BODY WATCH : Running After the Perfect Shoe : You know it’s time to buy new footwear when the soles are as thin as bologna. But what a task.

It’s been a few years now since I endured the ordeal of buying a new car, but the horror such a major purchase entails is still fresh in my mind. It was also something I figured I’d never have to go through again, at least until I wanted to buy a house. But then I had to get running shoes.

The similarities were uncanny. Do I go for something sporty or practical? What does Consumer Reports recommend as the best buy? How can I make the purchase with minimum contact with a pushy salesperson?

I’d bought running shoes a few times before, but the last purchase was four years ago. As I embarked on the buying process, I was shocked at how complicated it has all become.

The search actually began the same way my car search began. My old used car had sort of blown up on the freeway, and my mechanic told me it was time to get something new. My old running shoes had finally been worn down to the point where the soles had the depth and consistency of a piece of bologna. I’d developed an inflamed joint in my left foot as a result, and my doctor ordered me to find a new pair immediately.

I wasn’t quite sure how to begin the search. I think it’s a gender thing. Men just don’t carry the shoe-buying chromosome. For example, my old running shoes came to me four years ago when my mom asked me what I wanted as a Christmas gift. I told her running shoes and gave her my size. And that was it. The last time I actually bought some myself had probably been at least four years before that, so I was completely out of practice.

The shoe world had certainly changed since then. I remember being able to walk into a store, choosing between the blue pair and the white pair and I was on my way. These days, there is Air this and Max that. You can get cross-trainers for more than one type of exercise. (What’s next? Cross-socks for those days when you decide to run and do sit-ups?)

You can get shoes that pump, shoes filled with air and shoes that light up. There’s even a shoe with a squishy layer of gel inside, like a jelly doughnut for your feet. All the new running shoes are capable of just about everything except actually doing the running for you while you stay home and watch pro wrestling on TV.

With all these technological advances, naturally, comes increased cost. Since I needed a top-of-the-line model to protect my feet, the pairs I looked at weren’t priced much less than the down payment on my first car. Because the car cost so much, I never wanted to take it out of the garage out of fear that it would be stolen. Likewise, I worried about wearing new footwear in public.

Since I was going to have to part with a big chunk of cash, I just wanted to get the whole thing over with quickly. I checked out a couple of those discount stores, but they offered great deals on special items that turned out to be cut-rate prices on stuff that even the Salvation Army would pass on.

So, I went to a store for runners only.

When I explained to the guy who came over to help me that it had been four years since I’d gotten new running shoes, he gave me that what-kind-of-moron-are-you-exactly? look.

For anyone who runs five times a week the way I do, he told me, shoes tend to wear out once a year. At first, I thought this was a sucker pitch, a way of bilking novices like me. (Later I learned it’s true.)

Still, I had no choice. I needed shoes, the best in the house. The salesman lead me through 20 minutes of explanation: the necessity of proper arch support, the thickness of various heels and proper lacing technique.

I went for the coolest-looking pair, a set of Nikes with a nifty purple, black and gray color combination and a heel complete with a see-through bubble. OK, so the price was more than $100, but these were the runner’s equivalent of a new Corvette.

I experienced that brief buyer’s high you get from the purchase of any big-ticket item (though I’m thankful there is no such thing as a “new shoe smell”), and it would have faded except for an unforeseen complication. I went running in my new shoes, and darn if they weren’t amazing! No more wincing with every step. I wondered why I’d waited so long to buy them.

Even more than the comfort of having a new shoe was the real thrill of bringing a new, different, exciting addition into my life. Which reminds me. My car has started to look a little old lately. . . .