I am not an early bird. I do not rise up singing at dawn, nor am I motivated by a bounty of worms. I find it excruciatingly difficult to get out of bed in the morning. To spin an annoying cliché, I hit the ground limping.

Perhaps this correlates with my lackadaisical birthright as an afternoon child born at 4pm. Maybe the explanation rests in genetics. During my last annual physical, the results of my blood panel fell within the precursory range indicative of rheumatoid arthritis, and an MRI scan revealed dedicated patches of osteoarthritis in my right foot, left ankle, and outer right knee.

Big surprise. I was born with weak arches and bad foot alignment. Despite a lifetime procession of various orthopedic shoes and orthotic inserts, the strain of supporting my body weight on inwardly-rolling feet combined with a propensity for athleticism (mid-to-long distance running in my twenties and thirties, BodyCombat from 2013 to present) eventually led my ankle, knee, and toes to unify in mutiny.

Z-Coil was established in New Mexico in 1995 and built a dedicated following among people with foot, joint and back issues. With their visually distinctive style, the shoes gradually found their way into various media incarnations: Diane Sawyer velcroed up and happy-danced her way through a Good Morning America segment. Helena Bonham-Carter showed off a pair while casually traipsing about town. Most recently, runway models sported crystal-bedazzled versions at designer Christopher Kane's Fall 2018 show during London's Fashion Week.

Z-Coil shoes are standalone brilliant; celebrity sightings and crystal bedazzlements (while somewhat illuminating) are underwhelming by comparison. Since discovering them three years ago, my collection has grown to include multiple pairs that range in style from athletic, office-appropriate, and casual.

The stabilized footbeds support my arches and heels and never pinch or crowd my toes. This is especially beneficial feature to me because I fractured the second and third toes of my left foot several years ago. They healed at a slightly protrusive angle, and I experience pain and friction while wearing most shoes, including those marketed as "orthopedic" or "comfort-forward" by popular retail chains. The springing action of the coiled heels evenly distributes the weight of my gait - effectively absorbing the shock of even the most unyieldingly hard surfaces and relieving my knees from the pain of impact. In short, victory is mine.

There is, however, a caveat to the benefit of pain-free walking: I constantly turn heads in public and spur commentary. People stop me on the street, at the grocery store, in elevators, etc., to interrogate me about my unorthodox choice of footwear. While I occasionally elicit the sympathetic questions of gracious individuals wanting to share their own struggles with back and knee pain, I'm most often met by the aporetic staring of those who assume I've fallen victim to wannabe-hipster fashion. "Are those comfortable?" they challenge in judgment.

Whenever this happens I pause, inhale sharply, channel the reproof of my inner Violet Crawley and crisply respond, "They're designed for pain relief." Then I gloat in the knowledge that my orthopedic kicks have officially passed for wannabe-hipster fashion.

Victory is mine. Again.