emporium has a policy that you have a month to try shoes on a treadmill. If they aren't right, I can take them back.

Oh, man, but I hope things work out on Monday when my new shoes go for their first visit to my gym. If there has to be a break-up, my feet won't take it well, eh.

--Marn

P.S.�Diaryland, beloved home of MarnCo�the ruthless multinational behind The Big Adventure--is having server problems. Never fear, my images will return shortly.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 318.94 miles. Double Duckage. My joy knows no bounds.