Yesterday, I played my 900th day of golf in the past three years. Five days a week, I stand four to eight hours a day for work. Four to five days a week, I teach and coach a couple of hours per day, also standing. I also have two young children.
So a couple of months ago, I did what any self-respecting man in my situation would do.
I bought dad shoes.
From the time I was a teenager, I knew outward appearance and unique style was in my DNA. I remember wearing those purple striped shorts to my first day of middle school. Later on, I remember walking around New York City on vacation with my dad in a shirt and tie. I didn’t care if something was viewed as different. I knew what felt right to me.
As a banker for nearly 17 years, I was truly blessed with some great bosses that allowed me to be me and express myself. Though I might have toned it down for the occasional overly conservative client, I think most clients enjoyed having a banker that was a real human being, not just a corporate robot. I had beautiful suits made, collected ties from all over the world, and for one season even rocked a pair of pink suede Chelsea boots.
When I decided to make this massive life change some three and a half years ago, I unloaded a style bounty to family, friends, and Goodwill. Fifty plus pair of one off sneakers: gone. All but my most favorite suits and shirts: gone. Though I knew I may never wear them again, I kept the ties. They belong in an art gallery.
As the golf journey began, I started expressing myself in a similar yet totally different way. Enter custom designed golf shoes, exotic belts, unique yardage book covers, and a stylish array of shirts and caps. Amidst all of the personal changes, my love for self expression was not one of them. Again, I have been blessed to have a boss that lets me run wild.
About a year ago, I knew I needed some new shoes. Here I was, this almost forty year old man, living life on my feet like I was fifteen years old. I searched far and near, did some experimenting, but nothing really worked.
Then one day, I found the ugliest, most beautiful pair of shoes from Hoka. Either all white or all black. Built for doctors, nurses, and the service industry. Pricier than hell, but they looked super comfortable.
They were bona fide dad shoes, and I bought them, and I’m glad I did. Besides, I AM a dad, and are they really dad shoes if they are paired with a tri-colored python belt?
Have a great week.-Benj
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