I was talking to a friend yesterday, telling her my plan to go to this running specialty shop today to get fitted for some shoes. My new running kick (heh) has finally pushed me to invest in some better shoes than the four-year-old cross-trainers I've been wearing for the past few months as I've ramped up my fitness. But I wanted to get an expert fitting because I'd never had my stride analyzed to see if I'm a heel-striker, a mid-foot runner, etc.... My friend said: "Remember, if you pronate it doesn't mean you're a bad person."
I'd heard the term "pronate" but didn't know what it meant. I guess I thought it was bad technique that could be repaired with practice, but as soon as she said that I really started hoping I don't pronate -- again, without knowing exactly why I needed to hope that. But after a short twenty-foot walk from a shelf to a window, Marshal at Freedom Sports, Panama City Beach, took me to the more cushiony section of the wall for flatfeet like me, and showed me a few different pairs having extra support. Without any prompting from me at all, he said something to the effect of "It's not a big deal -- a lot of people over-pronate." I'm sure that's true, and I'm very happy with my new ultra-cushiony scoots. But I still can't help feeling like the victim of a tragic accident that's left me somehow disfigured. An accident that's left me... a pronater.*
