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New shoes march
to a high-tech beat

If Respectable People were to walk a mile in a Digital Slob's shoes, they might learn a thing or two. For one, the stroll would equal about half our monthly quota.

That's because most Slobs, while still technically bipeds, treat our computer desks like virtual Rascal Scooters on the Information Superhighway, though we're also waiting for the day the World Wide Web will come at us through flatscreen monitors hoisted above us horizontally in a tanning-bed-like configuration.

Still, shoes are an extension of ourselves, and Slobs are no exception. This is why when forced into the great outdoors, both our calves and our shoelaces tend to unravel in unison, about 50 yards out.

And while bending down to retie, you can feel the pregnant pause as we search for that deep sense memory that will rekindle the loop-and-swirl magic. We'll get it, eventually, unless circumstances have kept us completely isolated from caffeine up to that point.

It's hardly surprising, then, that most shoe news sprints by us like we're standing still.

But now high tech is merging footwear with software and hardware, and this should at least make Slobs sit up and take notice, if not actually stand up and put one foot in front of the other.

Nike recently refitted NikeID.com, a Web site allowing customers to pimp their cross-trainers, right down to the hue of their swoosh. Nike is cashing in on the customization trend, from iPod skins to one-of-a-kind paint jobs on cars (like my 1986 Nissan 200SX, which stood out from the crowd thanks to the roof's unique, melanoma-like sun-abuse splotch shaped just like the state of Wisconsin).

Unfortunately, being different "cool" as opposed to different "kill him" is often a fickle matter of social timing.

The summer before first grade, I went to Key West, Fla., and returned home to Louisiana the proud owner of sandals crafted to my exact specifications (I opted for two, designed for 10 toes each).

To my dismay, on the first day of school I was ostracized by a jury of my Keds-wearing peers for my "girlie shoes."

You don't have to be old enough to know what "sexuality" means to know when yours is being questioned. This is why if you go to my mom's attic right now, you'll find two tiny 30-year-old sandals in a box that still have the hint of only-worn-once new-shoe smell on them.

But high-tech customization isn't just giving shoes personality, it's also giving them PhDs in podiatry. The new computerized $250 Adidas-1 running shoe instantly adjusts heel cushioning on the fly. The aim is to minimize self-abuse caused by the herky-jerky spasms that many Respectable joggers try to pass off as a stride, even if it generates a small, snickering cult following during biannual 10K charity runs.

It's battery-operated microprocessor makes 5 million calculations a second. But if Slobs ever buy a running shoe with artificial intelligence, we'd prefer its CPU power a GPS system that will automatically know when to call us a cab, or at least secrete low levels of morphine if we're out of signal range.

But the Adidas-1 might be worth it, if only to make the neighborhood kid cruising on his retractable-wheel sneakers green with envy.

Just don't let him catch you walking around in sandals.