If you’re a regular reader you know I’m constantly promoting my New Balance — how they get me from A to B and most importantly how they helped me train and survive the Warrior Dash.
New Balance (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
However, I wasn’t always a New Balance chick. I used to sport Nikes. They were supposedly the first name in athletic footwear. You know the kind that has names like Air Jordan, Air Flex, Revolution, Reax Run 5, Air Monarch, Torch, Dual Fusion and etc…
They make you feel like you’re gonna come out of your house in your Super Cape, ready to be a badass in any circumstances, athletic or otherwise.
Lies … All lies.
That swoosh meant excellence and style … until it happened. After that, Nike just sucked.
While I was substitute teaching, I realized that you really don’t need to give these kids any more ammunition than necessary. Middle school is killer. Be strict. Be firm. Be fair. And most importantly dress appropriately. Those were the rules. That’s it. You don’t want some crazy hairdo that ignites killer comments and ridicule, or a saucy outfit that gets hormone-raging teenagers grossly checking you out.
You wear the basics.
Now despite other teachers showing up in flip-flops, shorts, and wrinkled t-shirts with coffee stains, I maintained a sensible dress code. Not a suit and tie, but professional: slacks and collared shirts. But then I realized that this particular school which called me on a regular basis had casual Fridays and then that’s when it happened.
I decided to wear sneakers. My running shoes were dirty, so I decided to wear a pair of older shoes that I knew were clean. I hadn’t worn them in a long time, but they were practically brand new — preserved in their brown and orange box with the tissue paper still in tact.
They were old school. White, with aqua blue and neon green accents. That’s right … neon green. Lightweight volleyball looking shoes with a light brown sole. I thought I was styling, color coordinating with my wardrobe.
I didn’t even last first period.
I was walking across the library floor when I felt a breeze. How could there be a breeze in the library? The crazy menopausal librarian hadn’t turned on the air-conditioner yet. But my feet felt cool.
As I turned back to get something from the front desk I noticed pieces of rubber scattered around. Then I heard the flapping. I looked down … my shoes had disintegrated. I could see every layer of tennis shoe as it flapped around. The insoles, the lining, the foam, and my sock. The aqua blue swoosh, however, was still swooshing.
These manufactured shoes are supposed to be the epitome of quality. Instead I had to walk around with duct around my shoes. They each fell apart, one faster than the other. The librarian kept wondering where all this rubber came from.
Luckily I was giving the state exam the rest of the day and could hide behind a table. My dude drove out to the school site and brought me an extra pair of working shoes. New Balance shoes.
I wrote Nike a letter — you know, one of my famous customer service letters — and I never got an answer.
I haven’t bought a pair of Nikes since then. I’m all about my New Balance.
The Wish Factor 