Her toes were ready to rumble, but where did her shoes go?

Her toes were ready to rumble, but where did her shoes go?

Previously, on What Would Another Mother Runner Do (WWAMRD), we’ve debated whether Jessica should run a half-marathon pregnant and pondered the plight of Jenn, who realized she had two right shoes at the start of the run portion of a sprint triathlon. Our latest installment explores the dilemma of Alison, the mother runner of one who hosted our Montclair, N.J., Mother Runner party last spring. Here’s her story:
It’s Saturday afternoon, day before the New York City Marathon. I was obsessing a little over what to wear the next day; it had been so unseasonably warm that I hadn’t trained in cold weather gear and had planned to wear shorts and a tank, but now they were predicting 30-degree weather while we waited to start in Staten Island, then 20 mph winds while we were running.So after trying on about four different outfit combinations, right down to different socks and headbands, I decided I was losing it and left the house to get a pedicure and chill out.
When I got back mid-afternoon, I felt  great; time to just not think so hard, pull together my pile of race stuff, and let it all go, right? Right. I started making the pile, and couldn’t find my shoes. I thought I’d left them in front of my closet in my room, but no dice. Checked the bathroom. Checked my office. Checked the family room. Checked every bag I’d used in the last couple weeks, even though that didn’t make sense, because I’d just worn them the previous morning for an outdoor pre-work run.I started feeling a little panicky, but mostly just irritated; I was wasting a lot of energy running up and down the stairs looking for my damn shoes.
My husband thought I was nuts. “Of course they’re here,” he said over and over, “Where else could they be?” He started to help me look. Twenty minutes later, both of us were totally baffled. Then he had the smart idea to text our cleaning lady, who comes on Fridays. Maybe she’d seen them. He got an immediate reply, and I heard him go, “Oh no …”
She said she absolutely remembered them — the pink ones, by the closet upstairs, right? — and that she’d scooped them up with the rest of our stuff for Goodwill, and donated them while volunteering at a church in Newark that morning.
Oh. My. God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Nononononononononooooooooo! That was my reaction. With the wail at the end and everything. Over and over and over. But they weren’t IN the Goodwill bag, even if they were NEAR the Goodwill bag. How could this happen? This is a bad joke, right? Then, worse: Oh NO! My custom orthotics were in there too! What am I going to dooooooo?
I tried to be practical: What church? Can we call them? Maybe I can go and explain and get them back. Our cleaning lady was on the phone at this point, having figured out that a horrible mistake had been made. It got worse: No chance to get them back, she had seen them given out at the community event that morning. They were gone for good.
Then I started really freaking out. I could still run in an old pair of shoes, but I didn’t think I could run without my orthotics. The only other marathon I’ve ever done was 13 years ago, when I was a heck of a lot younger and more, um, spry. Plus, during all runs north of 13 miles, I’d had major foot pain. I ignored it, of course, because that’s what you do when you’re 25 and still kind of stupid, and I finished that marathon with an awful stress fracture in my right shin as a result. Then I didn’t run for nearly a decade. When I came back to it a few years ago, the same foot pain got me at any distance above 3 miles, and after doing an 8K Turkey Trot at Thanksgiving in 2009, I landed in a boot for 6 weeks afterward…same issue.
So last year, when I decided to really give this sport a try again, I pre-emptively went to a podiatrist, asked her for help, and she made me custom orthotics. They changed everything. I’d successfully done two half-marathons in the last year, so I was convinced they were my ticket to an injury-free marathon.
Without them … well, cue the hysterics. I mean, full-on hiccupping, ugly-crying, blotchy-faced hysterics … me, just devastated that four months of training (and a lot of fundraising-related Facebooking about the training experience) down the drain.
Cut! What would you have done?
Dimity says: Definitely would’ve run. I probably would’ve gone to my local running store, bought the exact same model of the shoes that were whisked away, and taken my chances on them. I might have put in some over-the-counter insoles as well. And I would’ve cried a lot too–probably more than Ali did.
Sarah says: Fired the cleaning lady….J/K, J/K. Given that I always rotate two pairs of the same model of running shoe, I would have grabbed my auxilliary pair, added a pair of the most comfortable-but-heavy-duty over-the-counter insoles I could find, and called it good. And instead of tears, I would have let a slew of swear words fly.
What Ali did: Ultimately, my husband and my podiatrist talked me off the ledge. After convincing Dr. Cappiello’s after-hours answering service that I was, in fact, experiencing the closest thing to a podiatric emergency that exists (apologies to all actual emergencies; I was clearly beyond reason), my doc called me back and said that while it wasn’t ideal, the real wear-and-tear on the body happens during training, so the fact that I’d worn the orthotics for the entire last year put me in a good position.
Then she said if I could  get to my local running store and pick up a pair of over-the-counter insoles, those would help.  I should do the race, trust my training to hold onto the form I’d learned over the previous year of running with the insoles, and we’d hope for the best—and she’d make me a new pair after the marathon!
Meanwhile, my husband was on the phone to our local Fleet Feet to find out how much later they’d be open, and they advised we hoof it to a specialty store called Foot Solutions, which they said had semi-custom options that were even better.
Those folks closed at 4:30 p.m. on Saturdays, but my husband begged them to stick around for me and I jumped into the car and sped over.
Well-wishes from her awesome doctor on race morning.

Well-wishes from her awesome doctor on race morning.

By dinner time, over-the-counter insoles in hand, I finally quit crying, then went to bed early, and hoped for the best.
Suited up with old kicks, new insoles, and fresh 110% Flat Out Sox.

Suited up with old kicks, new insoles, and fresh 110% Flat Out Sox.

How’d the race go? Well, my old shoes + new orthotics felt weird, no question. But not bad. I had some foot cramps at mile 4 and then again at mile 8, which had never happened before. They got worse when I thought about them, so I just started taking random photos with my phone and Instagramming while I ran to distract myself, and they went away.
Beautiful day--and beautiful mile 24!

Beautiful day–and beautiful mile 24!

I took more (and longer) walk breaks than I would have liked, adding about 30 minutes to my expected running time … but I did finish, and I finished healthy. My knees and hips hurt the next day, which I’ve never felt before, so I’m guessing the footwear change-up also changed something about my gait, but by Tuesday I was 100% back to normal.
Best pic of the race? A hug from her fam.

Best pic of the race? A hug from her fam.

And I wouldn’t trade my photo-blogging tour of the Big Apple for anything, even a faster race time. Besides, what’s the New York City Marathon without a crazy story to go with it?
Who needs shoes and orthotics when you've got cake?

Who needs shoes and orthotics when you’ve got cake?