Slowly stumbling: adventures in heels

Heels hobble me a bit. It pains me to admit that – I like to be girly and pretty and wish I was more comfortable in every aspect of it. I kept heels a sensible height – often an inch or less – for most of my life. It made more sense for walking over sprawling campuses, climbing stairs, almost jogging through hospitals to have conversations with fast-walking MDs. But any heels were worn on special days - presentations, important meetings and the like. Most of the time, it was jeans, t-shirt and sneakers, covered with a zippered sweatshirt in cold weather.

Those clothes were comfortable, normal. They allowed me to completely disregard anything outside my head. No discomfort, easy movement, complete focus on work. Nothing pinched or tugged too tight over the chest (is it just me who struggles with the stretchy shirts? That fit everywhere except over the bra? For crying out loud!). Just warm snuggly cotton and sturdy yet fashionable denim.

But now I dress up every day for work. Classy little suits, gorgeous scarves tucked inside. More comfortable pants matched with button-down shirts. I’ve even taken to wearing knee-high hosiery (tell me that’s not sexy) since it’s so much easier to launder. So my sneakers of the past – in their varied colors and diverse comfort levels – have been relegated to the rear of my closet. I keep one pair by the door next to my flip-flops. I use them when Chienne and I walk in the morning.

The comfy laced footwear have made way for sharp dress shoes – black, cream, navy and white pumps, strappy sandals of varied colors and styles for summer, loafers for those need-to-be-casual days. I don’t have pointy-toed shoes, or those decorated sweetly with bows or ribbons. I’m still at the predominantly functional stage of my shoe collection, and have tended strongly toward comfort.

But today, in my wine-colored pants and white shirt with the narrowest of stripes, I matched my black pumps (2 inch heel) with my lovely black bag I received for Christmas. I felt the need to atone for my sneakers of last week – people were on holiday for the most part, and I felt fine about reverting to the casual student of my grad school days. This was the first day back though – everyone present and appropriately dressed. So I brought out a Christmas outfit, did my make-up and hair, and slipped into black pumps.

My feet ached by the time I reached the elevator to head down in the parking structure. I shared the lift with someone in jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers. She probably thought I was weird for gazing at her feet in envy. Transferring my stare to my toes encased in shiny leather, I decided I did look more professional and pride in my appearance lasted for the whole ride down.

We got off the elevator and headed out to make our walks on campus. It wasn’t likely that we were headed to the same place – the medical complex alone consists of multiple buildings and mine is relatively small, comprised predominantly of research staff. But I followed along after her and decided we were probably trying to get to the same building after a little while.

I started out 2 steps behind her – I lost her around a corner about half a block from my destination. She was at least 75 yards ahead of me at last sighting. My journey was marked by looks down to make sure I didn’t step in a hole, twist my ankle and fall. To judge distances more carefully since I was more unstable on the balls of my feet and a relatively thin heel. My steps were shorter, more careful and slow. I just wasn’t going very fast, and the farther away she got, the more frustrated I grew with my speed.

Stupid black shoes. I thought, scowling now when I looked down to check for obstacles. I tried to hurry my stride, but found I took smaller steps to compensate for the lack of stability. I tried to think of other strategies – was I walking funny? Should your toe or heel hit first? There had to be some optimum stride length/speed combination that could allow me to keep pace with Comfy Shoes Lady. Carrie Bradshaw can run in heels – I’ve seen Sex and the City! At least walk faster!! What is wrong with me?!

By this time, my toes were hurting – crunched forward from my many attempts at gaining some momentum. My arches ached – unaccustomed to supporting my foot at this angle. And I was starting to get a little out of breath – from being upset or actual physical strain, I’m not sure.

It’s hurting at work. I feel slow. Painfully, miserably, excruciatingly slow. I’m looking around and realizing I’m still waiting for my main project to start. And I haven’t made progress in collaborating with people – brilliant scientists with amazing attitudes, eager to teach and work with me, and I’m blowing it. I am hard on myself all the time, but seriously? I have never felt like a more complete waste of space and money. And the nicer and more encouraging they are, the worse I feel – considering climbing under my desk and hiding, giving back some of the money, doing something to make myself feel more OK about the experience.

When I wrote for the high school paper, I did a rather profound column about shoes – how you had some that were comfortable, but they got too small and worn, so you had to get new ones. The new ones were good – pretty and functional, but they hurt a little. You expected to get some blisters and achy feet before you got used to the new experience. Ah, the talent of explaining the shift from junior high to high school.

The problem is, I can’t learn the lesson! The post-doc is pumps! They make my toes hurt, arches cramp and leave me gasping for air. And worse – I can’t get anywhere in them! I’m stuck thinking about how nice “Ph.D.” looks on my lab coat, how pretty the graduation program is that I have on my bulletin board, how stately all my texts look lined up next to the conference programs in which my presentations are listed proudly. It’s nice to look at, but if grad-student and post-doc were going to have a race, I’d be staring at my grad-student back, racing away in tennis shoes.

She knows who to ask when she has questions. How the computer network functions and what to do when she has problems. Her collaborative efforts are plentiful – people come to her because she's good at what she does. She mentors students. She does community service that is work-related. She serves on high-level committees, meets the Dean. Plays major roles in recruiting weekends.

I’m crippled by self-doubt in my lack of accomplishments here – meaningful or otherwise. My steps are too slow and too short. I’m not meeting enough people, not getting collaborative invitations or taking full advantage of the few I’ve received. They know. I keep telling myself. You suck and they figured it out, and why tie your project to someone who’s slow and stumbling?

So I’ll make a shoe analogy, unoriginal even within my own writings. Maybe I’m being sad still – stuck in a mood that’s oozing around my personal and professional life. I’m trying to bring myself out of it, and the iPod and Bloglines (my 2 crushes – how I love them!) are helping. But my feet hurt, though the shoes are pretty. And I’m talking about shoes literally and figuratively, already dreading wearing them tomorrow.