Shoes
For reasons I cannot begin to fathom I find the wear patterns on the soles of shoes fascinating. I do have other interests. I'm interested in minimal energy problems. I'm interested in potential theory. I'm interested in developing new ways to use technology to allow people to work together. But I'm really interested in how shoes wear out.
In the summer of 2003, the wife and I took a huge road trip. Before we went, I bought a pair of expensive Tevas. They were billed as "expedition sandals", and while I was a little skeptical that one would take sandals on an expedition, I figured the high price indicated durability. It didn't. We were in Zion and the sandals were less than four months old. There is a beautiful hike that goes along a river at the bottom of a canyon. The hike literally requires walking through knee deep water and I could think of no footwear that seemed more appropriate than my expedition sandals. Halfway through the return part of the hike the sandals fell apart. When I looked down I saw that the foot bed had come apart into layers and that the straps had pulled out. I was able to tie the straps together to make something approximating flip-flops. Still, I had to stop every hundred feet and re-tie the straps. The experience left me pissed off at Teva, and at sandals in general.
Some years later the wife saw a pair of Chacos on sale for $30. She suggested I get a pair since my feet don't do terribly well in the summer in normal shoes, and the walk to and from school made quick work of flip-flops. I hummed and hawed and decided that $30 wasn't too much money to waste if I had similar luck with them as I did with the Tevas. The Chacos have lasted years, I've probably walked hundreds of miles in them. When I wore through the rubber, I was able to send them back to Chaco to get re-soled. That was a sad time for me, not just because I was without sandals, but because the beautiful wear pattern I had developed over the years was taken from me and replaced with spiffy, new, unscuffed up soles. The sandals weren't really mine again until the rubber on the soles began to show signs of being abraded against concrete. Not that this explains my fascination with wear patterns on shoes.
The thing is that shoes take way way more abuse than any other article of clothing. When I'm walking, each sandal or shoe takes a compressing force of 160 pounds every second and a half. Both the force and frequency are higher for running shoes. The compression isn't constant. The shoes are loaded up with force, and then unloaded, loaded up with force and then unloaded. The soles are applied to hard, abrasive, surfaces like sidewalks. And you can do this to a good pair of shoes for years. Further, a good pair of shoes will make your feet feel comfortable while you're doing this. To get a sense of what shoes do for you, try walking a quarter mile in bare feet on a sidewalk or street. A good pair of shoes solve a technically challenging problem. Put another way, if I had to, I could make pants and a shirt, they may not look nice, but wearing them wouldn't cause injury. The problem of making a good pair of shoes or sandals is something I find fascinating, and in particular the wear patterns indicate how the shoe is breaking with use. It somehow tells you exactly where the problem lies.
I just needed to get that off my chest.
In the summer of 2003, the wife and I took a huge road trip. Before we went, I bought a pair of expensive Tevas. They were billed as "expedition sandals", and while I was a little skeptical that one would take sandals on an expedition, I figured the high price indicated durability. It didn't. We were in Zion and the sandals were less than four months old. There is a beautiful hike that goes along a river at the bottom of a canyon. The hike literally requires walking through knee deep water and I could think of no footwear that seemed more appropriate than my expedition sandals. Halfway through the return part of the hike the sandals fell apart. When I looked down I saw that the foot bed had come apart into layers and that the straps had pulled out. I was able to tie the straps together to make something approximating flip-flops. Still, I had to stop every hundred feet and re-tie the straps. The experience left me pissed off at Teva, and at sandals in general.
Some years later the wife saw a pair of Chacos on sale for $30. She suggested I get a pair since my feet don't do terribly well in the summer in normal shoes, and the walk to and from school made quick work of flip-flops. I hummed and hawed and decided that $30 wasn't too much money to waste if I had similar luck with them as I did with the Tevas. The Chacos have lasted years, I've probably walked hundreds of miles in them. When I wore through the rubber, I was able to send them back to Chaco to get re-soled. That was a sad time for me, not just because I was without sandals, but because the beautiful wear pattern I had developed over the years was taken from me and replaced with spiffy, new, unscuffed up soles. The sandals weren't really mine again until the rubber on the soles began to show signs of being abraded against concrete. Not that this explains my fascination with wear patterns on shoes.
The thing is that shoes take way way more abuse than any other article of clothing. When I'm walking, each sandal or shoe takes a compressing force of 160 pounds every second and a half. Both the force and frequency are higher for running shoes. The compression isn't constant. The shoes are loaded up with force, and then unloaded, loaded up with force and then unloaded. The soles are applied to hard, abrasive, surfaces like sidewalks. And you can do this to a good pair of shoes for years. Further, a good pair of shoes will make your feet feel comfortable while you're doing this. To get a sense of what shoes do for you, try walking a quarter mile in bare feet on a sidewalk or street. A good pair of shoes solve a technically challenging problem. Put another way, if I had to, I could make pants and a shirt, they may not look nice, but wearing them wouldn't cause injury. The problem of making a good pair of shoes or sandals is something I find fascinating, and in particular the wear patterns indicate how the shoe is breaking with use. It somehow tells you exactly where the problem lies.
I just needed to get that off my chest.
posted by f. chance at
2:51 PM
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