This week: Footwear
by Alix Weisfeld, Chicago Tri Club Member 

On Tuesday, I bought my first clipless pedals. Having clipless pedals kind of reminds me of standing at the grocery check-out buying nothing but 18 tiny tins of cat food next to someone else making a similar purchase. As you are both building precarious kitty chow towers on the conveyer belt, you’ve already got a bond strong enough for you to invite them over for dinner, except that all you have to serve is Yum Yum Turkey Time with Salmon Giblets. And would you like a saucer of white wine with that?

I think clipless pedals operate in a similar way. There you are, gliding in to a stoplight. Ah, look, that guy has clipless pedals, too. He must be a serious biker, like me. You, members of an elite group of “in” cyclists, exchange knowing smiles. And then you topple over at a dead stop. The light changes, he moves effortlessly on, while you check your pants to see if your water bottle leaked all over your crotch in the fall.

Yes, clipless pedals are a social marker among us cyclists. If you have them, you are expected to be fast. I, however, am not fast, so I have had to devise a clever way around this problem. “Ha ha!” I say, as other clipped-in cyclists whiz by me, “Just warming up! I’ll catch up with you in Evanston! Or should we meet in Elgin?” But I don’t mean to make fun of them. There are benefits to using clipless pedals that I take very seriously: a more powerful pedal stroke because you are able to pull up with your legs in addition to pushing down, more efficient cycling because more of your energy is transferred directly to the bike, and bike shoes that are actually tap shoes with Velcro you can use to tippity-tap your way across your building lobby. These things are all very important to me as a triathlete. Tap tap!

I also have spent a fair amount of time finding the right kind of running shoes. I pronate pretty seriously when I walk (read: duck), so I have to wear rather unattractive shoes that keep my feet well supported. Fleet Feet has a sign that says something like “You can’t buy running shoes based on color,” which, for us pronators, translates into: “I hope you like blue.” My salesman showed me four pairs of shoes (blue on gray, blue on white, blue on light gray, and blue on gray and white) designed for my particular feet. I trotted around a little bit, he assessed my turnout (severe), and then we settled on blue and white, because it goes with more of my wardrobe. The shoes are actually wonderful, reducing knee and other joint pain pretty well.

Actually, I have several (four) other pair of blue and white shoes at home. The most recent pair was purchased for me by my grandmother in November. She does not know I replaced them immediately (they were not pronate-friendly), but because they look almost identical, I’m betting she won’t be able to tell the difference when I go down to Florida for a visit this weekend. Also, it helps that she doesn’t see so well anymore.