My running shoes smell of wee
I got them about two months ago, at the start of my campaign to get back into my kilt. They're made by a firm called Saucony and are very comfortable - I've covered a good few miles in them now, without any of the blisters my old shoes were giving me. Expensive, yes, but I don't really regret the cost. There's no point ruining your feet with cheap shoes, especially when you're pounding away at the uneven surfaces I have to run on round here.
But they don't half ming.
I usually leave my running shoes, and my mountain bike boots for that matter, in the little lobby at the bottom of the stairs. This used to be separated from the hall by a lovely frosted glass screen and ill-fitting door, but I ripped them out during the redecorating of this house when we first moved in seven years ago. For weeks I thought something had died behind the old desk that's taking up most of the available hall space. Then I thought it might have been poor old Chiswick, letting go on the rug we put down to make it easier for Mortimer to walk over the polished fake wood floor. But the desk has been moved and cleaned around, the rug washed, and still the hallway is filled with a dull odour of piss.
Oddly enough, it's not the insides of the shoes that smell. Not the product of my sweaty feet this unpleasant stench. The shoes are really too new for that - it takes me many months to brew up a good one, and my mountain bike boots are virtually odour free even though I've been wearing them for years.
No, it's the shoes themselves, something in the materials used to make them. Born, like so many of our consumer goods these days, in a sweatshop in some unpronounceable province of China, I suspect this is the result of some peasant worker's revenge, the contamination of an entire batch of running shoes with the distilled aroma of oriental micturition.
phew, what a hummer!
But they don't half ming.
I usually leave my running shoes, and my mountain bike boots for that matter, in the little lobby at the bottom of the stairs. This used to be separated from the hall by a lovely frosted glass screen and ill-fitting door, but I ripped them out during the redecorating of this house when we first moved in seven years ago. For weeks I thought something had died behind the old desk that's taking up most of the available hall space. Then I thought it might have been poor old Chiswick, letting go on the rug we put down to make it easier for Mortimer to walk over the polished fake wood floor. But the desk has been moved and cleaned around, the rug washed, and still the hallway is filled with a dull odour of piss.
Oddly enough, it's not the insides of the shoes that smell. Not the product of my sweaty feet this unpleasant stench. The shoes are really too new for that - it takes me many months to brew up a good one, and my mountain bike boots are virtually odour free even though I've been wearing them for years.
No, it's the shoes themselves, something in the materials used to make them. Born, like so many of our consumer goods these days, in a sweatshop in some unpronounceable province of China, I suspect this is the result of some peasant worker's revenge, the contamination of an entire batch of running shoes with the distilled aroma of oriental micturition.
phew, what a hummer!
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