Running shoe revelation is the least-best-kept secret
Around this time last year, I asked a triathlete friend for suggestions on a good running shoe. The brand I’d been wearing for decades had become clunky and less durable. She recommended Hokas, though she’d warned me that their thick soles looked a bit ridiculous.
At 5-foot-1½, I didn’t mind a lift. I also tend to run heavy, and my footfalls resemble a galloping Clydesdale. When I slipped on the navy-blue shoes, with teal and pink, I felt like Mercury in his winged sandals, light as a feather yet cushioning with every step. They’re maximalist in form, compared to the styles of nearly barefoot running.
I also basked in the glow of a recommendation by an Ironwoman, which felt like insider knowledge, even if I wouldn’t be using my pair to run in a competition that encompasses a marathon, 2.4-mile swim and 112-mile bike ride. I also felt cool wearing gear that had originated in France. Now based in Goleta (Santa Barbara County), its name is fun to say and means to soar or to fly in Maori.
On Thanksgiving, I plan to lace them up for a turkey trot, joining hundreds of thousands of runners across the country. To my surprise, I learned it’s become the most popular day of the year to run a race, perhaps because of the lowstakes fun, familyfriendly vibe and the race fees that go toward charity.
Such events help get your blood pumping before the season of gluttony begins. (This week, I’m swapping sections of pie with two different sets of friends, so that we each have a delicious Frankenstein version.)
At the race, I’ll probably spot scores of Hokas too. Do you have a pair? A few months ago, I had my first inkling that what felt like a secret was in fact wellknown and widespread. Podcast host John Hodgman mentioned the ultimate dis: A young clerk recommended Hokas, because his father and his friends that age wore them!
I checked: Hodgman is 51 years old. I’m 47. To the clerk, I suspect I’d appear to be of that generation too.
Apparently, Britney Spears wears Hokas, as do actresses Reese Witherspoon and Gwyneth Paltrow. Their stamp of approval could have attracted fans who can afford the running shoe but not the ballroom gowns or jewelry of their favorite celebrities.
I’ve never been the type to stop listening to a band or dismiss a restaurant because it became too popular, though I might take satisfaction in knowing about it before it caught on. But Hoka shoes have also found a following among an achier crowd.
Online reviews repeatedly cite appreciation for the sneaker, after ankle, knee or back surgery. Examples include “I’m overweight by 50 lbs so I need extra stability and padding” and “every single person at the physical therapy office I was going to recommended them and actually wears them (so) I decided to try them.”
To my chagrin, I realized that Hokas are the latest iteration of those puffy, comfortable “mall walker” shoes. My triathlete friend told me she had the same realization recently, at the dentist’s office. She wore a black pair. There was a stooped man in identical shoes, who walked very slowly, with difficulty.
A fellow triathlete? Or perhaps someone in need of comfy sneakers?
Kudos to anyone who engaged in their own sort of triathlon, pounding the pavement in rain or shine, metaphorically and literally, to get to the finish line.
To my chagrin, I realized that Hokas are the latest iteration of those puffy, comfortable “mall walker” shoes.