My home is located center point of the revered triumvirate of Portland’s athletic shoe fetish. Head north a few miles to visit Nike World Headquarters. Head east to amble by Adidas’s corporate offices and then turn south to end up at the Portland Running Club so you can compare both brands of shoes. No self-respecting runner or walker I know buys just any running shoe without a prerequisite mile jog. Observe:

Travis: I don’t know, Taylor, the shoe started to pinch my achilles around mile two. Do you have another model that allows for heel flexibility but doesn’t compromise arch support?

Salesman Taylor: I had a feeling that might happen given the shape of your foot. Let’s try the Nike Dominator 5000. I know it’s the most expensive shoe, but for all the marathons you do, it’s going to pay for itself.

Travis (while high-fiving Salesman Taylor): Let’s do it!

See what I mean? In this area, going to the local Payless Volume shoe store is like trying to sneak in to an adult entertainment store without being observed. I usually pretend that I’m going in to the Jamba Juice, furtively glance around, and then hustle in to the discount shoe store.

It’s not easy living in Nike town where the runners are outfitted in Columbia or North Face outer wear and everyone looks fantastic when jogging. There is absolutely no room for the baggy gray sweat pants with matching baggy gray hoodie on the running trails. A new mom pushing her infant in a racing stroller may get away with this look as she has just given birth, probably yesterday, but I’m sure she’ll be ready for the St. Patrick’s Day Half Marathon, probably in Ironman-like gear…little swim suit bottoms for shorts, a tight-fitting tank top and wrap-around sunglasses. Using the running trails in Portland is not for the fashion-challenged or those with any cellulite.

One time at a crosswalk on an extremely busy arterial, I pushed the ped button and waited for my cue. Do you think that six lanes of traffic would bother the runners? Heck no. A herd swarmed into the intersection and kept running across the street because to stop is to screw up their timed run. I quickly looked behind the pack to see if they were being chased by some sort of epic Jumanji animal mob. There was nothing there but the whooshing sound of extreme fitness passing me by.

And remember the icy arctic blast that hit us last week? Absolutely no problem for the serious runners! They happily ran on the plowed streets as the snow swirled about them and cars skidded to avoid hitting them. You see, the sidewalks and trails weren’t plowed and since you can’t keep a good runner down, then take to the streets they must, huzzah!

But at the end of the day, I am happy to report that I am a walker. I’ll walk five or six miles (a week, not a day) but I don’t jog or run. I am comfortable wearing my black Capri leggings and plain white tee. My shoes? They’re New Balance. I know, I know, but I really like the extra padding on the bottom and they were on sale for $29.99 at Joe’s Sporting Goods. I found them between the fishing poles and the ammunition for the hunting rifles.

And I don’t have the requisite pink cap through which an austere pony-tail is flowing. I don’t have the heart monitor strapped to my arm telling me if I’ve reached my target heart rate. My Ipod? It’s actually just an FM radio receiver set to the oldies.

I’m happy to let the herd pass me by…I’ll catch up to them eventually, or maybe I’ll just turn around head to the coffee shop. Being in my forties now, I want to live life to the fullest, not necessarily to the fittest.