I’ve never really been one for shopping. I don’t get the thrill and rush experienced by others I know at the thought of entering a clothes shop, in fact the only feeling I get is stomach lurching fear. I’m not even that great with necessary shopping, like for food for example, however this weekend I had to put on a brave face, bribe myself with a coffee for afterwards and go buy a pair of running spikes.
Spikes, for anyone who isn’t sure, are like lightweight trainers with sharp studs (or spikes as t’were) in the toe/ball of the sole to provide traction on the ground to help you run a tiny bit better. Also, being far more lightweight than regular trainers it means you run a tiny bit faster as you’re not lugging extra weight on your feet. All in all very helpful, especially if you have your first competition for about 10 years coming up next weekend, which I do (and am repressing).
So off I headed to my local specialist running shop, determined to talk to someone who knew a thing or two about spikes and also supporting my local independent. However my dedication to my local independent seemed to wither and die the moment I was shown the ONLY pair of spikes they had in stock. I didn’t realise before entering the shop, but apparently I am incredibly fussy about the colour of my footwear and didn’t even want to try on the shoes they had there, despite the reassurance that they were incredibly good and exactly what I needed. Instead I was possessed by my inner, and until then unknown, Victoria Beckham, turned up my nose and demanded to know where the next nearest sports shop was that would actually stock a choice of spikes (obviously to be Victoria Beckham you need to change ‘sports shop/spikes’ for ‘Louboutin’ and then factor in that she probably wouldn’t be shopping herself and has a team of staff to do that for her, but you get the impression)
As punishment it turned out my next nearest well stocked independent sport shop was bloody miles away in a place I had never heard of, so on the bus I jumped and headed off to my next destination. About 3 hours after I set out on my original mission, one diva strop, a near freak out, 4 buses and some very bemused shop staff later I came out with these. My ‘Hyper Rocketgirls’ (yes, seriously, that’s what the model is called.) I don’t know how I feel about them yet but I think, as they are purple, a bit glittery and have neon patches, that we shall soon become sure friends…. now just to run in them…